And if I had a boat…

Now that I’m officially retired, is this the time to buy that rowboat I’ve always wanted? When I was a teenager, I used to spend quality alone time rowing in the protective harbor of Rockport, Massachusetts. My mother’s wealthy friend let me take their boat out to row along the windy marshes in Beverly Farms. More recently I had the chance to row with my friend who has a house on an island in New York on the Saint Lawrence River. I used a photo of my mom on one of my business cards for Keena Co. which shows her rowing a boat with my brother on a lake in New Jersey where we grew up, so perhaps rowing is in my bones. My father was in the Navy after all.

My husband Rob and I were scouting places to host a wedding shower for our younger daughter Olivia and her fiancé James, and went to the Chase Center with our older daughter Jo and her husband Connor to check out a barbecue restaurant there. Once we had parked I asked a woman feeding a meter nearby about additional public parking options. I explained we were looking to host an event and before you know it she invited the four of us plus my grand-dog Ringo to tour her Bay View Boat Club as a potential venue. The place was charming, with an old bar and kitchen plus outdoor seating on worn furniture, overlooking meandering garden paths to the waterfront. Before we could say “we’ll take it,” we learned the place had already been booked on the date we had planned.

Not one to easily give up, I dragged Rob back down to the waterfront the following weekend to see a neighboring property, the Mariposa Hunter’s Point Yacht Club, nudged even closer to the Giants stadium, also right along the water. It was pouring rain and Rob and I ducked in shyly since they are a private club, and expressed our interest in finding a place to throw a party without breaking the bank. The bartender Ed couldn’t have been nicer and explained the rules for renting, including knowing an existing member who could sponsor us. He poured us some drinks and as we talked I mentioned I’d always wanted to have a rowboat. I asked him how to become a member and he said first I needed a boat, which I might be able to buy used on Facebook Marketplace or Craig’s list. Maybe I could donate the boat to the club and they could store it for me? Yearly dues were reasonable and it turned out we know two of their well-loved members, Lester and Kayren, who own the Good Life Grocery right down the street from us.

Well, I found a boat the next day on Craig’s list that fit my imagination and price range and texted Ed to let him know, but found out he was somewhat kidding that I needed to have a boat to join. Inquiring further, I learned the club had nowhere to store it, and was also warned the strong tides weren’t ideal for rowing. Not finding the humor and somewhat discouraged, I shifted my search to the more tranquil lake Merced, located on the southwest side of town by the schools our children had attended. I once tried to learn to row the skinny skiffs the rowing clubs have at the lake, but hated the wobbly craft and multiple crew needed. I walked around to one of the open boathouses and spoke to an instructor who couldn’t think of any place along the lake to store a rowboat, making it clear that they didn’t have room or desire for one. They did confirm that anyone can use the lake, but it would requiring bringing your own boat, conjuring visions of me sweating and swearing trying to trail a rowboat along the steep streets of San Francisco.

But my friend Penny from England thought it was a grand idea and suggested we look at the newly spruced up India Basin Waterfront Park out near Hunters Point along the southeast side of the city on the bay. We drove out along the water past Heron’s Head Park and parked next to a new hipster Cafe Alma, and walked out to the Shipwright’s Cottage which had been meticulously restored. The staff behind the desk were very friendly and explained the shipbuilding program to us which teaches high school students how to build and row their own boats. It sounded wonderful but wasn't exactly the fit I was looking for, as a passenger in their boats on the weekends. Penny suggested I ask the owners of the work yard nearby if I could store a boat with them, but I couldn’t picture myself driving all the way out here to row in a still developing harbor and neighborhood. So we had tea instead.

Opening day for baseball had finally arrived and even though Rob was busy with work, I was determined to ride my bike down to the ballpark for the festivities before the game, which I don’t usually attend due to ticket prices. I packed my own lunch as the last time I had a street sausage, it kept reminding me of its questionable content hourly. I missed most of the ceremony but sat at a cafe table in the shade at McCovey Cove and watched the game on an outdoor screen with sound that was out of sync with the live crowd. Lunch finished, I started to head back home but stopped to ask the nearby boatyard if they knew of anyplace I could store a rowboat. The worker behind the desk couldn’t think of anyplace, as they were a repair yard, but introduced me to a woman who did.

She directed me north of the stadium to South Beach Harbor, a public marina, very pristine and beautifully maintained. I parked my bike inside the office headquarters and climbed the stairs to officially inquire. The staff was very welcoming, and listened to my search for a rowboat home attentively. “Why yes, we have slips for rowboats, quite affordable, currently a few open spaces. You can visit our website and sign right up!” Wow, thank you” I repeated, as I grabbed a free book on the tides and currents and an insurance requirement pamphlet. Returning to my bike I was so excited that I forgot my gloves and rode off contemplating the possibilities. Would I ride my bike down to row, but what about the oars, and which days would I row and what time and would anyone come with me, and is this like having another pet or a job to schedule? When I finally arrived home two hours later than expected, I sat back down in my office and stared at the photo of the boat I’d wanted to buy. It’s a lovely idea, I know, but I’m still thinking.