A friend took me to try crabbing off the docks at Ft. Baker, an old Army base between the Marin Headland and the San Francisco Bay. Recently, Cavallo Point Lodge http: opened, and many of the luxury rooms are in the old officers' quarters. In late summer, I sat on the porch and had a glass of wine--it's really lovely there, surrounded by tall redwoods and with a view of the bay. I've tried to have dinner there, but it's always been too crowded. The bar, with an open fireplace, also looks nice but is hard to snag spot in there as well. (As well, they teach cooking classes based on what's available at the Farmer's Market).

This dock, however, attracted a different set--the urban hunters and gatherers. People baited hooks to catch smelt and tossed nets holding cages of chicken necks to entice red crabs. There are Dungeness as well, but any of those caught on the bay side of the Golden Gate Bridge had to be tossed back. But there are no limits on red crabs.

Very early on we attracted the attention of some large sea lions. At one point they seemed to suck our chicken bait right through the cage. As the bait was gone, the cage untouched. We also had to battle the whiley seagulls when baiting the pots, as they too seemed to like raw chicken.

We didn't have much luck, and I noticed a guy on the other side pulling in a few crabs. I went and visited with him, and he had caught 30 that day--but arrived at 5 am. These crabs are pretty small, and so mostly people eat the claws and then use the bodies in soups and gumbos. He was leaving so gave us his lucky spot.

We baited, tossed, waited, hauled, up tried again, but no luck. Fish and Game passed through, measuring people's crabs and making sure they weren't keeping any Dungeness. He didn't even bother with us--he could spot our empty bucket from across the dock. The water on the San Francisco Bay was glassy and as it was the second shortest day of the year, the sun started to drop behind the mountains of the Marin Headlands. It's so beautiful, you don't really care what you catch. Then J. pulled up the net, and not only was the chicken gone, but a sea lion had mangled the cage.
So much for crabbing.

We went over to the Presidio Yacht club, which sounds much fancier than it is--a room with dark paneling, old sailing flags festooning the ceilings, and Frank Sinatra on the ancient jukebox. There's no fireplace, but there are no crowds either. We ordered beers and burgers and sat and watch the sunset behind the Golden Gate Bridge.