We woke up to--you guessed it--more fog. Also, there was no wind. We took the opportunity to ready ourselves and Scoots for departure. No wind, no hurry.

We left at about 10 am, when a little wisp of wind ruffled the water in the fairway, presaging--we hoped--the beginning of the days' wind. Alas, it was not to be. The wind in the Sound was little to nonexistent, and we bobbed around for quite awhile, waiting for the forecast "NW winds, 10-15 knots," to show up. When the wind did materialize, it slid in, softly and shyly, from the south.

We put up the Code 0, along with the main, poled it out, moved it around, and Eric played many rounds of "tweak the sails," but still we ghosted along at 0-2 knots (yes, at times our boat speed was 0.0 knots). About the only benefit of all that smooth water was that it allowed us to more easily see the dorsal fins of porpoises, the fuzzy faces and webbed feet of sea otters, and the shiny snouts of spyhopping harbor seals.

When it became evident that we were going to arrive at Point Hudson later, rather than sooner, I phoned up the marina office and reserved a guest slip--Slip # 3, I was told. With that out of the way, we only had to beat the sunset to the marina.

We eventually turned on the engine to speed our progress a bit; in addition to the wispy wind, our speed was also impeded by the incoming tide. If we were going to make it to Point Hudson before dark, we had to start making some headway.

We rounded Marrowstone Point just after 7 pm. The sun was still up, and in fact it was making a shiny streak across the water, in the direction of the marina entrance, making it a little hard to see where we wanted to be going. We'd stayed at Point Hudson in April, so I was familiar with the layout of the entryway, and the guest slips. Slip #3 would be in a perfect position for me to round the bend in the entryway and allow Scoots to drift right into the slip. I noticed a couple coming to stand along the walkway on the entryway, to watch our approach.

Everything went smoothly, up until the time that Eric, who was stationed on the foredeck ready to handle the dock lines, said, "There's a boat in #3.

Uh oh.

"What about #5?" I asked.

"There's a boat there, too. The only open slip is #1."

Bigger uh oh.

Slip #1 was the first slip after the narrow entryway, requiring a really tight turn to enter it, even if you're planning to do it. Which I wasn't.

Scoots was continuing to drift into the marina; I needed to do something...immediately. I put Scoots into reverse and steered her back toward the outer entryway wall. I allowed her to drift back until I could almost shake the hands of the couple on the walkway, then I aimed Scoots' bow at Slip #1, put her into forward, and goosed the engine to swing her stern around and get her moving forward. Eric stayed on the foredeck as we approached the slip, pointing out obstacles as we neared them; I responded at the helm.

When Eric stepped off Scoots onto the dock, spring line in hand, put a loop around a dock cleat, and said, "We're here," we both breathed a sigh of relief. The woman on the boat in Slip #3 complimented us on our maneuvering. The couple on the walkway applauded. Scoots bobbed calmly in her berth.

I was reminded of some valuable lessons from this experience: 1. I drive Scoots better when I don't over think things, and better than I think I do. 2. ALWAYS have a Plan B. A Plan C wouldn't hurt, either. Even if you think you know exactly where you're going. 3. ALWAYS scope out the entire picture when you go somewhere, so you can quickly see what your options are for Plans A, B, and C.

All in all, this was a very good, very eventful, day.