Vesta Veterans International Eights Head of The River Race

The Vesta Veterans International Eights Head of the River Race is a rowing race held annually on the River Thames over the Championship Course. The direction in which the event is raced changes from year to year, dependent on the time of the tides: some years it is raced from Mortlake to Putney other years it will go the other way. It is open to veteran (also known as masters) eights, who race in categories determined by the average ages of the eight rowers. The race always takes place on the day following the Head of the River Race.

It is organised by Vesta Rowing Club.

Famous quotes containing the words veterans, eights, head, river and/or race:

    “[Veterans] feel disappointed, not about the 1914-1918 war but about this war. They liked that war, it was a nice war, a real war a regular war, a commenced war and an ended war. It was a war, and veterans like a war to be a war. They do.”
    —Gertrude Stein (1874–1946)

    “Time has an undertaking establishment on every block and drives his coffin nails faster than the steam riveters rivet or the stenographers type or the tickers tick out fours and eights and dollar signs and ciphers.”
    —John Dos Passos (1896–1970)

    “The mountainous region of the State of Maine stretches from near the White Mountains, northeasterly one hundred and sixty miles, to the head of the Aroostook River, and is about sixty miles wide. The wild or unsettled portion is far more extensive. So that some hours only of travel in this direction will carry the curious to the verge of a primitive forest, more interesting, perhaps, on all accounts, than they would reach by going a thousand miles westward.”
    —Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)

    “Cole Thornton: Just a minute, son.
    Mississippi: I am not your son. My name is Alan Bourdillon Traherne.
    Cole: Lord almighty.
    Mississippi: Yeah, well, that’s why most people call me Mississippi. I was born on the river in a flatboat.”
    —Leigh Brackett (1915–1978)

    “The whole race is a poet that writes down
    The eccentric propositions of its fate.”
    —Wallace Stevens (1879–1955)