I think next year I’ll return to noting these on a wall calendar as I do want to tally my time, but am running out of ways in which to write about what a particular surf was like without resorting to the same descriptions as before – truly, the words were all used up a while ago.
In brief:
#22: Fun. Lefts. A few too many people in the takeoff zone.
#23: Even more fun. Fewer people in the takeoff zone. Lefts.
#24: I take the 6’2″ out in front of my house. Blackberry vines and coyote brush stretch across the trail. One bend narrows to less than a foot wide, eroding on one side into a shrub-filled valley. Stickers wedge between my feet and sandals. I stop several times to remove them. But the ocean stretches out glass when I trundle over the final dune. The waves are small until they hit the sandbar, where they jack up into head-high shorepound. I’m challenged. This board is beautiful, paddles well, but so much smaller than what I’m used to. When I stand up, my back foot wonders where to land. I fall down. Sometimes I don’t. The sun sets. Even without the glowing orange sky, the beauty of being on the edge of the world, the taste of salt on my lips and the caress of the waves would have made the trek worthwhile. I have never become a better surfer by standing on the sand; I will never learn to ride this board if unwilling to wipe out trying. I stride home, beating the dark.
#25: I paddle out with a friend at Ocean Beach, San Francisco. It’s micro – my hair doesn’t even get wet and I’m on the outside. This is an unfamiliar Ocean Beach, a welcome respite from the usual effort the place demands. I’m on a borrowed 7’4″ that works like magic. I want a new board, I think. Like this. I need a new board like this. My 7’6″ is slow and and the 7’5″ is battered and I am due for a new board that paddles well and responds quickly and whose deck is unmarred by patch jobs. Not that I can afford such a thing at the moment. I have been spending my money wrong, I realize (again). I have been spending my time wrong. Why do I do anything other than take every extra minute of my day paddling around and catching waves? Especially when the conditions are so very sweet and easy like this? My friend had only time for a quick surf – he had to get to an appointment. When he mentioned that as we were changing into our wetsuits in his garage, I said, “No problem! I have a lot to do anyway.” After half an hour, when he had to go and he said I could stay out with his board as long as I wanted, I said, “Yes. Yes. Thank you.” And I stayed out until my arms and knees said, “Enough!” and then I went in, grinning and laughing because the day was so beautiful.
#26: Back home, back to the lefts, back to a knot of people angling for position. But everyone took turns and so some of the bumpy, bowly waves were mine. I happened to be nicely placed when a set came and paddled into a wave late, made it – a 21-year-old complimented me on my “sick drop,” which is not a thing I normally hear, so – bonus! After riding a wave till its conclusion, I noticed a beginner paddling and paddling in the triangle of doom. “Are you trying to get in or out?” I asked him. “I’m trying to catch a wave,” he said. I explained he needed to paddle parallel away from the jetty or he’d end up in the channel. He thanked me and angled in that direction. This thing people do – put themselves in the ocean without understanding – frustrates me. I stifled my further desire to advise him, but kept a bit of an eye out in case he needed help. By the time I went in, he’d given up, gotten out. I drove home.
early morning fog, partial clearing 