At Flores, in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,
And a pinnace, like a flutter’d bird, came flying from far away;
“Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!”
Last month my cousin, also called Richard, lay in the Azores before sailing 2,000 km north east to Bénodet. He was crewing a 54 foot ketch skippered by a member of the Royal Yacht Squadron: Carango. (Sounds to me more like a Spanish dance than a yacht.) Actually it is French, built by Amel near La Rochelle.
On this day in 1815 at a tavern in St James’s the Yacht Club was founded, further cementing the link between boat and bottle. It is by no means the oldest yacht club in the world but can claim to be the most prestigious. It became the Royal Yacht Club in 1820 when George IV, already a member, became king. Then, in 1833, William IV changed its name to the Royal Yacht Squadron.
The RYS clubhouse is Cowes Castle on the Isle of Wight. Reminiscent of a grand Victorian country house, members are cosseted by thoughtful staff. A guest arriving on the ferry from Southampton is literally transported into a different world when he’s met by the Squadron launch and taken to the castle. I was fortunate to be that guest on my 60th birthday.
RYS members, like many London clubs, may be characterised as being rather elderly, decidedly rich and with a tendency to spend more time ashore than afloat. This is misleading. In particular the last impression is not true. Members can be seen racing dinghies in the Solent or taking part in the Admiral’s Cup and everything in between, including sailing from the Azores to Bénodet in relentless headwinds.
