Taking on Union Canal challenge

By Rosie Anderson
BBC Scotland

It's not the most auspicious send-off party.

At this time in the morning the only visitors to the Falkirk Wheel are a group of tired looking cows.

The journey got under way at The Falkirk Wheel

The sun can barely be bothered to rise on this damp morning in late October - maybe it can't be bothered to compete with the omnipresent blaze from the Grangemouth chemical works.

It's 36 miles to Edinburgh, and the Union Canal is not looking inviting.

Rowing is a noble but extreme form of transport.

Those of us who struggle to row 2k on a machine in an air-conditioned gym know the idea of getting into a narrow and murky canal and rowing for eight hours from Falkirk to Craiglockheart in Edinburgh is no mean feat.

Doing it when you can't see and have limited hearing is nothing short of superhuman.

Raising awareness

But that is exactly what Michael Anderson, 65, did on Wednesday.

"I wanted to raise some money, but also awareness," he said before the challenge.

He decided to raise funds for DeafBlind Scotland, a charity representing about 750 partially or profoundly deaf and blind members, which Michael is part of too.

"I moved to Larbert in 2001 and the Queen opened the Falkirk Wheel the year after. I thought - that's it, that's what I'll do. I'll row to Edinburgh".

Which isn't quite as crazy as it sounds.

Michael just came along to start rowing at first. I didn't know he was thinking about this David Plank

When John was at school in Glasgow, he was given the option of going down to Glasgow Green and learning to row. He became a keen oarsman.

Although he gave it up when he left school, and he has since lost his sight completely and much of his hearing, the basic skills were still there.

"If I was starting from scratch now, that would be a completely different thing," he conceded.

"But I told DeafBlind Scotland about it. They have a project called Into Touch, which helps their members join in with activities. They contacted Stirling Rowing Club, and they agreed to row with me."

They also provided Michael with a rowing machine at home to practise with.

Splashing oars

And that's how Michael, his rowing partner David Plank and their cox John Denovan found themselves in a two man sculling boat at the head of the Union Canal.

On a bridge outside Linlithgow two hours later, the sun suddenly breaks through.

The splash of Michael and David's oars breaks the calm of the water and they and their waterproofs and sports gear glide into view. John waves and indicates they're going to pull in.

It's like The Railway Children, but wetter and with more lycra. Rowing suddenly seems idyllic.

The crew climb out of the boat one by one. John first, who takes Michael's hand and tells him where to put his feet, and finally David.

Michael gradually lost his sight and hearing after leaving school

He and John are the captain and vice-captain of Stirling Rowing Club respectively.

They all look remarkably laid back for people who've been rowing for two hours.

But it's still hard to believe that they took the idea of rowing a marathon with a deafblind crewman quite as calmly as Michael makes out.

"To be honest," says David, "Michael just came along to start rowing at first. I didn't know he was thinking about this. He let this one creep up on us slowly."

"The captain wasn't particularly fazed by the idea though. I said 'Good cause, give it a go'."

Setting pace

"Michael's like any other club member," adds John, "He works hard, he pulls his weight. He's really trained for this."

"The main difference with me is that I have to judge the movement of my oar, rather than see it," says Michael.

"And for some reason I can pick up what David's saying better than John sometimes, but it's pretty easy to hear people out here - not much background noise."

"Michael sets the pace, so he sits in front of me. I follow what he's doing with his blades. If he changes, I change too. I tell him to change back though," David laughs.

Canals weren't built for rowing, so there have been plenty of other obstacles anyway.

When I was two my mother noticed that I didn't seem to be hearing properly Michael Anderson

The oars have to come in every now and again to pass through tunnels or go over aqueducts, there's weeds and wildlife to contend with. Sometimes the boat has to be towed.

But on a sunny autumn day like this the Union Canal is like a little vein of escapism running through the central belt.

In many ways the water's appeal is a feeling of freedom, not a sight or sound thing.

And much as this challenge is a public statement, it has private significance.

Usher's Syndrome

"I was born a 'normal' child," Michael said when he first explained his project in drier surroundings.

"When I was two my mother noticed that I didn't seem to be hearing properly. She took me to the doctor, and he diagnosed me with a hearing problem. But then, by age 13 I was starting to walk into doors.

"It turned out I had a hereditary condition that would make my sight get progressively worse. Still, it didn't become a real problem until recent years.

"I got a job in an agricultural research centre, married my late wife. It wasn't until I was 29 that doctors at the Western Infirmary told me I had Usher's Syndrome.

"Eventually I had to quit my job in 1977."

Deafblind people don't need to be shut indoors and left there Michael Anderson

The 20 years Michael spent without proper support for his condition were hard.

"Deafblindness profoundly affects communication. You get lonely very quickly." Michael felt increasingly isolated.

The most reliable way of communicating for people with dual sensory impairment is touch, but there's quite a taboo attached to that in our society.

Reaching out and touching someone is a bit too personal for most of us, but it is how deafblind people make sense of the world.

Just as Michael began to hatch his plan to row the canal, his wife became terminally ill, and recently died.

"Personally, I did this row to keep the depression at bay," Michael said. "But I also did it to show what deafblind people can do."

Back at the waterside, it's time to get back in the boat.

"If it's helped educate people, then good," concludes David.

"Deafblind people don't need to be shut indoors and left there," adds Michael.

"Often people think, 'My God, what have we got here?' I can understand that. Some of the Stirling Rowing Club members didn't know what to do with me when I first started, but they're fine now."

David and John certainly seem to have got over any awkwardness. After a few attempts to climb on board which flirt with capsizing, everyone is back on the water and sculling their way towards Edinburgh again.

It turns out that it is also Michael's wedding anniversary. The slightly defiant flick in his stroke seems a fitting way of marking it somehow.