Cowes Week: The world famous yachting regatta

I was thrilled to have been invited to be a part of the crew of a yacht competing myriad of racing events during Cowes Week, the famous annual regatta attended by the rich and famous of the yachting world.

But I had to get across the Solent to reach Cowes, so I asked my brother to crew for me on my eighteen-foot sailing dinghy. He agreed reluctantly, citing his need to study for his upcoming exams, but I persisted. We set off across the Solent, me full of excited anticipation, he trying not to appear to be enjoying sailing instead of studying. The short crossing was accomplished without mishap.

When we arrived at Cowes Harbor, we sailed to a buoy opposite the Royal Yacht Squadron, near the Island Sailing Club where I was to meet my yachting friend.

We were both acutely conscious of many eyes upon us, as the bars of both clubs were crowded with yachting folk, yarning away and gazing from the wide windows at any movement on the water.

We approached the mooring buoy, head into wind, and my brother leaned over the bow to catch the ring with a boat hook, when it happened—the unthinkable. In full view of all those accomplished yachtsmen, a sudden squall capsized our dinghy and sent us floundering into the water. I wished silently for the deep to swallow me up!

The following minutes seemed to stretch on forever as we busily righted the boat, lowered its wet sails, and baled out the water. All our frantic activity were observed with interest by the Cowes yachting elite, of course, which added to our clumsiness and somewhat colored my brother's language. To add insult to injury, his kit bag was on the submerged side of the boat, while mine remained high and dry on the center board casing.

We rowed ashore in the small boat that had been left for us on a mooring, and on terra firma once more, I spruced myself up into the "special" yachting outfit that miraculously had survived the calamity. My brother could only wring out his clothes and sit in the sun.

I went to look for my friend.

As I entered the bar of the Royal Yacht Club, the first face I recognized was that of Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinborough, with his sailing instructor, Uffa Fox. They both beamed at me and Prince Philip said: "For that un-seaman-like display, you should buy a round of drinks, but in gratitude for the entertainment you gave us Uffa will do the honors!"

The moral of this unforgettably embarrassing episode must be: If you are going to do something silly, don't do in front of an audience of experts.