Another morning with nowhere to be in a hurry. We slept in until the van got too hot to be in, Cleo snuggling with us between the sheets. The cars were both covered in dew from the moist sea air and the parking tickets on our windscreens were also sodden wet. We both copped $50 fines for violating the rules of parking between the hours of 2 and 4am, obviously in place to prevent overnight parking. Bugger. Dan scrunched his up immediately, the trouble of the fine floating away as the paper did. I held on to mine, thinking I’d have to pay it. We weren’t too phased by it. Considering all the money we’d saved on free camps, spending $50 on one perfect night’s camp wasn’t all that bad. We both had showers at the back of the van to start our morning, Dan’s first bottle shower!
Not having much in the way of breakfast food, Dan suggested a place in Pacific Beach he knew about for a pair of breakfast burritos. As I followed him there, I stopped to fill up with petrol, my most expensive tank of the whole trip at nearly $3 per gallon. Dan told me where to head and I parked in the busy beach area of Pacific Beach. Perfect timing, as I walked along the boardwalk, Dan approached the restaurant. We had planned on going to a place called Woody’s but it had a line out the door and only shady seating so we were at Lahaina Beach House instead. It was an old timber shack with a sweet patio out front with prime seating in the sun. With the cold wind coming off the ocean, it was perfect.
We only took a minute perusing the menu on the board inside to decide we were both having breakfast burritos. Dan went to get Cleo while our orders were made. She was happy to come sit in the sand below the patio and people watch with us. P.B. was much more touristy than O.B., with skaters, riders, joggers and walkers all crowding the boardwalk that ran along the beach. We dug into our massive burritos as soon as we got our hands on them and watched the sunbathers set up on the beach as we ate. Both people watching fans, we were mesmerised by the variety of people parading in front of us. I could have sat for hours and we almost did as we contemplated what to do with our day.
Dan was determined to have a sail in the Bay and after a few phone calls, found the Sports Complex in Mission Bay that he’d rented a sailboat from before. Such a local! We drove by the Astro and I picked her up. Despite feeling ready for a nap after such a massive breakfast, once we drove into the bay, we packed a few things into a waterproof container and were up at the front desk enquiring about rentals. I went to the bathroom while Dan perused the boats on offer to decide between the big and small options. Predictably, he was keen for the big one with a main and jib sail for $45 an hour. I couldn’t contribute any expertise, so I was happy with that!
After signing our lives away, we were out at the marina with life jackets on and a man prepared our ship for birthing. After unlocking the rudders and hitching up the steering, he pushed the boat out into the water and Dan and I got on. He was ready to push us away when he asked if we had any questions. Ha, ha, yeah! “How does it work?” Dan didn’t need much instruction, but he did confirm a few things before we set off on our own.
I took my position on the front of the boat, which, in both our imaginations was just a small version of Kevin Costner’s boat that featured in the movie “Waterworld”. Dan was at the helm fiddling with the main sail and steering with the very simple system of PVC piping connected to the two rudders. The wind was gently, but just enough to get up some speed when the boat was lined up just right. Dan was rusty at first and after I had a brief go at tacking and jibing, I relinquished control to the master whose skills became more refined with time. When I asked if we could sail under a bridge across the bay, he accepted the challenge and navigated us towards it. On the way over, I was feeling a bit useless just sitting at the front of the boat so decided to jump off. Yes the water was freezing and yes, by diving in my underwear, my panties went down around my ankles and my boobs were trying to jump out of my bra. As soon as I dove out, I fought to catch up with the boat which hadn’t seemed to be moving that fast when I jumped off. I managed, after some dedicated swimming, to grab onto the rear rudder bar and let my body float along behind the boat as Dan sailed us towards the bridge.
Playing “Waterworld”, I swum around underneath the boat between the two hulls, feeling very much like I could be under the boat fixing something crucial as the water sailed past me. I would get as far forward as I could before letting my body float in the current under the boat and grabbing on to keep attached to the boat. It was a bit of a struggle getting back on board, a manoeuvre that required my panties to fall down again when getting out of the water. Good thing there weren’t too many people out on the bay to see my naked white arse.
Dan expertly steered us through the pilons of the bridge, both of us forming big “O” mouths as we dipped under the bridge when our mast only just cleared the concrete structure. That could have been a big whoops! Once on the other side of the bridge, we were giving some cyclists on the beach a run for their money on speed before turning around to head slowly back to the marina. Now heading into the wind, it was a difficult feat, especially when we got a bit close to the shallow beach and then getting a bit stuck between the bridge pilons before finding wind and getting ourselves out. I’m glad Dan was doing all the work, I’d have been useless.
I tried to stop shaking from the cold as Dan sailed us smoothly across the still water and back to base. By the time we were approaching the marina I was almost warm and Dan had found his sailing legs, looking and working like a pro. He nearly managed to park the boat right in a vacant spot, on the bank of the marina only needing a bit of manoeuvring by me in the water. We lifted the rudders and pulled the boat back onto the shore, right on our return time. I returned my jacket and ran straight to the bathroom before meeting Dan at the front desk to pay. All of that had been only $45 and it was all so easy! The bonus? They had hot showers!
We both took advantage of the shower facilities then met up back at the cars where we contemplated what to do with our afternoon (what a hard life we have). I was keen to see the Mexican wall stretch out into the ocean so we decided to head south to Imperial Beach for some isolated sand. The traffic on the way there was not pleasant, especially when we stopped in at a post office, then a grog shop, then another post office along the way. Once Dan had posted the keys he still had from his jetski job (which he’d forgotten to return when he peaced out), he felt instantly lighter, having no more ties to the job that hadn’t worked out.
It wasn’t much further to Imperial Beach where I drove all the way to the end of a residential street, as far south as I could go. We parked and beers in hand, the three of us walked along the beach. There were choppers everywhere in the sky thanks to the navy base right by the border, though I didn’t quite understand the purpose of the helicopters doing constant and repetitive loops through the sky. We almost had the beach to ourselves, it was quite a change from Ocean Beach and a stark contrast to the tourist-flooded Pacific Beach, one that we all preferred. Cleo kept going into the nature preserve behind the beach, probably chasing endangered birds. We walked south down the beach for a better view of the wall that separates America from Tijuana in Mexico and there it was. The wall didn’t extend a great distance into the ocean, looking easily swimmable to someone fit and with high tolerance for cold water.
The sun was dipping behind thick clouds so it soon became too cold so we head back north to where we’d parked. Dan had promised me a skateboarding lesson and we were in a very quiet street with smooth, flat tarmac so we hung out for a bit. Because the street was also lined with a few palm trees, it seemed a perfect opportunity for Dan to practice his palm-climbing skills. He’d worked for a palm tree trimming company before and he was determined to make it his new source of income, but he needed practice. Thinking I could help with my climbing and ropes knowledge, I encouraged him to get his gear out and get climbing! I mucked around on the skateboard as he kitted up with gear that is upwards of twenty years old, but looking sturdy as ever.
Climbing up the tree wasn’t a problem for the man behind Oasis Palms, but he’d never quite mastered the art of repelling down from the tree using a heaving figure-of-eight device. It was something I’d never seen before, but it was soon obvious that it was a very useful tool. Halfway up the tree, Dan steadied himself and we figured out the best way to arrange his static line to bring himself down to the ground. He was super happy with the result, stating it was much easier repelling than it was to climb downwards! I did a couple more runs on the skateboard as he prepared for another run up the tree, this time determined to get right to the top of the 6-8 meter tree. He climbed it easily and figured that once he was up there he might as well give the tree a trim. I dug his handsaw out of his van and passed it up the rope to him and he got to work. The tree was neat and tidy within minutes and he was repelling back down like a pro, fiddling around with the lock-off feature of the figure-of-eight device and finding himself very satisfied with it. A very successful mission. My skateboarding hadn’t resulted in an injury so I’d call that a win too.
Tired, hungry and thirsty, we were keen for camp so head straight back to Ocean Beach. We were chuffed with ourselves that everyone else was stuck in traffic while our way seemed clear, right until the very end when we slowed a bit. We were back at our usual spot an hour before sunset and I was cooking up some risotto leftovers to fill our hungry bellies as the sky turned orange. I completely missed the sunset thanks to my engrossment in cooking dinner but Dan told me I hadn’t missed much, thanks to the heavy clouds in the sky.
As I cooked, Dan completely transformed his van to a beautiful living space with Cleo taking full advantage. We could sit on the bed with our legs dangling out the door that pointed towards the ocean. Heaven? Dan with his powers of persuasion managed to convince me to have a sip of red wine after dinner, even though I’m not at all a red wine drinker. I was surprised that I could stand the taste at all and even more surprised that I finished off the whole bottle with him. We both had second dinner with a cheese quesadilla and a fry up of potatoes, onions and cheese, finally satisfying our hunger.
A pub downtown had free pool on offer since it was Tuesday and we had every intention of hitting it up, but somehow, as the wine in the bottle dwindled, the music kept playing and we never left the vans. Once you’re in heaven it’s hard to leave. Keen for bed, we couldn’t snuggle into Air Force One just yet, needing to find a camp that wouldn’t cost us $50 for the night. We drove around the residential streets until we found two carparks near to each other, which was more difficult than we expected thanks to the flood of cars parked on the street. Eventually we had success and after giving the car behind me a gentle tap during my parallel park, I walked a few cars back to the Ford and crept in for another five minutes of DVD watching before sleep.