Captain's Log: Stardate 11241.3
It takes nine people to run a starship. One or two more would be nice, but nine is clearly the minimum.

How do I know? Because last night we had eight.

And last night, thanks to the last-minute cancellation of Commander Jory because of something going on at work (Jory -- see log entry about Lt. Kurt a few weeks ago,) I was, simultaneously during a jibe, easing the lazy guy with one hand, bringing in the new guy with the other hand and turning the boat with my....

Shit. I'm out of hands.

I used my knee. That's right, my knee. Spoke after spoke after spoke. Ouch!

And it wasn't just me pulling double duty. The entire bridge team was learning new jobs and performing their existing duties. Especially impressive were Crewman Ceaser, Lt. Kurt and Chief Operations Officer Lt. Ellen, who got around so quickly it reminded me of that classic Trek episode where Kirk was moving 100 times faster than everyone else.

Commander Richard went from main trim to spinnaker trim. Lt. Kurt went from genoa trim to main trim to spinnaker grinding. Crewman Ceaser went from genoa trim to pit to grinding. A lot of grinding. His right arm hasn't seen this much action since he was single.

Despite all of the slowness picking up and executing the new positions, our major downfall last night was wind strength and bad decisions. Right side, left side, tack, jibe, follow, flyer -- it just didn't matter. Each time was the wrong time.

Didn't matter though -- it was a beautiful night and even though I truly love my career, a bad day on the water will always trump a good day in the office.

We got back to our standard orbit (mooring,) feasted on two-week-old potato chips, boxed wine, water and beer (nothing but the best for my crew! -- Clearly I need to do some provisioning for the summer) and compared the newly-employed (hooray!) Zoraida's exes: The Denebian Slime Devil and The Lameoid. Dave seemed to prefer the Lameoid, based solely on the race where he brought us pizza and beer.

Ensign Emily had to leave early because she wanted to, and I quote, "varnish the tiller", which we all assumed meant good news for her boyfriend Frank. But, when it became clear that she was going to do it alone, we were at a loss. It wasn't until later when we realized that her boat, Elixir, has a tiller that needed some woodwork.

Let's plan on bringing some food out for post-race dining next week as we celebrate my last few days of being 45. Upper 40's, here I come.

Captain's Log: Stardate 11239.3
With our first race of the season behind us and all of the associated rustiness that goes along with it, the crew of the Enterprise came aboard fully refreshed and ready to race in the 5-10 breeze around Eastchester Bay. Now, granted, the conditions were not favorable to our heavy starship, but we were going to make the best of it and sail as fast as we could through the final frontier.

As we figured, Crewman Eric was a no show, and we wish him the best of luck with his soccer career. Returning for the first time of the season was Lt. "Don't Call Me Cookie" Zoraida and Commander Richard, celebrating the end of excruciating back pain by falling on to the deck.

In the spirit of Lt. Worf wearing his Klingon sash over his uniform in every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Lt. Commander Jory decided to wear his own personal touch, in hopes that it would fall under regulation wear -- a sweatband around his head.

My father did refer to him as Rambo at one point, which did cue Lt. Ellen to impersonate Sly Stallone's "They drew first blood", but, unlike Rambo, Jory's headband was white, so it looked a little more like Olivia Newton John in Let's Get Physical:



Or as I like to call her: Olivia Neutron Bomb.

I guess it's OK, but if he comes out next week in a blue and white leotard with leg warmers, it may be time to have a little talk.

We had a good position at the start, but, due to the low wind speed and surrounding boats, we had trouble getting up to speed. We followed a few others and tacked away from the fleet, going right, and accelerated to Warp 5.

We rounded the first mark second to last, but had a great spinnaker set and passed a boat or two downwind. We noticed a wind shift on that leg and decided, despite the current, we were going to go left on the way back upwind.

Doubt filled the bridge as we saw that we were the only boat to go left, but once we realized we passed another five boats, we were all pretty happy.

Note to the politicians out there: This is one of those very few times where going left works. :)

Another great spinnaker set and we finished in third position, ahead of several including Thin Man! Now, I know, ratings and all, we should always be ahead of Thin Man, but that's a great light-air boat and Todd and his crew are a great team. And yes, they corrected over us. But nevertheless, it was sooooo sweet to pass and beat them over the line.

We did very well - and all aboard should be proud. There was a few incidents on the bridge, however, and I won't name names (perhaps a first for me on this log, but OK, I'm growing) but there needs to be a higher level of respect and care for those around us. There was also a comment or two about how we race, number of people where, and so on -- After six years of sailing the Enterprise-B, we're getting a good handle on what works and what doesn't, and while I'm always open to suggestions, in the end, it's my ship and my rules.

Anyone uncomfortable with that, please let me know. I'd honestly hate to see anyone leave, but will be a gentleman about it and recommend you to another ship in Starfleet or another race's armada.

Captain's Log: Stardate 11237.4
At roughly 1400 Hours yesterday, we received a subspace message (email) from Lt. Kurt that he was having some problem work-wise that absolutely needed to be fixed by the morning. And, unless he figured it out, he may not make it to the Enterprise's first race of the season.

And yet, at 1830 Hours, he was on board the ship reporting for duty -- the work problem still unresolved and his career in serious jeopardy.

Take note, everyone. THIS is the exact type of work ethic we need on board in order to have a great season. A few more weeks like this, Kurt can one day return home to his wife and three children proudly saying there wouldn't be any mortgage money, food on the table, or educational savings beyond a semester or two at the Apex Institute of Car Maintenance (free set of tools,) but he was given a promotion and commendation in Starfleet.

Now, Kurt did report to everyone this morning that the problem is solved and he gets to keep his job, but his taking the risk shall forever be noted in this log. And as someone once said, "Risk is our business."

It took us some time to get the Enterprise ready for the race, setting the sails, training people in their positions, etc. And, with five less minutes in our starting sequence, I had some difficulty getting us to where I wanted to be for the start.

It was a long course, and ultimately we did everything right, but we did it all slow. The tacks were slow, the spinnaker sets were slow, the jibes slow and so on. I have asked that each member of the team add some WD-40 to their diet because we've all gotten a bit rusty.

On board for their first race was Crewmen Ceaser and Eric, both a little more than amazed at how much goes on to get a starship moving. Both did well, but, unfortunately, it looks like Eric's soccer schedule will keep him from coming back, at least on a regular basis.

Soccer over racing? Really? Isn't that like choosing needlepoint over football?

Special thanks to Ensign Emily who worked the both sides of the pit like she jumped forward in time from the last race of last year.

Missing last night was Lt. Zoraida (job hunting), Crewman Nicole (kid watching -- she starts May 30) and Commander Richard, who threw his back out because, and I quote, he "probably slept on it wrong." A manly man. Hey Dad, if Kurt can put his career and family's welfare on the line, you could at least suck it up and trim a sail one night a week.

Yes, this Kurt thing will go on for a while -- the bar has been set.

Captain's Log: Stardate 11236.3
I am proud to report that the Starship Enterprise was launched out of spacedock yesterday to assume standard orbit around City Island, NY -- thanks to the help of Captain Dave, Lt. Kurt and Lt. Ellen.

The launch sequence has always been a bit of a stressful time for me, especially during those first moments when the Enterprise is transferred from jackstands onto the "creeper", then rolled over to the slings, then rolled to the launch point and finally lowered into the water. My usual warning to the yard master of "you drop it, you buy it" doesn't do anything to relieve the anxiety.



One of the most amazing parts of the day was as the Enterprise was headed towards the water:



I'm still not sure why Jerry Goldsmith and the London Symphony Orchestra were hanging around the MYBC boat yard, but I didn't bother to ask.

The rest of the launch went smoothly:



In no time we had the impulse engines fired up and were on our way to standard orbit. Lt. Ellen was given the job of shooting video of our slow cruise out to the mooring, but she was, for some reason, distracted:



The sails are now all on board and the Enterprise is ready to continue her missions in the Final Frontier. First race is Wednesday. The order is given: Warp Speed!

Chief Science Officer's Log: Stardate 11235.9
Lt. Kurt vonRoeschlaub recording
With the captain away on shore leave for some sort of Earth ritual called "Honeymoon," it was up to First Officer Captain Dave, Ensign Emily and myself to represent the ship on the committee boat for the first race. This marks the second year in a row we have done this, which suggests the captain is actively avoiding this duty. This time he chose to get married rather than record racing times.

Eben, EBYRA's PRO, had already arrived first, and docked the committee boat at the club before I arrived. Dave and Emily arrived and we left on a simple preliminary mission: find the Starship Enterprise mooring and make sure it still exists. Realizing that I only had a general idea of the location, I asked Captain Dave if he knew what the mooring number was. "It's the one next to Tolo," he said. Great. Too bad Tolo was still on land.

The search pattern seemed to include everywhere that the mooring was not, and eventually (and wisely) Eben gave up and took the boat to the starting line. The wind was just enough to start the race, so a short course was set and the starting sequence ran smoothly. Soon after the last division passed, a 90 degree windshift turned the race into a broad reach. Fortunately, everyone had tacked by the time that happened, so we let it go. By the end of the race it was practically a second upwind leg anyway.

While the fog settled in and we waited for the returning ships, dinners were cracked open. I had been more than a little rushed out of the house, and just tossed some things in a grocery bag. As a result, my dinner consisted of a can of vanilla coke, a can of peaches, and an entire package of rice cakes (lightly salted). I felt like I was back in college (Starfleet Academy) with that meal.

The race ended with the boats looming from the fog like boats, uh, looming from the fog. Sorry, but there aren't a lot of analogous metaphors here (Captain's Edit: Did Kurt already forget about Khan's USS Reliant hidden in the Mutara Nebula?). The nearly dead winds made the finish entirely unexciting, but it was more than made up for on the return trip as David and Eben fought over the steering. They seemed to have very different opinions about what defines "too close" to a moored boat. With the linked wheels of the fly bridge and cabin being out of hearing range of each other, their main mode of sharing ideas involved yanking firmly, a method of communication that tends to favor the guy who grew up on a farm.

All in all an uneventful start to the racing year, the preferable result when doing race committee, upset only by the failure of the secondary mission.