The Egg

The fog hunkered down on the glassy, green water, obscuring the horizon. The damp morning breeze was sticky with salt. Clumps of slick yellow seaweed drifted by, headed for the rocky Maine shore.

Simon Morin, 18, perched at the bow of Sinbad, his family’s wooden sailboat, squinted through the haze looking out for other craft that might be in their path. Behind him, his aunt, grandmother, sister, and cousins organized tangles of line, trying to find a routine before the starting gun went off. Cousin Will Conover, 21, was at the stern, radio in hand, waiting for updates from race organizers who had called for a delay due to low visibility.

“Over there!” Simon shouted, spotting a faint outline of a mast. Another drifted into view. Simon’s aunt and Sinbad’s captain, Jen Conover, swung the boat around and headed for the others queueing for the launch of the 21st Eggemoggin Reach Regatta, technically a race but really more a gathering of devotees of a past era of sailing.

Text by Bethany Ao