Hard to synthesize my thoughts about today so quickly after it happened. Especially after one small pour of wine on an empty, dehydrated stomach. And without any editing. But here we go…

We left Mystic this morning at 5:15 a.m. in an effort to take advantage of as much fair current as possible seeing as we had a 79 nm passage ahead of us to Oyster Bay, NY. We should have known we were in for trying day as Melissa and I were snipping at each other before 5 a.m. and Melissa had a Cat 5 fall on deck, like a sniper took down a geriatric Zebra with a tranq dart. Boom! I was my usual sympathetic, empathetic self and quickly ran to her aid. Anyway…

We safely got off the dock in a 14 knot cross wind (amazing!) with some good planning, preparation and communication. We were rather chuffed by this and found this rather encouraging for the rest of our day. Once safely through Mystic/Noank and in to LIS we unfurled the main in a lovely 14 knot breeze off the starboard beam and quickly realized we’d be better off killing the engine and going full sail. After balancing the sails (full main, reefed headsail) we found ourselves doing 10 knots SOG and got so damn cocky we did a fucking Instagram Stories so we could flex for all to see.

Seems that upset Atlas. No idea why she got so angry, but she did. And, full disclosure, I don’t really feel comfortable calling Atlas a she. She’s too big, too ugly, too fucking rough to be a lady. But let’s move on. After 2+ hours of having a rip roaring sail with a VMG never dropping below 9.5 knots, Melissa comes back up on deck after dropping the kids off at the pool and informs me that there’s water coming through the hose. My look must have made her use more simple language as she then said “there’s a lot of water coming in to the boat.”

I went below and, sure enough, there was a lot of water coming in to the boat through a hull fitting. I tried to close the valve (it was already closed) and after that didn’t work I bashed in the emergency bung to stop the flow of water. Thankfully we had, finally, put bungs next to all through hulls before our departure. I bought them 4 seasons ago…

This, obviously, was no small matter. It was rather alarming. The next 30 minutes or so were spent discussing solutions. Hauling the boat out, where, when, what would need to be replaced, etc. The conversation was calm, conducted as I calmly brought up the ditch bag, passports, boat documents and ran a test of the EPIRB. Melissa put together more “must take” bags of treasured possessions as well. I even brought up Bo’s life jacket because I’m that kind of guy.

With the water ingress stopped and the bilge pump working overtime we got most of the water out. Then Atlas decided she wasn’t done with us. The bilge pump wouldn’t turn off unless I switched off power to it. Fairly easy solution. While putting together an email to our coaches Behan and Jamie seeking their counsel (they responded with a phone call about 10 minutes after I sent the email) I asked Melissa if she could grab me a jacket. She came back and informed me that most of my clothes were soaked with salt water. FML.

Melissa found the leak because, while dropping the kids at the pool, she noticed dirty water on the bathroom counter. Assuming the most likely scenario was more shit leaking from the new holding tank, she went looking for its source. She didn’t find it, but she did find the water coming in through the through hull valve. So, for those keeping count, 3 new leaks were discovered on today’s sail. All rather alarming. Nevertheless we pushed on for Osyter Bay because you only YOLO once.

As we pulled in to Oyster Bay, absolutely fried, I gave a friendly wave to the Nassau County Marine patrol and he promptly lit me up, turned on the siren and said over the loud speaker “switch and answer on 13!” Sigh. So, while negotiating a shallow area during low tide, I came to a stop AFTER getting in to deeper water. I took one look at the boat and put out our fenders. The request came for ALL vessel documentation. Cruising License, radio station license, radio operating license and all identification papers for each person aboard. This dude picked the wrong guy to ask for documents from!

I have all documents, laminated, in a folio (thanks Dad) and also gave him, for fun, our insurance, registration, proof of global medical insurance, all dog vaccination records, all prescriptions, a manifest of all prescriptions aboard, my US Coast Guard captains license, my mother fucking Ontario and Michigan drivers licenses, NEXUS cards, 8 passports and, well, you get the idea. Despite this, they thought they had hit the jackpot when they radioed me and asked where the other people on board were. This confused me and I said “it’s just my family, sir. Four souls aboard.”
He responded: You gave me 7 passports.
No, sir, I gave you 8. Check again.
……….…
………….
So you’re all dual citizens?
Yes, sir.

After 25 minutes we were back on our way.

Meanwhile, the kids, wearing footie pajamas, were THRILLED to have been pulled over. Oliver, god bless him, promptly went to his iPad and googled “Nassau County Police Boat Interior” as he wanted to know what it looked like inside. 😍 Bo, 11 hours since his last pee, panted harder. Just that kinda day I guess.

After parting ways and being told to “enjoy our visit” we rocked up to our free(!!!) mooring ball at Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club in Oyster Bay, NY. As we were communicating with the dock master over VHF Atlas decided one more kick to the nuts would be in order and the VHF radio promptly shit out. Good times.

So here I sit, the boat in absolute disorder, everything covered in salt, writing this blog post. There will be no fancy dinner ashore. There will be no good parenting, quality time with the kids, or late night snuggles with the wifey today. We have angered Atlas and we’re waving the white flag. Chicken nuggets are in the oven, Doritos have been opened. Dinner is served, bitch. Tomorrow we will transit to Hell Gate and the East River again where we’ll tie up in Jersey City for a week of boat repair, NYC play and a 2 day diesel engine course for Melissa. Living the dream.