Mystic River Mudhead Sailing Association

In the beginning there was wind and water in the Mystic River. And upon the water there came small vessels, driven by steely-eyed boys of summer with character under-developed. Like reeds of straw poking into the unknown, unaware of the future while focused on the present, determined to survive and, yea, eventually to thrive, in a strange and wonderful world that awaited the arrival of their manhood.And when two of them would get together with their small vessels and their floppy sails, there would be competition. And others joined and soon there was passion.And then there was mud. Mud that clung to the tops of the highest tips of the masts that poked from the decks of the small vessels into the wind. Fragile, yet flexible, oft bent to the will of the wind and lo, these masts dipped into the deepest depths of the river and upon their return to the sky there was the mud. And the mud did cling to those tips and then dripped upon the deck from the highest heights. And oft it would drip on the heads of the steely-eyed boys of summer, who gazed upon the stains of the mud and saw that it was good.And the racing continued. And oft followed by revelry amidst the herbs and elixirs of the day and the passions grew more intense. And the steely-eyed boys of summer saw that it was good.