Mike King, Municipal Band II

Kayaking around Alamitos Bay is similar to an “upside down” hike. That’s a hike that starts out by going pleasantly downhill, but wait, you’re doing a loop, so you’re stuck trudging uphill at the end of the hike. Not my preference. Because of our local wind conditions, circumnavigating the bay feels about the same: a wind from the southwest gives you an assist when you start, but consequently blows in your face on the way back. (This assumes a starting point near the handball courts on Bay Shore). This is the typical pattern, but not a constant. Start your trip late enough in the afternoon and chances are the winds will die down before you finish. Such was the case Thursday evening when I paddled over to Marine Stadium to check out the Municipal Band concert. 

It was a hot and humid afternoon, but it was gorgeous: the wind and sun at my back, the cool water lapping at the kayak, the sky cloudless. (Was it in Star Trek III that Kirk endearingly told his crew, “May the wind be at our backs”, after stealing the Enterprise to embark on a rogue voyage to Vulcan to save Spock? I love that scene. Is this what normal people think about when they kayak?). An easy paddle: past the southern side of Treasure Island, scudding beyond the Cleft (that’s what I call the Naples Plaza Park indentation of the bay), around the LBYC, under the 2nd Street bridge, past Mother’s Beach and finally into Marine Stadium. 

I glide into the north end, the “cul-de-sac” abutting Marina Vista Park.  There’s a big crowd on the shore side, plenty of boats, a loud buzz of conversation in the air, the band ready to start in about ten minutes. On the water, the boats are coalescing: anchors are tossed out in favorite spots, vessels lashed together, ice chests opened, wine glasses filled. Kids are given their sodas, patted on their heads, and left to their own devices. No question, a laid back atmosphere. I’d be surprised if there was a single negative thought in the entire Muni Band continuum. It was liberating having a kayak in there. A minnow among the groupers. I could maneuver easily between boats, quickly scoot over to any portion of the water that looked interesting, and even sidle up to folks in their boats and talk to them, which I bravely did when I asked one bloke to snap a picture of me. I’ll get back to that exchange in a moment. 

But what about the music? I’ve seen a lot of great performances over the years, including Steely Dan just last Saturday night, and, umm, this wasn’t one of them. Usually it’s exhilarating, and I shout out to my friends, “The Municipal Band rocks. Just go!” I’ve come to these concerts continually since I’ve lived in the Shore and this was the first time I’ve come away trailing wisps of bad musical vibes. The theme was “Legends of Song”, which can mean anything, but we were presented creakingly bland arrangements of Barbra Streisand and Elton John, with some Stevie Wonder (usually one of my favorites), Creedence Clearwater Revival, and others thrown in. I want to stress that the musicianship was superb, but the song arrangements were bland. I felt like my kayak had turned into an elevator, an echo chamber of insipid tunes floating across the bay. OK, I’m exaggerating. Yet the disappointment was real. Nonetheless, the experience of attending a band concert is always uplifting. Earlier I mentioned the guy who took my picture. His take was, “The music is secondary, if not tertiary to the experience.” I tend to agree, at least at this venue. 

On a positive note, I want to applaud the work of vocalist Chuck Wansley, who came out in the latter portion of the show and happily cranked it up several notches. He performed excellent versions of “Every Day I Have the Blues”, “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes”, and “Soul Man”. The audience loved his portion of the show, dancing on the decks of the boats, waving arms, shaking hips, bursting into smiles; blandness a dissipating memory. 

The show ended, but the best was yet to come. The sun had set and the boats slowly made their way back. I paddled in silence towards home. As I rounded the wide bend along Bay Shore north of the 2nd street bridge, the answer to a great mystery was revealed to me. I’ve always wondered where the Black Skimmers go to feed. I frequently see them hunkered down in a cluster with the gulls on the beach near Ocean Blvd., but where do they feed, where do they live?  I saw them now, a half hour after sunset, flying fast, jutting their beaks into the water, intent on catching a meal, silently skimming inches above the ocean, right here in Alamitos Bay. So that’s where you guys eat. 

I continued paddling home, a half-moon dominating the night sky, a crooked smile on my face, and I’m thinking, “I love this place.”