Captain's Log: Stardate 10266.1
With the Labor Day weekend approaching fast, the crew of the Enterprise stepped aboard last night for the first of the final three Wednesday Night Races this season. As we approached by shuttlecraft, Lt. Ellen checked the WindAlert readings for the Kings Point weather buoy, just a couple miles away from our starting area.

North-Northeasterly. Could be chilly tonight.

Two. Gusts to Five. Could be sucky tonight.

Once aboard, we saw the limited breeze clock to Northeast, then East, then East-Southeast. Now, I didn't do very well in calculus or statistics in college (By the way, I majored in Communications, not Astrodynamics and Temporal Sciences as you may have thought), but I'm pretty sure I saw a pattern there.

Once we reached the starting area, seeing as we haven't really raced in almost a month, I felt it was a good time to reacquaint the crew with the finer dynamics of yacht racing:

"Everyone," I said, "this thing we are on is the boat. The boat." I then paused to make sure everyone understood. "The white things up here are sails. Sails."

I think they were getting it. Now for the tough part: "We use these, the sails, to make this, the boat, go as fast as possible. Any questions?"

Lt. Kurt asked how long we were going to be out tonight. I reminded him of the previous instruction and that the answer partially depended on him.

Back to the race: The Race Commitee, led by PRO Eben and the team from Zoetrope, saw no wind direction trend, rushed to get us started, and sent us off on a course to the edge of Manhasset Bay. A quarter way up the first leg and the wind shifted, giving the fleet a parade reach course both ways in deadly light air.

Maybe we should have set the chute on the first leg, but I doubt it would have done much for our position overall.

There were three exciting moments, though. The first was a mark-rounding collision between Falcon and Excalibur, but unfortunately it was nothing close to the Thin Man / Chaika collision a few weeks earlier. The second was when Crewman Caeser, during a whopping 5-degree heel, started to slide off the leeward rail and almost became a tasty meal for the bluefish in Western Long Island Sound. His new nickname: Chum.

The final exciting moment was feeling the Enterprise accelerate to Warp 6.8 -- Unfortunately this was after the race was over and the engine went into gear.

Let's hope there's some real breeze for the final two races. Would be nice to the Enterprise in her glory again.

Captain's Log: Supplemental
Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time until somebody would send me something like this:

Any jokes about "Klingons" and "Uranus" would go here too, I guess.

Captain's Log: Stardate 11264.2
For years now, I've always wondered how one could merge the sports of yacht racing with NASCAR -- what it would be like to be on a sailboat while doing high-speed turns round and round in one direction for, say, 500 laps.

Well last night we found out.

It started with a few subspace messages from Lt. Kurt and Ensign Emily that, despite having several weeks off, they were not going to be able to join the Enterprise on our Wednesday night mission. Add to that the departure of Crewman Bruce back to Watercolour and our crew numbers were looking low for the night, but still doable.

And then I received word from Crewman Nicole that the George Washington Bridge was backed up and it was doubtful she'd make it in time, ignoring our suggestion to simply drive the car off the bridge and we'll pick her up in the water.

So now comes the discussions: With our small amount, do we try racing anyway or just go out for a "booze cruise" on Western Long Island Sound?

Word came in from Nicole that she was going to keep trying as we saw the committee boat head out to the starting area. A little bit later she said she was nine miles away.

Nine miles. That could be ten minutes. All right! The Enterprise was already prepared to race thanks to the rigging work of Foredeck Captain Dave and Commander Richard. We can do this. To cut time down further, we left the mooring to circle the dock, perhaps avoiding a long launch ride delay.

And we circled. And circled. And circled.

Another text message: Almost there.

And we circled. And circled. And circled.

A mile and a half away, the race committee ran the starting sequence. Another text message about changing clothes and be right there.

And we circled. And circled. And circled.

While our division was heading up the first leg of the course, the sun set and the wind got lighter. Another text message: Can't get through the gate.

Now, I don't know if we did 500 laps or not, but it felt like we did. And, we were beginning to think she was sitting at her desk in New Jersey or at home just messing with us. Still, Dave, mostly in hopes that she was bringing pizza, jumped off to greet her at the gate. And, with a long commute home, Jory and Zoraida also jumped ship.

We left Eastchester Bay and the boxed wine flowed faster than the water past the hull. And in the end, though a nice evening, we determined NASCAR and yacht racing don't really work together well.

Hopefully by next week we'll be back on the real race course. With only three more Wednesday night races to go, it would be nice to actually get some racing in.