In most parts of the country November means the end of the boating season. Yachts there are pulled from the water and shrink-wrapped against the bitter winter weather. They won’t wet their keels again before Memorial Day.
By Kimmie Haworth
Published: November, 2006
Thankfully, here in the Bay Area, our boating season is 365 days a year. Some of our best boating is in the fall and winter, at least for those of us with power boats. Stalwart sailors usually prefer the spring and summer when the prevailing northwest wind blows through the Golden Gate.
My handsome Captain Sweetie installed a diesel forced-air heater on our trawler, the Dancing Dragon, shortly after we purchased her. We stay warm and cozy, even on the coldest nights. Noodles, our resident boat cat, can usually be found lounging directly in front of the heater vent.
For the past 18 years, we have celebrated Thanksgiving at Angel Island with our boating friends, at least those who can escape from family obligations. It has only rained once, but we always keep our fingers crossed for good weather. On Wednesday afternoon, boats begin to arrive in Ayala Cove. It’s not easy to pick up a mooring there; the currents are swift and the mooring balls are spread far apart. The trick is to get there early so other boaters can’t watch you screw up.
Our Thanksgiving dinner is a pot luck affair. The gentlemen get the turkeys onto the barbeques early in the day and around 11:30AM the tantalizing aroma begins to waft over the water. Meanwhile, the ladies are busy on board putting together their best side dishes; mashed potatoes with shrimp and cheesy topping, sweet potatoes – both plain and with marshmallows, sausage and apple dressing, gallons of gorgeous gravies, turnip and parsnip mash, cranberry dressings, not to mention the desserts – pies to suit every taste, cakes and cookies and every homemade confection you can imagine. Everyone brings their tableware – cloth napkins, crystal glasses, grandma’s silver, and we lay it out in regal fashion. The food, the glorious, glorious food, is set up buffet style. So what if the temperature is only 50 degrees? We bundle up.
Raccoons have been a problem in the past, but they are patient creatures and eagerly wait their turn, beady bandit eyes peering from under the surrounding benches.
Finally, the turkeys are carved, the food is ready and the picnic tables are set. We are serenaded by a friend on guitar as we queue for the grub; the music brings order to the frenzy of last minute preparations.
Who has the biscuits?
Is there any mustard?
As we gradually settle into our food the conversation turns tranquil. We become conscious that we are all together in this magnificent place sharing a sumptuous feast.
Tiburon and Raccoon Straight create a spectacular backdrop for our festivities. The best part is; we can look out over Ayala Cove and see our boats, which have brought us together one more time.
Clean up is quick – we want to get back to our boats before dark. Leftovers are shared, and the raccoons finally are rewarded for their persistence as the remnants of the plates are scraped into the rubbish bins. We row back across the Cove, a flotilla of well-fed revelers.
Until next month, Via Con Queso!
