The spiralizer has been given new life. Outa commission the past 2 months, Don’t Follow Don put on his surgical mask, white kitchen apron, and blue rubber gloves, assembled the spiralizer’s broken pieces, bound them together with epoxy.
Speaking truth to plastic surgery, Don’t Follow Don admits, “She’s not as pretty as she once was, but she works better.” Gandalf, 1-of-3, and I have never seen the spiralizer, can’t comment on her looks (if that would even be pc), but we have savored her efforts and can comment on that: delicious and splendid.
The spiralizer sculpted tonight’s meal into long, tender curlicues of orange carrots, green-backed zucchini, white onions, purple eggplant … a garden’s worth of goodies. Add-ons include smashed cherry tomatoes, TJs mixed seafood medley, and a secret sauce.
Completing our meal are Gandalf’s salad, homemade pickles, and breaded shrimp. 1-of-3 prepped our palate with a bottle of Zin from his wine cellar, capped off the meal with chocolate chip scones.
Often a destination, this evening Gandalf, 1-of-3, and I launch from Pt. San Pablo Harbor. With no takeout in mind, we paddle east, gunkhole close to shore. If we find a suitable beach, we’ll take out.
We don’t find a suitable beach.
Less than a mile from Pt. San Pablo Harbor, we pass by Chevron’s refinery. Chevron appears to have a small harbor with a nice looking pocket beach at the far end, but we don’t explore, CCTV cameras mounted every 25 yards along the shore. No doubt looking for scofflaws like us.
Further along, we come up against a rubble of a concrete breakwater that changes our heading from east to west. The breakwater’s purpose is unclear, but there it is,stretching along for some distance.
An interesting aside: Since leaving Pt. San Pablo Harbor, we’ve seen virtually no trash—styrofoam, plastic bags, tennis balls, and so on. Only exception is a 25-yard-long toilet bowl graveyard, the toilet bowls smashed into pieces, left exposed to the elements.
Close to the graveyard is a narrow opening in the breakwater. We paddle through into a large circular harbor formed by more concrete rubble. No boats, no buildings, no activity. Strange place.
Exiting the harbor, we meetup with Don’t Follow Don who’s paddled across the bay from Bruno’s. We four continue on, now northbound. To our right are two big hillocks, far as I know former, maybe current, garbage dumps.
No sign of garbage, just two good-sized hillocks. Evenly spaced all over the barren mounds are the tops of black barrel-sized drums. These we figure are part of a larger system to vent flammable methane gas, the gas an anaerobic byproduct of garbage decomposition.
Also evenly spaced on the hillocks close to the shoreline are benches, picnic tables, and garbage cans, stuff you find in public parks. Nearby are no-tresspassing signs. Your guess is as good as ours.
Past the last hillock, we decide to head back to Pt. San Pablo Harbor. Don’t Follow Don and 1-of-3 navigate the hypotenuse of a right triangle while Gandalf and I, in our faster double, do the other two legs of the triangle.
One side complete, we hang a left onto the other leg at the triangle's right angle. To our starboard, 150 yards out, a tug’s pushing a long barge. “Ya think?” shouts Gandalf from the back of the double. I nod my head, and we’re off.
Not to pat ourselves too heavily on our backs, but we hang with that tug/barge, stay even with her for 1 nautical mile, up until channel marker #4, where she pulls away. No excuses, but Gandalf’s using his small paddle, not his big, souped-up 500-hp blade. Not bragging, just saying.
All four of us converge on the decommissioned and left-at-anchor submersible transport ship, Transquest, paddle the last 0.5 nautical miles into the harbor, take out on the newly installed kayak dock.
Along with the kayak dock, lots of upgrades and renovations at the harbor. We cook our dinner in a barbecue grill under a giant tent, sit at picnic tables, all new. Nearby is a lush vegetable garden, individual camping sites in progress a short-sleeping-bag toss away.
Music’s the only upgrade missing, and Gandalf covers that with a tiny sound system he’s brought. Mighty Sparrow playing Jamaican carnival music attracts a harbor resident to the tent, and we learn more from her, all interesting stuff.
Metal sculptures have been commissioned and placed throughout the harbor. “More are planned,” she says. A sculpture already in place and a favorite is a large crocodile, it’s skin a mosaic of colorful tiles. Night comes, and the croc’s teeth and scales down her long back light up.
A daylight photo of the croc’s in the comiX.
Date: Thurseve, 13 August 2020.
Distance: Six point nine nautical miles.
Speed: Three point five knots.
Time: Two hours.
Spray factor: None.
Dessert: Chocolate chip scones.