Would This Be The Year?

"It's thirteen miles to the mark," the Rear Commodore stated.  "First warning at 8:55 AM; finish deadline at 5:00 PM.  Good luck to all."

The annual race is from New London, east down Fishers Island Sound, rounding the mid channel mark at Watch Hill, and back to finish in New London.  57 boats registered.  John's J-105 should be competitive.

"If we can just finish this year," John said.  Not an ambitious objective, but my friend faced an extra burden.

"You ignored my birthday for that stupid race," the note from his ex-wife said the first time he entered it.  "I'm leaving you with this curse: as you've broken my heart, your boat will always break during the race."

No one ever mentions the note, but the evidence is mounting.  A broken rudder, broken forestay, blown out sails, were some things that happened.

Sailors aren't necessarily superstitious, but after a while...

"Set the spinnaker," John ordered as we turned east into Fishers' Sound.  The colorful balloon went up easily.  A South Westerly wind setup a run to Watch Hill, and a tacking dual back.

On the return, the wind died off Mystic.  Not unusual during Summer on the Sound.  A late afternoon puff could be expected, and we'd finish in good time.  Might have been leading our class; certainly no worse then third.

And then...

With no wind, and not wanting to start the engine, we were at the whim of evil tidal currents.  Took us right into a lobster trap field.  Didn't just hook one, a second and a third too.

Several hours of diving and cutting lines later, we got under way to finish 15" past the deadline.

So a warning to all sailors, to have a chance at winning a race, stay single, or keep your wife happy.