Channel Islands Maritime Museum

Tuesday’s ten-hour jaunt to the Getty, half of the time spent in the car crawling at a snail’s pace amid horrendous traffic, has left us limp. Today we opt just to hang around. Perhaps check out the Channel Islands Maritime Museum in Oxnard — the one we can walk to. Maybe.

Lunch at the Whale’s Tail

It is past noon, and hunger pushes us out the door and down the elevator; then comes time for the decision — drive or walk. We walk, estimating, all in all, it will be a four-mile round trip, down the peninsula, over the bridge, and through the circuitous route on the harbor docks until we get to the channel cut and the Whale’s Tail for lunch.

Michael orders a spicy shrimp cocktail; I try, once again, for the perfect Oysters Rockefeller. I think I have won the tasting game till I sample Michael’s shrimp. Delicious. Next time.

While waiting for the check, Michael can’t resist tempting a seagull with a chip — through a window. The waitress laughs. They hate seagulls around here, we are told, some gulls even take off with the customer’s cell phones — and server’s tips.

Instead of heading straight home, we detour to the Channel Islands Maritime Museum next door. I am not sure what will be here, but I expect it will be the flotsam and jetsam of wrecked ships. I am surprised by the beautiful array of oil paintings of ships and seaports, sea battles and sea spray, and models — so many and so varied; and by the kindness of the docent who shows us around and tells tales of days past.

Losing Michael

As always, I lose Michael. I lingered so long looking at the paintings on the first floor that he left me behind and climbed the stairs to the second floor on his own. I bump into another volunteer who is here to teach an after-school fourth-grade class. She speaks of seals and sea lions that are normally so numerous on the docks below that one year, they sank one end of the dock. Out of sheer necessity, the marina put barriers on the narrow end, forcing the mammals to the middle where they can sunbathe in peace — without sinking themselves or the dock.

The docent, somewhere between 60 – 80 (I’m lousy with age determination), is originally from Cape Cod and moved here thirteen years ago. She loves the East, but she can’t lure her grown children back, even for a visit, ever since they experienced endless summer and endless surf on the Pacific Coast. So, she moved to California, and this lucky lady has a home directly on the beach. She tells me we should visit the Elite (historical community) Theater in Oxnard. I also learn that a walk-through downtown Ventura is a lovely way to spend an afternoon. I add these to my bucket list for the next two weeks.