Captain’s Log: Stardate 10647.4
Instead of racing last night, we took the Enterprise into Manhasset Bay for some tuning and crew training. Tacks, Sets and Jibes, oh my.

It was all, for the most part, to try and get the crew to familiarize themselves with different positions on the Enterprise in anticipation for some upcoming vacation time (wholly unauthorized, but they’re going nonetheless.) Next week, Commander Dave will trade in his foredeck duty for a set of Mickey Mouse ears and a pool of sweat waiting in line for Space Mountain as he takes his kids to Disney in Orlando. Happiest place on earth, my ass. Not sure yet what we’ll do, but (and this is a warning to all other ships in the quadrant) I may give Richard the helm and handle the foredeck myself. Let’s just hope he doesn’t lose another contact lens.

Lt. Kurt, returning for just this night and clearly making a concentrated effort to try to remove my father’s head during jibes, will also be gone for at least the next two weeks for some sort of business trip to Amsterdam. It’s hard to imagine Spock in a land where marijuana and prostitution is legal and he may be coming back a changed man (assuming he comes back at all.)

We moved Ensign Jonathan to the line control center, setting up lines as well as handling the downhaul and topping lift and moved Yeoman Phaedra (who will also be gone for a bit sailing a C&C 39 from Maine to Annapolis – she’s cheating on us with another C&C) to the genoa release position.

On the way back, I gave the conn to Ensign Zoraida who took us on a rather unique wavy course home. Apparently she has a hard time distinguishing the Empire State Building from the town of Little Neck. Yet, she only yelled out ¡Ay dios mio! (Klingon for “I’m not comfortable with this”) only a few times when the Enterprise accelerated beyond Warp 7 and a close encounter with a barge. She did fine. I did notice afterwards that Zoraida has downgraded the snack delivery from fresh-baked pastries to store-bought Pepperidge Farm. At this rate, I figure we’ll be munching on stale no-name Oreo knock-offs packaged in 1972 by the time we reach Race 18.

Our impulse engines malfunctioned so we sailed back home. All in all, a great, great night.

Captain’s Log: Supplemental
I noticed on the Sailing Anarchy site some more comments aimed towards “Capt. Kirk” which I can only assume is me (although the Captain of the Enterprise-B was named John Harriman, but I digress.) There was some talk made by someone named “Espo” about my decision to cancel Saturday’s races of the City Island Cup because the breeze was steady 25 with gusts up to 30. Only three boats showed that day, one of which was “hiding” in the lee of City Island and Espo apparently thought it would be better to run the race anyway thereby ruining the series for those that didn’t show because of the high winds. Let’s add to the equation that in wind like that, gear gets broken and crew can get hurt. The last thing I need as a race organizer is to be a named defendant.

We ran four races on Sunday in 20-25 and it was a blast. I’d do it again the same way.

And for the record, Espo’s boat, Hustler, was the first to drop out – even before Saturday’s winds. Must have seen the forecast.

Of course, Espo is a great sailor and probably the best on Long Island Sound. I’m sure his opinion is sought after time and time again. He’s the one that turned me on to Quantum as a sailmaker and I wish he’d sail with us on Enterprise so we can learn from him. He’s made statements about how EBYRA is run and I’d be delighted to have him get on the board and show us all how to do it right.

But in the meantime, and take this however you see fit, Espo is the guy I pay to wipe my bottom.