Docking Disasters. . . We left Orient Point this morning and started the journey to Port Jefferson. After a few hours of fighting westerly winds and literally getting nowhere, We decided to motor across the sound and dock in Old Seabrook, CT. Although that was not the direction we needed to go, with strong winds and currents, it was our only choice.

After motoring around for a short while, we found a suitable dock. On our first pass, Peter was at the helm. I am NOT confident enough to try navigating a 45 ft. Sailboat up to a dock. SCAREY! Peter told Gabe to be ready to jump on the dock and to tie the boat off. Unfortunately, Gabe was not quick enough, so Peter RAN from the cockpit, jumped on the dock and yelled for Gabe to throw him the rope. Gabe threw the rope… and missed. All the while, the boat is slowly drifting away from the dock. So, there I find myself alone on the boat with Gabe and Noah and my husband is pacing on the dock! Oh my gosh, I have to swing this boat around and try to dock it myself. Just kill me now! Like an air traffic controller, Peter was directing me with hand signals. The boat slowly came up to the side of the dock, Gabe threw the rope and it missed. The boat was coming a little to close to the dock so Peter leaned over to push the boat away from the dock. He was REALLY leaning forward and reached back to grasp the rail of the aluminum ramp that was behind him. He realized to late that the ramp was portable and not attached to the dock. He had two choices, fall into the water with the ramp or try to jump on the boat that was AGAIN drifting away from the dock. In true ninja like fashion, he jumped, barely making it on. He was hanging from the rails by his arm pits and the darn aluminum ramp came crashing down on his back and fell into the water never to be seen again. Third time was a charm. The boat is docked, my nerves are shot and Peter’s armpits are sore. Going to have a glass of wine!