Captain’s Log: Stardate 10547.7
With a new diagram in place for running sheets and detailed crew assignments in effect, we were ready. Ready for racing. Ready for Adventure.

Or so we thought.

First of all, Ensign Sid apparently misread his listed foredeck duties and thought they said “Stay home because it had rained two hours earlier and there may be a slight possibility that you could get a little wet and if you do, you could contract some rare supervirus that could put the CDC on high alert.” Ensign, even 20th Century doctors knew that you can’t get sick from being wet or cold. You can only get sick from germs.

When “The Sopranos” star Vincent Pastore was moving on to City Island, I heard stories that Big Pussy was coming. I thought they were talking about the same thing.

But, on to the race: With winds averaging less than 10 (and clear skies,) the race committee set a course, started the sequence and apparently did a time shift. Somehow, somewhere, a minute was lost. As we and Chaika headed towards the pin and a perfect start with a minute to go, we heard over the radio “All clear.”

“What the -- !!!?? We have a minute to go!” No response.

No time to discuss. We hardened up and went for it – as did the rest of the fleet. Ensigns Phil and Ryan, after a few light-air tacks, were starting to get into the groove with the genoa tacking. Some (very) bad tactical calls had turned what started as a great windward leg to a last-place rounding.

Our chute sets went very well as did the jibe. On the second windward leg and on the last downwind leg, we were really getting the hang of things and catching up to the fleet. We know what we need: A little more practice and a little more experience. We can do this. We will do this.