…and a little glimpse into life lately and the Sausalito Boat Show

I stood in front of my closet, searching aimlessly for something that resembled my former self.

Or, perhaps more importantly, something that would make me feel comfortable stepping back into a setting that was once entirely my world, but now felt somewhat foreign without being unfamiliar. I needed an outfit that could act as a mask and armor all at once; something that would let me blend in, remind me that I belonged, and keep me from looking entirely out of place while I figured that part out for myself.

I managed to piece together something appropriate, complete with a Cruising World tote bag, and decided I had succeeded in my humble quest for cuteness and comfort. Unfortunately, I realized far too late that I had abandoned my cardinal rule.

“I should have worn slip-ons,” I grumbled as I struggled to shove my feet back into my shoes.

Somehow, the laces had become tangled around themselves, my feet refused to cooperate, and there I was, standing on the dock beside the swim step of a Sirena 60 while yachties came and went around me. I chose to ignore the fact that I had become a momentary nuisance to dock traffic and instead focused on finally getting my feet contained.

Rule number one of attending a boat show: comfortable shoes. Preferably slip-ons.

For this exact reason.

The fall breeze swept my hair across my face while the same wind sent a sea of promotional flags dancing above the yachts surrounding me. San Francisco Bay is lovely this time of year, and from Sausalito, it really doesn’t get much better and I am certainly not the first person to settle on this idea. Sailors, artists, musicians, and general misfits have been finding the magic in Sausalito for generations.

Sitting on the Dock of the Bay at the Sausalito boat show

Sausalito has always had a certain magnetism to it. Sausalito boat show

Before the Golden Gate Bridge connected Marin to San Francisco, ferries carried people across the Bay from Sausalito, establishing the waterfront town as an important transportation hub. Then came World War II, when the northern waterfront was transformed into the sprawling Marinship shipyard. Thousands of workers descended on town, and over the course of the war, the yard turned out 93 Liberty ships and tankers.

When the war ended, the industrial frenzy quieted, leaving behind a waterfront that would eventually attract an entirely different cast of characters: artists, writers, musicians, sailors, hippies, boatbuilders, and those who generally run without titles. By the 1950s and ’60s, Sausalito’s waterfront had developed a wonderfully bohemian reputation, populated by people like artist Jean Varda, philosopher Alan Watts, sailor and actor Sterling Hayden, and eventually Otis Redding.

In 1967, Redding escaped the commotion of San Francisco and spent time aboard a houseboat in Sausalito. Sitting beside the water, watching the ships and tides come and go, he began working on what would become one of the most recognizable songs in American music: “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.” So yes, that dock of the bay.

There is something wonderfully poetic about that little piece of history. Sausalito has always seemed to be a place where people come to float for a while, literally or otherwise. A place to breathe, create, regroup, and perhaps figure out what comes next. Maybe that was part of why being back felt so fitting, and why hosting a boat show here felt like the perfect epicenter to celebrate and progress boating culture on the West Coast. I feel confident saying that because, as I gazed past the little remote-control sailboats tacking back and forth across the cove, my eyes eventually settled on Richardson Bay.

For a moment, I could almost see the phantom of Avocet out there among the masts.

Four years earlier, Avocet had briefly occupied that very stretch of water with me aboard, living an entirely different version of my life. Back then, I was experiencing the Bay from Avocet’s cockpit. The boat was my home, the sailing community was my world, and Mexico was entirely unknown and waiting somewhere ahead of us. I had absolutely no idea just how much life was about to happen between then and now.

Four years later, I had returned to the same waterfront, and retracing my steps from 2022 felt less like revisiting a place and more like reconnecting with a piece of myself I had left floating somewhere in the Bay. Avocet wasn’t with me this time, but as I was reminded by the swanky boat show credentials hanging around my neck, she is still very much a part of my identity if I allow her to be. The miles we sailed, the places we found, the stories I wrote, and the person I became along the way are still mine to carry forward.

“Avocet, right?” someone asked as I shook their hand. With the Bay as our backdrop in what seemed to be the epicenter of Bay Area boating a smile darted across my face as I confirmed their suspicion and met a new friend who had known of me because of my articles in Cruising World. It was a warm welcome back to the community and I was excited to see what this show had to offer.

A Boat Show Worth Watching

The Sausalito Boat Show itself is almost as new to the waterfront as I was to being back in this world. The inaugural show was held in 2023, born from a collaboration between Sausalito’s boating and business communities with the idea of creating something that celebrated not only boats, but the culture surrounding them. Four years later, that little idea has grown into a three-day waterfront event with more than 80 boats displayed on land and in the water. More importantly, it isn’t just a yacht show.

Yes, there are plenty of beautiful boats to step aboard and subsequently convince yourself you absolutely need. Sailboats, powerboats, classic Chris-Crafts, electric boats, trailerable boats, charter yachts, and the big shiny things with enough square footage to make you briefly reconsider every financial decision you’ve ever made; But what interested me more was everything happening between them.

Marine businesses and boatbuilders filled the show alongside brokers, riggers, mechanics, sailing schools, gear manufacturers, and people developing the technology that will shape what boating looks like next. There were opportunities to get on the water and learn to sail, an entire electric boat expo, and seminars covering everything from diesel engines and rigging to cruising Mexico and protecting whales in San Francisco Bay.

There were kids racing model boats across the cove, live music drifting across the marina, local food and cocktails, a Women in Yachting breakfast, and plenty of people perfectly content to spend an afternoon walking around talking about boats with other people who also enjoy walking around talking about boats. My kind of people.

That mix is what I think makes Sausalito particularly exciting.

The big established boat shows are incredible, but there is something special about watching a younger show decide what it wants to become. Sausalito has an opportunity to create something distinctly West Coast—not a smaller imitation of Annapolis or Miami, but a celebration of the boating culture that already exists here, because Northern California boating has its own personality. After all, people say if you can sail the SF Bay you can sail anywhere, and given my experience I have half a mind to believe them.

You don’t have to be shopping for a yacht to enjoy a boat show. In fact, I think some of the best reasons to attend have nothing to do with buying a boat at all. Be like me and go aboard something wildly outside your budget, like the Sirena 60 I was fumbling outside of. Ask vendors questions. Sit through a seminar about something you know nothing about. Talk to the sailor standing next to you. Have a cocktail. Let your kids race a tiny sailboat. Learn something.

Boating culture doesn’t continue simply because we keep building boats. It continues because we keep giving people reasons to fall in love with being on the water.

Back to the Sausalito Boat Show

I had spent the better part of four years trying to figure out how to attend the Sausalito Boat Show, in large part because of my dear friend Nicki Bennett, who has poured so much of herself into it and is a force to be reckoned with in every sense of the phrase.

Nicki is a woman of nature, adventure, and seemingly endless energy. I like to think of her as a kindred spirit. She radiates joy, strength, and the kind of friendship that makes you feel lucky to have her in your corner. So when I finally had the opportunity to attend, I was thrilled—not only to see what this relatively new West Coast boat show was all about, but to finally support something she had worked so hard to build.

Around my neck hung credentials bearing my name and, underneath it, Sailing Avocet.

Nicki got me into the show, of course, but in doing so she also reminded me who I was and what space I still occupied in this community. Because even after all of the articles, interviews, blog posts, and YouTube videos, I still needed a little reminding.

Once a Sailor…

A week prior, I had dinner with my friend and mentor Lin Pardey at her dear friend Mary’s home. Over wine and pizza, we talked about writing, books, sailing, and life—the sort of conversation where hours disappear before anyone realizes how late it has become. Somewhere in that conversation, I admitted something I had been quietly wrestling with: I wasn’t sure where I fit in the sailing world anymore.

I had taken a hiatus. Life had rearranged itself. I had stepped ashore to rebuild, reorganize, and figure out what the next version of my life looked like. Meanwhile, the sailing world had kept sailing without me. (As it should)

Lin and Mary offered the sort of wisdom that only comes from women who have lived enough life to know that chapters ending do not erase the ones that came before them. They eased my fears about whether I still belonged in this community simply because I had stepped away from it for a while.

My heart and mind are that of a sailor. So, a sailor I will always be.

Walking into the Sausalito Boat Show felt a little like testing that theory. Thankfully, the community welcomed me back with open arms and in a much less intense fashion than the wonderful chaos that is the Annapolis Sailboat Show, which I appreciated.

Familiar Faces, New Introductions

Just like Annapolis, I used the show as an opportunity to reconnect with publishers, marine-industry friends, and people I had collected along the way throughout my years afloat.

David from Latitudes & Attitudes was there with his darling wife, whom I finally had the opportunity to meet after all these years. It was good to catch up on the West Coast for once—my home turf—and talk about how deeply the Bay Area sailing scene is woven into my own sailing story.

He had questions.

I had answers.

And just like that, another article may have been born.

I also caught up with the Beta Marine boys and wandered through the vendors wearing not just one hat, but several. I was there as a representative of Avocet, certainly, but also as a representative of the person I had become while Avocet and I were taking some time apart. Because during my hiatus from sailing, I reinvented myself. Again.

This time, I dove headfirst into the world of insurance—or, as I have been spicing it up lately, I became a professional risk manager and amateur risk taker. I think it’s a good enough hook to make “insurance agent” sound at least marginally more exciting. There was something amusingly appropriate about standing at a boat show talking about marine insurance after years of being the person on the other side of the desk, making sure vessels at my marina carried the proper coverage. Life has a funny way of repurposing experience.

Eventually, I grabbed a coconut margarita served inside a Sausalito Boat Show-branded coconut while my friends sampled various offerings from the food trucks. Eric, who had flown us to Sausalito that morning, was off on a briefing call for something happening later in the afternoon.

More on that in a minute.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Nicki in her bright red blazer walking along the waterfront and joined her for a lap down the docks, where we stopped to admire the collection of classic Chris-Crafts –– Yet another thing Sausalito has that Annapolis does not.

After another lap around the show, I stopped for a moment and took it all in one last time before we left to head home to San Luis Obispo the same way we had arrived…by plane. Because Lord knows nothing in my life—like simply driving a car—is conventional these days.

It felt good to get my toes wet in the sailing world again. Really good.

Somewhere between catching up with old friends, talking boats with vendors, wandering the docks, and watching little sailboats tack across the cove, something in me had shifted. I arrived wondering if I still belonged in this world and left thinking about when I could get back to Avocet. I wanted to write again. I wanted to make plans again. More than anything, I wanted to find my way back into the community that had given me so much—not necessarily as the same person I was four years ago, but as the person I am now.

Next year, I don’t want to simply attend, I want to find ways to be more involved; to support Nicki and the people building this show, and to give something back to the sailing community that has given me stories, friendships, a career, and an identity I am finally learning I never actually lost.

The Sausalito Boat Show is still young, and so much of its story has yet to be written. After seeing what it has already become and knowing the people behind it I can’t wait to see what comes next; For the show, for Avocet, and, apparently, for me too.

But before closing out our time at the show, there was still a little magic left: We had a flyover to make.

From Sea to Sky

During my hiatus from sailing, I also managed to pick up another wonderfully expensive hobby: aviation.

I have made some incredible friends in the aviation community who have supported my journey as a student pilot and gone out of their way to include me in their world whether that means teaching me something new, letting me tag along, or, in this particular case, flying me to a boat show. But getting there was only half the fun, Eric was also part of the show’s flyover.

After leaving Sausalito, we joined up with two RVs and a Yak, flying formation over the waterfront performing various maneuvers above the boat show before eventually breaking away and heading back toward wherever each had come from. For us, that meant SLO.

Later, Nicki sent me a video of the flyover from the ground.

I sent her one from overhead.

And somewhere in that exchange, it hit me: My two worlds had collided.

Below me was the community that had defined so much of my twenties—the boats, docks, sailors, writers, publishers, friends, and that familiar stretch of San Francisco Bay. Somewhere down there were docks not terribly different from the ones where Otis Redding once sat watching the tide roll away. Somewhere beyond the show were the waters Avocet and I had sailed together four years earlier.

Around me was this new world I had stumbled into: airplanes, formation flying, and an entirely different kind of adventure that had reminded me just how much I love learning something from the beginning.

For a while, I think I had treated those two versions of myself as separate people. There was Sailing Avocet Marissa and then there was whoever came next. But looking down at the boat show from the window of a Bonanza, I realized I didn’t have to choose between them. An old chapter had bled perfectly into a new one.

Sailing hadn’t disappeared simply because my life had changed. Avocet hadn’t stopped being part of my story because I had stepped ashore for a while. The sailor in me hadn’t gone anywhere. She had just been busy learning how to fly…and sell insurance, apparently.

Somewhere between the docks of Sausalito and the flight home to San Luis Obispo, that little flame I thought I might have lost was stoked again.

It feels good to be back. Now, let’s go sailing, shall we?