ROYAL COWES.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 261, 3 November 1928, Page 1 (Supplement)

ROYAL COWES.

THE YACHTSMAN'S PARADISE

HOME OP THE R.Y.S.

CHARM OF "WHITE WINGS,

(By TANGAROA.)

Now that one gees the Auckland yachtsmen busy all along the waterfront, scraping spars, painting, and doing those hundred and one jobs the amateur revels m one's thoughts go back to a very different kind of yachting-the pastime of the fortune people who can own one of the beautiful craft that one sees by the score in that enchanted sheet of water, the Solent. Different, but still essentially the same, for there is a keen bond of sympathy between all yachting men, just as there is between "brothers of the angle" During the last English sprine I found myself at Southampton, and being rather keen on the pastime, it was naturally not long before I was on board one of the big paddle steamers that run from the Royal Pier down Southampton water to the Isle of Wight and Portsmouth. It is an interesting journey, anyhow, as one passes the wonderful Southampton docks, with such Atlantic monsters as the Majestic and Leviathan, both within an ace of 60,000 tons, the old Mauretania (still the greyhound of the world, in spite of her twenty years), but to the yachting men it is particularly felicitous in the spring when the yachts begin to come off the mud or out of the yards where they have been hibernating all the winter. Fitting out is a very different thing at Southampton and along the Waitemata waterfront. Goodness knows how many millions or pounds are spent every year on the yachts of England, but it must be a tremendous sum, and thousands of people are supported as a result of this fascinating stime.

Varied Craft. Down Southampton Water one passes dozens of craft—big, graceful schoonerbowed, white painted steam yachts and motor yachts; fall-masted racing yachts; the comfortable, high-wooded cruising yawl, a couple of singularly beautiful three-masted American yachts, painted black, and when I was there last, a particularly fine black schooner, flying the Royal flag of Spain, for King Alphonso, that versatile monarch, is a keen yachtsman. These are some of the craft one sees, but quaintest that I saw was a Dutch yacht, with lee boards and all, just such a bluff-bowed, roundsterned boat that one sees in Dutch pictures painted centuries back—the type has remained absolutely intact until to-day, and may be seen used by the Flushing fishermen any day of the .week. Off Cowes itself were several of the aristocrats of the racing world, including His Majesty's black-hulled Britannia, a veteran, but still one of the most pleasing to the eye, Sir Thomas Lipton's Shamrock, painted a rich emerald, which gives a nice touch of colour on the grey waters of the Solent. Perfectly sheltered, Cowes, which lies at the top end of the Isle of Wight, and facets the entrance to Southampton Water, is an ideal centre for yachting. There are really two Cowes, East and West, situated on either side of the mouth ot the river Medina, hut it is only West Cowes that concerns us at present. East Cowes is a busy place where yachts may be built and repaired, but it is West Cowes off which they anchor when in their holiday garb, and it is from West Cowes that the fortunate people that oVn these lovely a aft put ashore in their dinghies—or rather are put ashore by healthy bronzed sailormen wearing the name of 1 the yacht across their blue jerseys. I

B.Y.S. Clubhouse. West Cowes Is a delightful old-fash-ioned place, rambling from Egypt Point (famous in yacht racing, owing to the tide that runs past it) to the Medina mouth. Of a* picturesque waterfront, not esplanaded and tamed into absolute straight lines, nut a bit erratic like so many charming English things, the central point is undoubtedly the clubhouse of the Royal Yacht Squadron, the most exclusive body of its kind in the world. In fact it flies the white ensign of the Royal Navy, and that is a privilege not granted every day in the week. Like much of the rest of Cowes the clubhouse is old-fashioned, rather suggestive of the remains of a castle, plus • rather jaunty glassed-in verandah, or conservatory sort of forecourt, _ with gay red and white sunshades, which in Cowes Week in August, shelters so many extremely rich men, and so many charming ladies, bearing some of the highest names in the land. Interesting to yachtsmen is the fact that the flagpole in front of the clubhouse, from which flies the white ensign, was formerly the mast of the wonderful old Bloodhound, forty—of was it fifty years old—and winning races right up to the end. Another rather attractive feature is the miniature half-moon battery with twenty-two little brass cannon, used as signal guns. It almost makes one feel young again, to see how the boys gloat over this part of the elub's property. . Cowes Week is essentially an aristocratic gathering still, and Royalty comes down, in the quaint old Royal steam yacht Victoria and Albert, with a man-o'-war in attendance. Then Cowes with its fleets—one should say flocks—of steam yachts, racing yachts, cruisers, and the smaller fry, is a wonderful pictore.

Old-World Charm. Cowes church, Cowes hotels, tea-rooms and shops are all in keeping with the rather old-world tone of the waterfront--omitting, of course, the yachts and the spic and span yachting men and womenWindow boxes full of bright flowers, creepers on the wall, an unexpected bit of green turf, all strike the eye pleasingly, and suggest that here peoplecan spare the time to lounge a Httle. Even the shops along the narrow rambling main street are not too modern, and quite realise the English wish for unostentatious quality without gaudines*. One could not imagine a picture theatre s blatant front in the High Street Tea shops are, of course, thick enough, but as they are generally shops that appear to have been built not more recently than the time of the last George, they are quite in the picture. At the back of Cowes the ground rises, and is pleasantly wooded, white across the Medina one aeea the wooded heights that shut out Osborne. I know of no pleasanter spot to etaoU » than the waterfront of Cowes, with Its oldfashioned town on one hand, the pleasingly irregular short walk, lapped by the waters of the Solent, a cluster of beautiful yachts moored in the roads, with others sailing majesticalJ& bjr pillar* of fPBE-wiute lanvae, —