TAG

SHIP'S LOG:

After the torrential downpour of Saturday afternoon(yes, NOAA seems to have gotten that right, though that made them 1 for 3), Sunday was not a good day for much of anything. The weather was comfortable except for the fact that there was no wind. And for some reason, it sucked the energy out of everyone. People sat on the club porch and just looked out at the water and sighed. Everyone seemed to be packing a mound of stuff but nobody had the energy to do anything with it. Had anyone  made a suggestion to do something, everyone probably would have gotten up to do it, but as it was no one even seemed to have the energy to make a suggestion. One saving grace is that the humidity went away for awhile but I have a sneaking suspicion that it won't be for long I'm afraid.

Now Monday, on the other hand, was a great day. It was cool(even) and had low humidity and great wind. A perfect day for sailing and that is what I did. If you wonder where I might have gone, well I went that-away for a couple of hours and then towards over-there for a couple of more, before head back "home" for the night. It was one of those glorious day when everything seemed to combine to make things perfect. Even playing "dodge'em" with the ferries on the way out didn't detract from the sail. I did have one almost dangerous encounter though.  I was on starboard tack out toward the Dumplings approaching a sailboat on a reciprocal course and of course, she was on port tack and there fore had to give way. The gentleman at the helm, a member of TYC as it turned out, held course thinking he could cross my bow cleanly. I kept checking and checking and checking and it was clear to me that he wasn't going to make it. He was about 15 feet away and I had just started to turn the wheel to duck under him. While I technically had "the right of way," I wasn't about to cream him to make a point. There is a little doggerel that goes,

"Here lies the body of John O'Day,
Who died defending his right of way,
He was right, dead right, as he sped along,
But he's just as dead as if he'd been wrong!"

In any event, every skipper has the legal obligation to avoid any crash no matter what the circumstances.  But  just as I began to move the wheel, the other skipper, either noticing that he wasn't going to make it or perhaps seeing me for the first time, put his helm down and pass beneath. And a good thing too, because though the boats were both close to the same size, I would have caught him with the bow and probably would have done enough damage to sink him. ABISHAG is, after all, an over-build, ocean-going craft of some 11 tons and catching square on the beam, she would have stove him in but good.  But, there was none of that and both he and I sailed on.

The Portuguese sub came out again to continue the "games" it is playing with the US Navy.  When it is by itself, it looks good sized but when you see it next to a 688, it looks rather small.  I wonder how the "games" of hide-and-seek are going and if they are keeping score. If I was commander of the Portuguese sub, I would submerge  just beyond the Race, where the bottom drops precipitously, from 60 feet to over 300 and more, stop and wait for the 688 to come charging by on the surface and 30 or 40 knots as is their want. They usually don't submerge until they are 20 or 30 miles of Montauk and on the surface they make plenty of  noise. They I would get up in their their wake and follow, staying in their baffles when they submerged. TAG!