I spent three days on Bonita Cove, swimming in the bay a few times, but usually rowing ashore for my morning latte and then wandering the board walk to re-familiarize myself with the Southern California way of life. It's hard to get used to with those broad sandy beaches and multitudes of frivolous hedonists strolling in the sunshine.

On the third night I got a visit from the Park Ranger. Well attuned to being on cruiser time (i.e. struggling to know the hour, date, or even day of the week) and still NOT attuned to the officialdom of Southern California, it had only vaguely occurred to me that I might be approaching some sort of limit on how long I'd been anchored in Bonita Cove. My face displaying innocent bewilderment to the nice man in the well-pressed uniform and the substantial looking, officially marked power boat, I got off with a, "Sorry, Sir. It's late for me to head to San Diego this evening, but I'll be out first thing in the morning if that's okay."

It was, but then I had to make good on the promise. I had spent enough energy casually lazing about, so I was in the mood to set off early the next morning. The limited visibility my aging eyes give me in the dark channel had my attention perked up to compensate as I motored out. The approach to Mission Bay had been ridden with lobster pots and kelp, so I was on the lookout for both. In years past I had been well used to making my way around Point Loma, heading what seems like a ridiculously long way out to sea to avoid the kelp beds. I don't remember there being so many lobster floats, though, and it was a constant challenge to weave my way around them to avoid them weaving their way around my propeller.

On the way I called the San Diego Harbor Police to book a slip at the guest docks at the end of Shelter Island. It was a bit disconcerting to have to give such extensive information over the radio, but I knuckled under for the sake of dockside comfort. When I got there some derelict had parked in my promised spot and I had to impress the reception committee of strangers on the dock with my Mabrouka maneuvering skills by spinning her around in the little fairway and backing her neatly into the next slip over. Yee hah!