As one of Campus Recreation’s Second Saturday Series intramural events, students are given three hours to build a ship out of cardboard, a 60-yard roll of duct tape, scissors and a boxcutter in the “SS Regatta.”
The winning boat must make it across the 25-yard pool without any team member leaving the interior of the boat. If every boat sinks, the winner is determined by total length traveled prior to sinking.
The madness of the SS Regatta returned on Jan. 31, for an epic intramural battle with madness ensuing.
11:15 a.m. On a Saturday morning, three freshmen exited Colorado Coffee, fresh with expectation and excitement, in order to … build a boat. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect after viewing a whiteboard advertising the SS Regatta. But a vision of glory sailing into first place surrounded by the roaring cheers of the crowd and vanquished opponents in waterlogged boxes couldn’t help but come to my mind.
While our appearance in the 2026 SS Regatta didn’t turn out quite like this, it was still an unforgettable three hours.
11:30 a.m. 2016 music played from a speaker as the king of Second Saturdays, Nolan Diffley ‘27, made sure each team had their allotted 60 yard roll of duct tape, box cutter and unlimited sheets of cardboard. Of the sixteen teams, each class was well represented, with each team clad in a variety of dress. Teams varied between ‘just-rolled-out-of-bed’ to a singular shirtless sophomore to teams clad in sprightly dresses and tuxes.
Our team had no costume, but boy, did we have heart. SS Boaty McBoaty was a boat focused on one thing: durability. We were not going down without a fight. The space between Reid Arena all the way to the stairs of the fitness center were filled with strategizing groups. Heated discussion and hysterical laughter filled the halls as we sought to create a feat of engineering wonder that could take us across the 25 yards across Schlessman Pool.
12:00 p.m. A team debate ensued over the height of our vessel. How tall did the bow need to be to keep out water? How short was necessary for Molly’s arms to reach the water for maximum impact? Feverish calculations of cubic feet displaced. Would our boat float two inches deep, or two feet? Were other teams having this problem? We couldn’t tell, but that torpedo boat looked pretty sick. Gosh darn.
1:00 p.m. The pace picked up as the beginning signs of a fleet formed. We weren’t lacking an audience. Along with officials, lacrosse recruits and a lone grandpa walked past, one viewing in silence and the other bestowing advice and encouragement upon each team. Nothing was surprising about these three hours, because nothing about this event could be described as ordinary. Including the giant circular paddles duct taped to that girl’s arms.
2:00 p.m. After a boat check confirmed that no ulterior materials or overuse of duct tape took place, we headed into the room that held the fate of the race in its tiles. The teams squished next to each on one side of the pool. 25 yards was all we had to go. A man in an official-looking shirt begged for everyone to do their best to pick up the dregs after the race. The shirtless sophomore donned his bikini. It was almost time.
2:15 p.m. And just like that, we were in the water. It was the most exhilarating and anticlimactic three minutes one could imagine. Screams and cheers and chlorinated water flying about Schlessman, floating heads still moving forward, crowns and cowboy hats, collisions and lost paddles and a few moments later, clarity over the victorious winners. Not that I could tell you who it was, as there was no announcement. It seemed to be a group of juniors who looked like they’d been around the pool before, judging by their cheerings and subsequent return to the water with flips and hoorahs.
And that was that. I returned to my dorm not quite sure what had happened, in a stupefied fog of pouring heart and soul into a few cut up boxes that had become the brilliant SS Boaty McBoat. Ten out of ten, would regatta again.