The rebuilt Nick’s Cove boat shack glowed Wednesday under clear skies in Marshall, its reflection shimmering in the waters of Tomales Bay beneath the pier — a familiar silhouette returning nearly two years after fire destroyed the original cabin that generations of locals treated as their own.
Inside, colored string lights stretch across the ceiling. Vintage nautical decor lines the walls. The scent of fresh wood lingers in the air. Through a large window beside a new gas stove, the bay ripples just as it always has.
“It’s basically like a warm hug, stepping into there,” Nick’s Cove spokesperson Caitlin Sandberg said.
The original shack was reduced to ash Jan. 7, 2024, when dark smoke began billowing from its chimney. Staff from Nick’s Cove — the hotel and eatery established in the 1930s — tried to put out the flames and called 911, but the fire quickly consumed the cabin and the irreplaceable mementos inside.
Marin County fire crews extinguished the blaze before it spread to the pier. Fire officials later said embers escaping from the wood-burning stove were the likely cause, though the exact origin could not be determined because of the extensive damage, department spokesperson Mari Ochoa said.
Lost in the fire were vintage fishing reels and buoys, neon signs, an old rowboat — and the upright piano that locals routinely played during foggy evenings by the bay. But what people mourned most, Sandberg said, were the memories.
“I got engaged in there!” one person wrote in the comments of The Press Democrat’s coverage of the fire.
Sandberg, who often walked down the pier on chilly nights to warm up inside the glowing cabin, felt the loss deeply.
Nakamine said the decision to rebuild the shack came quickly after the fire, with the structure long regarded as the heart of the Nick’s Cove property. With the help of insurance money and donations, reconstruction began — slowly.
“Everything was just slow,” Nakamine said. Permits took time. Getting supplies out to the remote stretch of coast was difficult. And rebuilding the feel of the interior required countless visits to thrift stores, donation runs and online marketplace searches.
The rebuilt shack mirrors the old one in layout, with a large deck extending over the water — and a piano once again waiting inside. But nearly everything within it is new to the space, gathered piece by piece.
Among the donated and restored items are fishing poles, rods and reels, woodworking tools, old Nick’s Cove signs, a smelt net and brass fixtures crafted to closely match the originals. At the center of the room sits a custom 8-foot cypress table made from a tree that fell about 5 miles south of the restaurant, Nakamine said.
The piano, however, took the longest to replace.
Nakamine looked at more than 50 pianos before finding a vintage upright that nearly matched the one lost in the fire. It came from a man who had spent many wedding anniversaries with his wife at Nick’s Cove’s restaurant.
“The piano might have been the most important piece to get right,” Nakamine said.
A Marin County native, Nakamine has his own memories tied to the instrument. About 25 years ago, during his mother’s birthday celebration at the shack, he played Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” from “Titanic” on the piano.
For decades, the shack functioned as an extension of Nick’s Cove itself — literally. A dedicated phone inside the cabin connected directly to the restaurant for oyster and cocktail orders. The business maintained the structure and filled it with memorabilia from past owners and visitors. Though the pier is public and passersby were always free to wander inside, the shack became a shared gathering place.
In winter, it transformed into Santa Claus’ workshop, with a Christmas tree, garland and lights lining the pier. That tradition returned this year.
Sandberg said she has taken her children — now 6 and 8 — to visit Santa at the shack since they were infants. When the cabin was closed, the workshop moved elsewhere on the property. This year, the children watched as Santa arrived in a red car and walked down the pier, stopping to talk with kids waiting in a two-hour line.
“They got to chase him down the pier into the boat shack,” Sandberg said.
Some things, though, have changed.
The beloved phone line is gone — at least for now. Orders are currently placed through a QR code after staff found the original system charming but unreliable.
“I wouldn’t say we’re never going to bring the phone back, because I think it’s a unique and cool feature,” Nakamine said.
The rebuilt shack is also now available for private parties and events, including new experiences such as a wheelbarrow filled with champagne, caviar and oysters for groups of up to 12.
More than anything, Nakamine said, he’s looking forward to seeing longtime regulars return — grabbing a Bloody Mary, walking down the pier and stepping once again inside a space that has been reborn.
“We’re getting to see their excitement, joy … and the great energy of them going down there again,” he said.
Last week, as the final touches were put in place, Nakamine sat at the piano once more — the same song he had played decades before echoing through the shack again, carrying old memories into a new chapter.