Things have been pretty slow the last few days. We spent Halloween in Newport, listening to the party boats around us make circles around the harbor, bumping music. Our most Halloween-y event was celebrating our skeleton friend and autopilot, Sebastian’s, first birthday.

Yesterday we woke up and ate breakfast early, so we could make it to the Wedge on Newport Beach before we left for Dana Point. It’s a famous spot, where two waves meet, and crash directly on the steep sand. The walk along the beach was long, but sunny and beautiful. Tor ran the whole way, cheerfully waving his flip-flop-clad hands at everyone he passed. The waves looked flat and we all worried that the Wedge would be dead. But when we got there, it was not dead.

Tucker pulled his wetsuit on in a hurry and ran out into the water, Tor yelling after him to try not to break his neck. Gabe, Tor, and I sat comfortably in the soft, warm sand and watched Tucker and the other brave souls get pummeled. Tor clapped and cheered every time someone popped back out of the water after getting smashed onto the sand.

We walked back along the streets, surrounded by expensive houses. All of the windows had their blinds drawn, and there was no one in sight. The only open doors we saw were where people were painting the walls inside or cleaning. It made me think about all the people living on the streets, while all these beautiful homes sit empty. Capitalism… One good thing about a deserted sidewalk though; we found an untouched pile of melted Halloween candy, and ate chocolate the whole way back.

In the afternoon we motored a few hours to Dana Point. I think we were all relieved to arrive. It’s much less crowded here, and the harbor is tiny compared to Newport. We had a quiet evening. Tor cooked the cheesiest, most delicious vegetables I’ve ever eaten.

Today, I stayed on the boat to rest and catch up on homework while the boys went out to explore. Tor shuttled Gabe to a surf spot, then came back to pick Tucker up and head toward the rocky point, where spear-fishing is supposed to be good. Gabe came back a few hours later, livid at the stand-up paddle boarders who had stolen all of the waves. Tucker and Tor motored up soon after. I asked Tucker if he’d caught any fish with his new shiny spear gun. He told me yes, he’d caught a few. Big ones. He pointed me toward his backpack. Inside was a beautiful, eight-inch Calico Bass. Nonetheless he was proud, and we were proud of him. It was the first fish he’s speared!

Later, as the sun was setting, Tucker climbed up the mast to fix the broken steaming light. It was a careful mission, with many thorough safety precautions. Each of us took turns holding onto the safety line, which was connected straight from our hands to the bottom of his harness. If you’re having trouble visualizing, the point is that the safety line would have done nothing if he had fallen.

While Tucker sat 64 feet in the air, sweating bullets, teetering on the edge of life, Gabe and I hopped in the water for a sunset swim. We air-dried in the setting sun, and watched Tucker struggle his way down from the mast. For dinner we made salad, and Tucker cooked his tiny fish. Once again, he dropped something into the water. This time, our beloved tongs. He made up for it though with his delicious bass.

Tucker continues to be easy to make fun of. But he’s also the only one of us who has caught any fish. The only one to climb up the mast. He gave me the most thorough surfing lessons. And he constantly reassures me that I most likely will not get attacked by a great white.