SIDEBAR: Winds, tents, and an array of festivities unrelated to rowing make Head of the Charles a distinct local event.

The wind was whipping through the white tents at the Head of the Charles Regatta’s Reunion Village this weekend, and somehow the footage of hearth flames displayed on the HD flatscreen in the concessions area didn’t seem to be making it any warmer.

Still, most of the young alums appeared to have arrived at roughly the same idea of what it would take to numb the cold.

“So—sorry—there will be beer in there, right?” one asked anxiously, before proffering his one-dollar entrance fee. Having received an appropriate response and the green bracelet signifying his eligibility to ascertain just how much beer there was, he turned to the rest of the line.

“We’re also going to watch the boats,” he added, before heading off toward the concessions.

But neither boats nor beer could fully allay the nagging effects of the wind, which—in addition to buffeting rowers—was interfering with recreation on the banks.

“It’s the wind,” insisted a graduate of Yale’s class of 2002 as he watched his orange ping-pong ball fall short of its target: a half-filled plastic cup, its side adorned with a logo and the words ‘Harpoon Brewery.’ “I’ve been to a few regattas before,” he related, undeterred, as he prepared for another shot. “But I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan.”

Even for those that weren’t using the race as an opportunity to tip a few back, there were plenty of opportunities for amusement. A trio of Kashi pavilions offered everything from free yoga passes to cooking demonstrations. Close by, in the shadow of the Turkey Hill truck, a larger-than-life model of a cow stood vigil beside an equally large tub of ice cream. And, for regatta attendees who happened to be watching their waistlines, there was John Sidecar, who hawked his wares—a lineup of shiny Harley Davidson motorcycles—while placidly consuming handfuls of popcorn.

“You ride? You ride? Come on aboard,” he offered. It was unclear whether the nautical allusion was intentional.

And in fact, it was doubtful that any of the marketers had tailored their pitches to the nature of the event. “I know more about throwing darts than about boat races,” said Eli Winderman, who shilled for Metro, the free daily newspaper, while offering a fistful of darts to customers wanting to try their hand.

Watching the races, one had to wonder whether perhaps Winderman’s ignorance on the subject of rowing wasn’t for the best. “You look at the sport...it’s the same thing over and over again,” said Oli Rosenbladt, the women’s coach at Deerfield Academy in Deerfield, Mass. “You have to be a bit of a nut to get into it.”

Seated beside him, Lou Kinder, a University of California rower who trained under Rosenbladt in high school, couldn’t disagree. And yet, when her coach gave the team a break from practice this past weekend specifically in case anyone wanted to attend the Regatta, she didn’t hesitate to make the coast-to-coast flight.

“All the people that I’ve ever rowed with are here this weekend,” she said. “All my favorite people are here in one place.”

Bob Sesko, whose daughter Andrea coxswained for Princeton at the Charles in 2001, had a similar perspective to offer.

“It’s almost like a little mini-reunion,” he said. “Crew teams and their parents are really tight because you spend a lot of the time on the banks talking to each other.”