Suebob's Red Stapler

Why are tall ships so romantic? There’s something about the big masts and sails billowing in the wind that grabs the imagination and pulls it away across the sea…

Which is what I did on Superbowl Sunday. While everyone else was watching the Puppy Bowl (whatever that is), I was boarding the Hawaiian Chieftain along with about 40 other curious souls for a three-hour “battle sail.”

We followed another tall ship, the Lady Washington, out of Ventura Harbor.

I had never sailed out of the harbor before. I had always taken power boats, so the slow diving of the ponderous ship into the wave troughs took me by surprise. It was so quiet and so slow – the ship felt much more like a part of the ocean than power boats ever do.

The crew is made up of about 10 volunteers, most quite young, who dress in period costume and scramble about the ship, obeying and echoing the captain’s mysterious instructions like “Haul the yarples!” and “Belay the boomfers!” (ok, he never said that, but that’s what it all sounded like to me).

They sign up for various periods of service and sail up and down the west coast, stopping to give educational tours and programs to school kids. I said to one “Your resume is going to look so cool with ‘Sailor’ on it as your last job.”

Those big ships take a lot of sailing, so things were constantly getting furled and unfurled, raised and lowered. As a passenger, I was just generally in the way, except when a crew member asked me to hold a line, which I agreed to do. Then I discovered that she hadn’t said “Hold” but “Haul.” Haul means pulling as hard as you can, which I did until I was tired – when the sail was about halfway down and someone had to come to my rescue and finish the job. I’ll never be a pirate at this rate.

The reason we had to sail so hard was not that we were going anywhere particular, but because we wanted to be in position to shoot cannons at the Lady Washington (and them at us). Not cannon balls, just blanks, which still make a hell of a noise, a huge cloud of smoke and a 3-foot flame. A direct hit is measured by the sharp crack of an echo coming back from the other ship. No ships are sunk in the process.

I just love being on ships. All day my face looked like this:

I hear the Superbowl was a good game this year, but it really can’t compete with sailing around in perfect weather with cannons being fired at you. Highly recommended.

I never finished the story of where CC, Ish and I went on our mini-break in December, so I haven’t told about the best part.

Our final destination was one of my favorite places on earth: the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Jellyfish tank

In fact, I love it so much that I want my carcass turned into fish pellets and scattered in the tanks… Ok, maybe half my carcass. Cremate the other half and put the ashes in a can on a back shelf at Zabar’s Deli, where I’ll be surrounded by the things I love, like cheese strudel and chocolate babka.

ANYWAY. Moving on. Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Thanks to TripAdvisor, we once again found clean, comfortable, cheap accomodations with an on-site owner manning the counter. I asked him if they sold aquarium tickets there at the motel.

“Just two-day passes,” he said as if that would be something no one could possibly want.

I thought for a minute and said “What’s the price difference in a one-day pass and a two-day pass?”

“Oh, they’re the same price,” he said. Two days for the price of one.

Rule Number One of Travel: Ask lots and lots of questions.

People watching a giant school of sardines

We purchased the passes from him and made one of the best possible decisions: even though the aquarium was only open for another two hours that day, we went anyway. This gave us time to see the place when it wasn’t mobbed with people and to get a mental map of the must-sees for the next day.

We exited the aquarium at 6 p.m., shortly before they locked the doors for the night. We hadn’t eaten since brunch and were ravenous, but not hungry enough to consider the cheesy-looking tourist traps like “Louie Linguini’s.”

We asked a docent from the aquarium for dinner advice, since CC wanted clam chowder and Ish wanted calamari. She gave us a lengthy, enthusiastic answer full of good advice: go to Fisherman’s Wharf, where all of the restaurants have little stands outside offering free clam chowder samples. They also hand out coupons for a free calamari appetizer.

Rule Number Two of Travel: Ask someone who looks really bright for advice.

We made the 15-minute walk down to Fisherman’s Wharf and CC and Ish began the arduous trek of tasting all the clam chowder samples. There must be at least 10 places offering them. They made it through five before we decided on a place, Domenico’s, with decent chowder and a vegetarian menu with more than one item on it.

One other place had better chowder, but NO vegetarian food, so let this be a lesson to restauranteurs – accommodate one person’s special dietary preference or lose the whole table.

Fortunately, grilled artichokes were on the vegetarian menu

In the end, CC was sick of chowder from tasting so much and didn’t even order it, but dinner was good and had a great view of the harbor (note: all of the places on Fisherman’s Wharf have a great view of the harbor because, duh, wharf).

That night, I checked Yelp and found a great breakfast spot for the next day. Loulou’s Griddle in the Middle is a tiny little breakfast grill smack in the center of the Municipal Wharf #2, where we ate brulee’d oatmeal (me and CC) and alder-smoked bacon (Ish) as the sun rose and turned the sky peach and apricot and burned the lacy fog off the surface of the perfectly still bay.

Loulou’s Griddle in the Middle. Photo by Adam Burke. Used under a Creative Commons license.

The helpful docent had also tipped us off to arrive at the Aquarium at opening, because they expected a very busy day, since it was the week between Christmas and New Years. As it turned out, it was the busiest day they had ever had. We were glad for the pre-purchased passes, which allowed us to zip in through a short passholder line.

We spent the day in wonder at the three-story tall kelp tank; the deep-sea tank full of sharks, giant sea turtles and bullet-fast silvery tuna; the playful sea otters who chase each other in streams of bubbles; the quiet, shy and amusing sea horses and all manner of other critters.

The hilarious counterpoint to our experience of undersea mystery was Ish’s earnest, constant narration of “These are really good eating,” whenever he saw a species he liked the taste of.

The magical deep-sea tank with sea turtles, dorado and tuna

Eventually the masses of excited children, not all of whom were extremely well-behaved (note to children: saying “Excuse me,” is not a free ticket to shove your way to the front of exhibits) and many of whom were screaming wore us down. We stumbled back out into the light at about 2 pm and hit the road south, talking of squid and seahorses.

CC watching the jellyfish. Better than meditation.