How has it only been a week? What a whirlwind. Our first week out of the boatyard, and out of The Bay, was a doozey. Charles and I were in desperate need of some downtime before the upcoming weekend when we would be hosting a trio of teens and tweens and we very much needed things to be less exciting than they had been.

In addition to all of the newsworthy moments discussed in previous posts, the regular day-to-day moments were happening as well. We were converting from a stationary home to a constantly moving one and everything that wasn’t stowed safely was letting us know. In some instances we noticed too late but, on the bright side, it does make it easier getting rid of things once they have broken.

Charles continued working on and identifying the issue with the outboard motor and finishing up some of the unfinished boatyard projects. We also continued going through cupboards and sorting crates, moving as much off of the boat as possible, making donation trips to shore almost daily. In addition, we were provisioning, doing laundry, daily cooking and cleaning, all while wondering how much time we had before our new mountain of debt began to crush us.

Life was too hectic, we needed a break from the constant rocking, and we needed to slow our frantic brains and get them to stop spinning. We decided a calming day of peaceful relaxation was in order and headed off to Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park to walk among giants and marvel at the beauty of this small pocket of the planet. With the exception of forgetting the car keys at the boat in the morning and Charles having to dinghy all the way back, it was a lovely day that had the desired effect. We were rejuvenated and ready to take on the troublesome trio who call themselves ‘The Bad Ideas Squad’.

The day before the party we moved the boat into position on the Boardwalk side of the pier and headed into town to get all of the provisions for the upcoming festivities. On the menu were the items requested by the birthday girl, Greek Salad with pita bread, KD & weenies with corn (that’s Kraft Dinner or Mac & Cheese for the non-Canadians), and Tiramisu. The savory dishes were no-brainers, I had made them countless times, but the Tiramisu was a new one so I wanted to make it the day before, just in case. This would be my first attempt and I wanted to be sure we had time to rush to land for a replacement if needed.

The dinghy motor continued to act up and after our rescue and tow we began carrying our electric motor as a backup. Being anchored on the Boardwalk side of the wharf meant that at least we were closer to the harbor so the dinghy ride was much shorter however, the morning of the party, Charles was testing the dinghy motors and neither were functioning without issue. The gas motor was being its usual finicky self but the electric motor, our tried-and-true little-work-horse that never lets us down, was now displaying an error message and refusing to start.

As the self-appointed Admiral, I made the adventure-less decision to have the Captain temporarily move Magick Express to the visitor dock at the harbor in order to meet our guests. I wasn’t willing to risk another drifting dinghy adventure, and I especially didn’t want to risk it becoming the birthday’s surprise main event.

We had a quick early lunch at the guest dock and then I drove the partygoers to within blocks of the Boardwalk entrance. Yes, I say ‘within blocks’, because if you have ever driven near the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk while it was open, then you know the futility of trying a pick-up or drop-off at or near the entrance. To even attempt it would be sheer lunacy.

So, a few blocks from the entrance, I watched them disappearing into the streaming horde, arms linked, excitement palpable. They were free. No adults, no watchful eyes, no projected fears, just adventure and possibility awaited. It was their time to claim their own experiences and forge their own memories of the timeless, languid, unsupervised freedom of summer moments spent with friends at beaches, or lakes, or parks, wherever youth yearning for independence congregate. There is no feeling quite like it, your people at your side, living in the moment, the future safely distant and unknown, the possibilities endless, together anything can happen, you are invincible, and you trust that your day is going to be epic.

While I was feeding and delivering the restless gaggle, Charles was rebuilding the carburetor on the Mercury outboard, finally getting our stalling issue dealt with. Our motor, our primary link to land was finally behaving. Once I had returned to the boat, we headed Magick Express back out to the anchorage in front of the Boardwalk where we dropped our hook just outside of the swimming boundary, climbed into our hammocks and relaxed, until the call came that a pick up was requested.

After explaining why he couldn’t just motor through the swimming area to the beach and get them, Charles told the three to walk to the wharf where he met and led them to the dinghy dock (the raucous party dinghy dock!), which was starting to fill with raucous party sealions ready for the evening’s festivities. Thankfully our dinghy remained safely tied to the dock and unmolested while Charles made the short walk down the wharf and back, since, based on what we had heard, it is unlikely it would have remained so for much longer.

I could hear the twitter of excited, fast-talking voices over the sound of the now-working outboard motor as Charles returned, having picked up our passengers. All three were jubilant, rapidly firing off snippets of disjointed and random information that gradually took shape as more and more bits of excited details were lobbed and volleyed, each adding their own memory, combining and shifting the story as it took shape. “That was the best, so much fun, long lineups, so we got food, did a few rides, that one ride was awesome, but not as fun as the dinghy ride, no the dinghy ride was my favourite, and the sealions, they were cool, I was so nervous down on the dock with them,… you were?, I got photos, you know they bite right?, oh, but the dinghy ride was amazing, can we do that again? I want to go swimming, can we go swimming?”

So, after a rousing and embarrassing rendition of Happy Birthday to Jo Jo and everyone had had their fill of birthday tiramisu, those crazy enough to brave the frigid waters of Monterey Bay, went for a swim. It was a fairly brief swim, but a swim nonetheless. As the afternoon light began to fade and shadows started lengthening towards evening, it was time to begin the journey north to return the revelers to their Bay Area homes.

As luck would have it, the first leg of the return journey was a long and exhilarating dinghy zoom to the harbour that was declared ‘the best ride of the day’, followed by a two hour drive filled with incessant, adrenaline and sugar-fueled chatter, topped off by the blissful two hours of silence on the return drive. At least that is how Charles described it, I stayed behind at the boat to tidy up and get dishes done and put away.

As the sounds of the boardwalk began winding down and the din of crowds and the rides subsided I was putting the boat back in order, keeping one ear cocked for the sound of an approaching dinghy motor signifying Charles’ return. With the pervasive carnival noise now silenced, I heard strange squeaking, almost like a chew toy being squeaked, but frantic. I headed out into the cockpit to investigate, worried that something was injured or in distress in the darkness. Instead, I found baby otters.

I couldn’t see them in the darkness but I could hear their periodic bird-like ‘chirp’ sounding every few minutes but getting more and more frequent as minutes passed. Then finally in the distance, a tiny but relieving ‘chirrup’ that would start the pup squeaking frantically and my breathing could return to normal, thankful that mom had made her way back. There were multiple mom and pup pairs and clearly the swimming area in front of the boardwalk was the otter equivalent of a drop-off daycare so sea otter moms could go grocery shopping.

With the party clean-up finished, I sat out in the cockpit listening, my heart aching as emotions cycled between worry and relief, fretting and calm, angst and joy as the chirps went unanswered, until they were, then relief. Twenty minutes, maybe thirty passed, my emotions swinging, and then, in the distance, a dinghy motor, (now working), Charles was home.

We stayed in the cockpit for a bit, listening to the little snippet of everyday otter life, enjoying the quiet of the boardwalk, the lights illuminating silently now, everything has gone still, chaos calmed. It was a long but very successful and memory-making day. Yes things went wrong, but don’t they always? It is how you come through it and make it work that matters, and today I would say we came through it pretty well.

We heard from the parents of Jo Jo’s friends the next day, thanking us. Apparently neither could stop talking about their day, and we already knew Jo Jo had been thrilled, plus (and this is a pretty big plus) there were no unexpected pants-less visitors (!), and then baby otters were the cherry on top of an already amazing sundae (but on Saturday), so in my books that’s a win.