When we arrived at the Del Rey Yacht Club, we pulled into their guest slip as prescribed, Slip D-289. We quickly settled into what was to be our base for three days, setting up power, draping our cockpit and setting up the cushions, configuring dock lines to keep us still, straightening up our deck, etc. An hour later, the club apologetically informed us that we would have to move a few slips over so that they could accommodate a larger guest boat: better now in the late light of day when we’re all awake than in the dark of night before bed. Trent was especially peeved, even after I explained that we’re guests and that we’re fortunate to have had them so quickly find a solution for us.
Our new spot was within “Battleship Row,” the unofficial term the club members use to describe the dock finger that houses their members’ shiny fleet of large motor yachts: Kandu was dwarfed. Battleship Row enjoys a prominent position directly in front of the clubhouse’s bar and lounge, a frequented part of the club. Of course, with our “Loud Family” Ventura West Marina reputation (read our earlier post, “The Loud Family?”), I carried a stigma that when combined with our cargo-laden decks packed with jugs of fuel and water, exposed dinghy, surfboards, kayaks, and paddles, . . . plus it didn’t help to have our laundry of beach towels, wetsuits, and bathing suits drying on the forward lifelines for all its membership to enjoy. The only things missing were empty beer cans and grandma rockin’ in a chair on the foredeck. So it was no surprise when later the next day the commodore and again, the dock master, explained that we would have to move one more time, but that we could stay there as long as a week (at the customary reciprocal rate of $1/boat foot length per night, after the third night, which is better than what the city charges for its municipal guest dock, $1.50/ft.) I asked the dock master if he could show me where we were to dock so that we could pre-set Kandu’s dock lines. He said, “It’s a walk,” looked at my shoes, “but sure, let’s go.” As we walked to the furthest corner of the club parking lot, and then down a ramp and a walkway that took us even further away from the clubhouse, we turned down the full length of E Dock, as far from shore as possible to its end-tie, Slip E-901. It was immediately apparent that we would be as far away from the clubhouse as any boat could be, while still remaining on club property. This would be the third time we would be docking at the club, equaling the number of days we would be staying at the club. This is where I think I’m over-sensitive.
From the very first, the club welcomed us without issue, providing us complete access to their wonderful facilities, including high-speed Wi-Fi and recreational equipment for the boys, basketball, Ping-Pong and tetherball, . . . and laundry. They provided us with a parking pass for our car that Uncle Bill drove down for us. As stated, the boats they said were coming, came. And the view from our end tie was spectacular, with the Marina Towers and Ritz-Carleton facing us across the way. The Del Rey Yacht Club staff were courteous and accommodating. So I don’t think cutting us off their WiFi was intentional.