Catalina Island Boys Camp, approximately age 14.
Catalina Island Boys Camp had a sailing “fraternity” — which sounds prestigious and is actually just a way to say you’d spent enough summers on the water to be trusted with a small craft alone. The final exam was a solo sail with an instructor riding along as a “monkey” — meaning his job was to cause things to fail. Dropped halyard. Released lines. Tiller overboard. You had to figure out each problem with what you had. The point was to simulate the things that actually happen at sea, where there’s no one to help you.
One exercise was “lost the drain plug.” He’d pull it out, and you had to find something to plug the hole. The deck was clear and shipshape. Nothing available.
I stuck my toe in, which worked. He disallowed it. “You can’t keep sailing that way!”
So I had to take off my bathing suit to plug the hole, and sail back naked.
At least I wasn’t close to shore.
I passed.