Who Saw the Sunset?

All of these cams are free.


T*****a (L.A. County Cam)


Zuma (L.A. County Cam)


LPB (L.A. County Cam)

Random Thoughts About Yesterday's Session

How long have I been surfing? Long enough to know that when shortboard surfers are paddling back out, the thing they do to avoid waves that might break on their heads is a duck dive. Yesterday, I shared part of my session with a wayward duck. I'd never surfed near a duck before. I was completely astonished when, as a wave was about to break on her, she slipped under the wave and came out the other side. My first thought, "Hey! That's what surfers do!" Now how dumb a comment was that? That little voice in my head caught me before I could give further thought to the duck: "No shit, Sherlock. That's why it's called a 'DUCK' dive." Now I know why they call it that.

I'd never done a rainy session before. I loved it. What I didn't love was standing out on PCH trying to get and stay dry after the session. It was pouring by then . . . and there was nowhere to go. It's not like I've got a van into which I can climb to change clothes. As if that weren't enough, traffic on PCH was at a standstill. Not only did I have people staring at me as I shimmied into my wetsuit—and what woman doesn't love immature men leering and making stupid noises at her while she puts on her wetsuit?—before the session, but I was also stuck with people staring at me after the session as I flailed, trying to come up with a plan of attack for getting dressed. As if that weren't enough, my car was in the middle of a puddle. This made taking off the wetsuit even more difficult since I was not going to let my wetsuit fall into that muck. What normally takes me about 10 minutes when it's dry out (i.e., drying off and changing clothes without flashing the world) ended up taking me at least half an hour. Good times, good times.

I took a chance. I went to RPB and waited. For waves. I took a book with me (Jose Saramago's The Cave). I opened it once, read two sentences, and put the book back down. It was easier to listen to public radio and watch. For waves. See, a certain website showed that RPB's waves would be "4-6" on Monday. I wanted to believe them. I wanted to believe in them. Even though I'd seen someone catch a wave at Malibu on the free cam and had actually driven up there, I still wanted to believe RPB would show its stuff. Yeah, there were some waves at Malibu and there were only three people out. But I wasn't feeling it. It wasn't the beautiful 'Bu wave. I was also a little worried about the "Warning" sign on the beach. Was the water dirty already? Even before the rain? "Can't do it." I went back to RPB and sat. After an hour, I decided I was an idiot, that it was stupid to sit there looking at the water, longing for waves that weren't materializing. And yet, I stayed put. I wanted to believe. Finally, I promised myself that if nothing happened by 12:30, I'd leave. And there I was. Sitting. Watching. Waiting. Listening to 89.3 KPCC. Then I saw two people at The Point. But there wasn't much there. I don't surf The Point. I surf the bay. I wanted to see waves going all the way across, dammit. Again, I waited, expecting waves to gradually appear as the tides changed. I learned something yesterday: the waves come when they damn well please. It was as if someone had finally put quarters in the wave machine. In literally the blink of an eye, surfable waves began rolling through the bay. I was alone in the bay for I don't know how long. I shared with no one. There was nobody there! I surfed those nice waves all by myself. In Los Angeles!!!

I'm not prone to giddiness. I wasn't giddy when my child was born. (I think the word that best describes my reaction to that event was "terror". Cos I didn't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies!) I don't think I've ever been giddy. It's not an emotion I understand. But when I'd paddle back out, alone (alone!!!) in the bay, and watch the bombs roll toward me, I was giddy, smiling from ear to ear and laughing almost uncontrollably. If that's not a good description of someone who's giddy, I don't know what is.

Why did Wetsand say storm would bring "junky" surf? I surfed in (on?) glass for the majority of my session.

Well, I don't think it gets any better than that. I start the job next Monday and, like so many others, I'll now be a slave to my desk. (sigh) I've lived that life before. I can't say that I like it. But it's not about me anymore. At least yesterday's session gave me one last chance to be free.

Somebody Up There Likes Me

I'm almost at a loss for words. I probably should have attempted a post last night while yesterday's session was fresh in my mind. Now I'm troubled, trying to decide how best to explain and describe yesterday's session. Do I go in chronological order? Should I simply write what pops into my head as it pops into my head? Should I just skip and say, "It was awesome"? I'll sit with my thoughts for awhile and come back.

Don't Just Stand There!!

Make a sacrifice to the surf gods or something!!!


This is how the crew (okay, part of the crew) looks when there's no surf. Everyone stands on or along that wall—watching, talking, kvetching, and playing with our kids. Obviously, I didn't surf yesterday (or today). As of tomorrow, I've got a free week of surfing before I start a new job, one that's more conducive to being a wife and mother. Unfortunately, I'll only be able to do weekend sessions once that job starts. Once summer comes, I may be able to do some evening glass-off sessions too. So I'm praying for at least one decent day of surf this week.

Pourquoi? Por Que? In Other Words, WHY?

Leashless and Fancy Free

Perhaps I don't know the meaning of "flat" or maybe I refuse to take "flat" (as opposed to "no") for an answer. All I knew when I woke up this morning was that I was going surfing. I would find a wave. Somewhere. Somehow. (Well, I wasn't overly optimistic; I still packed my skates and my iPod, just in case.) I called CYT this morning and told her every report I'd seen used the dreaded four-letter word that begins with F. As usual, I needed to check this out for myself. We agreed to meet at El Porto. I've said it before and I'll say it again: "flat" is a relative term when it comes to El Porto. When the local breaks disappoint, you can usually find a little something—if you're on a longboard—at El Porto. Weren't we surprised to enter the parking lot, below the Chevron station, only to find that El Porto was, in fact, flat? No way! Way! CYT looked south and saw a few people in the water. We then headed to 26th Street. All it takes is for me to see one person catch something. When you see that, you know it's not completely flat. Once again, I left the leash in the car. I knew I could handle those conditions without doing too much swimming. To no one's surprise, I enjoyed myself. Small days are always fun. People tend to accept the waves for what they are. No one's going to get aggro over a three foot wave. The few of us who were out could have given a class in wave etiquette. There was no dropping in, no wave hogging, no jockeying for position. We shared what there was and treated each other with civility. It's too bad there's not more of that in the water.

Yet Another Example of So Cal's Declining Quality of Life

TOLL ROAD THROUGH TRESTLES APPROVED
Surfrider and other environmental groups remain optimistic that battle is not over yet

Previous coverage: Will Lowers get paved by new 241 extension toll road?

This just in from our buddies at the Surfrider Foundation:

Well, it's official. The Transportation Corridor Agency has approved a plan to construct the extension of the 241 Foothill South Toll Road along and through the San Mateo Creek watershed, through the Donna O'Neill Land Conservancy and San Onofre State Beach Park's San Mateo campground, and link up with Interstate 5 near Basilone Road.

Yesterday's vote by the TCA was by no means unexpected. The Surfrider Foundation and its coalition partners were neither shocked nor disappointed in the decision. What was a surprise was that the vote was not unanimous. In fact, three of the TCA's own board members voted against the project -- noting that by selecting an alignment that compromised a state park, the project would be setting a potentially disastrous precedent.

As many of you know, during the days leading up Thursday's vote, the Surfrider Foundation led a charge to implore Governor Schwarzenegger to join Attorney Bill Lockyer, State Senators Don Perata, Sheila Kuehl, Joe Simitain, Joe Dunn and Alan Lowenthal, and the California Parks and Recreation Department in supporting California's State Parks by opposing the project's proposed alignment. As of Thursday morning the, Surfrider Foundation's "Save Trestles" Action Alert had netted over 8,500 messages sent to the Governor and his staff.

Through his Secretary of Resources and Secretary of Business Transportation and Housing Sunne McPeak, the Governor's office issued the following comments immediately prior to the TVA's vote:

"This is a complex issue involving a State Park with an expiring lease on Federal military land with the decision-making authority over this proposed road resting in the hands of local officials represented by the Transportation Corridor Authority (TCA)."

"Administration officials are very disappointed that the TCA was unable to find an alternative alignment acceptable to the military. We understand the desperate need to reduce traffic congestion in this area, but are equally concerned about losing valuable state park land that is beloved by so many California residents."

"Following TCA's vote, federal and state law will require the TCA to complete additional filings and a Federal environmental impact statement. The Resources and Business, Transportation and Housing Agencies will continue to work with the military, TCA, local officials and stakeholders to mitigate any impacts on San Onofre State Park should the project go forward as proposed, and to explore all viable alternatives should there be an opportunity to reconsider the alignment."

While not the strong condemnation we had hoped for, the Governor's comments do signal reservations about the projects alignment within the highest level of State Government. They also leave the door open for the Surfrider Foundation and its coalition partners to aggressively move forward with the next phase of the campaign.

The coalition partners will be meeting over the next several days to solidify "next step" strategies and responsibilities -- the first of which will likely be the filing of legal action against the TCA on grounds that the projects Environmental Impact Report contains significant omissions and errors. This effort may also be supported by separate litigation, should the State Attorney General Bill Lockyer decide to file suit on behalf of the State Parks and Recreation Department as well.

In addition to legal action, the TCA also faces a series of hurdles as they begin efforts to secure the necessary approvals and permits for the project. Before construction can begin, the agency must gain approval from the Federal Highway Administration and permits from the following agencies: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Environmental Protection Agency and Army Corps of Engineers, California Department of Fish and Game, Regional Water Quality Control Board and Coastal Commission. The Surfrider Foundation will be working to rally public support to encourage each of these agencies to deny permits for the project.

"This fight is far from over," said Jim Moriarty, Surfrider Foundation's Executive Director. "Rather this is the point in the campaign where Surfrider Foundation and its supporters can play the most pivotal role in stopping this project."

The Surfrider Foundation is calling upon all coastal supporters to stay tuned for specific requests by going to the www.savetrestles.org website and click the "Take Action" section of the website, where we will be posting information on upcoming permit hearings (which we are encouraging everyone to attend and make comments), as well as continued information on how and where to submit comments to Governor Schwarzenegger and other elected and appointed officials.

MORE INFO:

savetrestles.org
surfrider.org

Who Wouldn't Want Warm, Melting Surf Wax on His Butt?

Laughing at the Naysayers

Before I'd even pulled into the lot at the home break, one of the guys drove past me in the opposite direction, giving me the thumbs down sign out the window. I stopped briefly to talk to him. He said there were no waves. Well, I've got to see that for myself. Once in the lot, I ran into two more folks from the crew. They came back saying there was nothing there. Hmmmm, nothing at all? So I took a look. I saw waves. No, they weren't big waves. I don't require a big wave. I just need a wave with enough push to get the board going. I suited up. Another person was going to join me right then . . . until she realized she'd left her wetsuit at home. Okay, I'll go it alone. I was alone for about 10 minutes. Then another member of the crew came out. Seems he and I had the same idea: nobody out means the leash stays in the car. About 20 minutes later, we were joined by the third person, nice and warm in the wetsuit she ran home to retrieve. The session was great. The set waves had some juice. The small waves had shape. It was sunny. There were only three people out. I've got no reason to complain about this session. I also got a good workout in. (Yes, I did a bit of swimming.) I lasted for about an hour and a half before calling it quits. My hands were frozen. I think the recent winds made the water colder. I can tell my muscles are regaining their surfing fitness; paddling is getting easier. It probably doesn't hurt that I've stopped wearing the fleece rashguard under my 3/2. Now I've got enough range of motion in my shoulders, without the rashguard, to paddle harder and faster.

I consider today my "All About Surfing Day". I surfed and then hit up my favorite shop to see, first, if they had any Chris Slick boards, and, second, to see if the prices were frighteningly high as a result of the foam situation. I saw two Slicks, one of which looked like mine but was a little different. The guy manning the shop didn't believe me when I pointed out that their 9'1" Slick had a slight diamond tail while mine did not. I ended up taking my board into the shop so we could compare the two. Our conversation culminated in him putting out a call to Slick, who he wasn't able to reach. But now we're both curious to see what else Slick's got. When Slick delivers his next few boards, they're going to call me. I want to see what other models he makes or perhaps check out a longer one.

As if that weren't enough of an "All About Surfing Day," my husband comes home with Mark Brog's card. Soul Brother #1 was somewhere industrial and saw a guy putting a board in a van. SB #1 then shocked the guy by asking, "Are you a shaper?" Why was this so shocking? Well, most black folks couldn't care less about anything dealing with a surfboard. Most people, upon seeing someone with a board, will ask if that person surfs. What black man asks a guy with a board if he's a shaper? Apparently, Brog was happily surprised by that question. Upon hearing I'd been to Just Longboards to see about a Chris Slick, Brog gave SB #1 his card, telling him to tell me that he (Brog) will shape me a board. My goodness! I was just looking! Now I've got two shapers wanting my business. What's up with that?

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Okay, it's not that big a deal. All I mean is I couldn't stand it any longer and got in a session in less than ideal conditions. I needed to get wet. The wind was nice enough to be up, slowly turning a little bit of nothing into a lot of "Victory at Sea". I didn't even care. I didn't want to skate again. I don't like riding much anymore. It wasn't a day to lift. And I refuse to get on the rowing machine on a sunny day. There was nothing left to do but surf. What I got out there was good enough. I ended doing a lot of paddling. That was fine. I need to do more paddling and get back some of my long-lost surfing fitness. I only got a handful of short rides, the first of which was extremely short as my leash was lodged between my toes. By the time I reached down—while riding the wave—to move the leash and prevent a possible dislocated toe, the ride was over. My next wave was a good one if only for the drop-in. I've been seeing a lot of surfing at Pipeline of late. I think some of what I saw must have rubbed off on me. I'm always amazed by the steep drops those guys will take to make that wave. We've got nothing like that here, at least nothing like that at any of our local breaks. Still, I was at the home break. I've not surfed there in what seems like forever. I'd forgotten how much faster you have to move (as compared to someplace like RPB and Malibu) to get into the wave. The waves at the home break are fast. They also don't seem to want to deliver many corners. So when you see one, you've got to make the best of it. On my second wave, I paddled for a wave that jacked up. I knew it was over my head. I saw the bottom drop out, watched the nose of my board hover in mid-air, and told myself to pull back. Then I stood up . . . and made the drop. I did a little hand drag to slow myself down and went to set up for a bottom turn, only to have the wave closeout. Oh well. That one drop was worth the session. That was fun . . . and surprising. It's not that I think I'm killing it out there. I'm just surprised at my newfound willingness to do things that scare me. I used to watch people at Pipeline and believe I'd never want to do that. But the more I watch this stuff, the more my interest in piqued. I don't think I'll ever surf that well or that fearlessly. I can dream, can't I? Maybe in my next life I'll be a hard charger.

Wanna See Something Stupid?

Let's watch two surfers have a fight. Frankly, this is just dumb. Click here. What gets me is that it keeps escalating. I'm sure this ruined the session of everyone involved and probably put a damper on the moods of everyone else in the water.

Sweet . . . Yeah, It is

Fan-@!#$*!%-tastic

I don't know what got into me today. I wasn't my usual hesitant, feeling out of sorts self. I was a completely different person. I was feeling it from the minute I paddled out. Was it because I surfed in the afternoon rather than in the morning? Was it because I drank some caffeinated tea this morning? (Normally, I stick to decaffeinated beverages.) Was it because I'd put a small Da Hui sticker on the tail of my board for good luck? Was it because I'd watched Longboard TV before the session and felt inspired? I'll never know. All I know is I surprised myself. CYT and I hit RPB this afternoon around noon. She called me yesterday to tell me it was firing hard. I knew I wanted to catch some of this swell today before it left for good. RPB didn't quite fire today, but there was enough of a swell to deliver decent rides. My very first wave set me up for the rest of the session. I actually caught the first wave I paddled for—a very good sign—and then had the presence of mind to step up to the nose when the board slowed down. As the nose started to dip, I had the presence of mind to cross-step back. "This can't be me," I thought. A few waves later, I did two cheater fives on one wave. All I remember is going up to the nose, stepping back, going back up to the nose, and then cross-steppping back again. I didn't come off until the ride was over. "What's going on here?" I don't think I'd ever successfully done that much walking before. But it was time. I'd been a little discouraged of late, thinking (to myself and out loud to the blog) that I was regressing instead of progressing. Today assured me that I was wrong. I don't think it hurt to have seen longboarding on TV this morning. I'd also been reading about a pro female longboarder at some point this morning. At some point, probably while watching TV, I told myself, "I can do that!!" I'd never done "that" before. For some reason, I decided I could do it now. And I did. I even . . . surfed The Point. I've never surfed it before and can't say that I'll go there often. It's just too crowded and there's so much testosterone there. Not my idea of a good time. But CYT caught what I think was the wave of the day while at The Point today. She rode so far that my head actually panned from left to right. It was beautiful. I loved seeing it . . . but it's not like I wanted to go over there and try to duplicate her feat. Nonetheless, she encouraged me to go over there with her. Since I was feeling good, I thought I had nothing to lose by trying. And off I paddled to The Point. Well, once I got there, the waves kind of died. Most of those that rolled through were gutless. The couple of times I did catch something, I was riding with other people, pulling off early in order to give them room. Yes, I can say I've finally tried surfing The Point. I can say I caught waves at The Point. I can't say that I enjoyed it; it was too much like Malibu on a crowded day. I was doing quite well at Dos Baños. I may try The Point another day. I don't know. I like the open bay better. Obviously, it was personally a stellar session. And, yes, I was on the Slick.

The Slapper

Before I move on to the topic at hand, I'll just come right out and say that today's session sucked. The waves seemed to disappear in the few minutes it took me and CYT to stretch before paddling out. A few set waves rolled through here and there. But for the most part, the session was a wash. There was no there there.

Anyway, who cares about an uneventful session? I still got wet and smiled a lot. That meant I was enjoying myself and that's all that matters to me. The person I want to talk about is "The Slapper". Remember I did that contest in Venice last summer? I wrote about this:
Okay, let's now talk about these out of control parents. I knew they could be found in all of the other sports. I didn't expect to see them at a surf contest. In fact, I didn't see this. Someone told me about it. Apparently, a non-competitor strayed into our area near the end of my heat. As my group was getting out and the next heat was getting in, the father of two kids who were competing started yelling to this guy to get out. The guy eventually did and then the father really got in his face. Well, the guy apparently said he didn't understand or something to that effect and these kids' dad hauled off and slapped him. Okay, CYT said the dad slapped him. My response was, "He bitch slapped that guy in front of all these people? That's cold." Question: is a woman allowed to use the term "bitch slapped"? Anyway, the guy on the receiving end did not fight back. I just wonder why the dad felt the need to act like that.
Well, today I saw him, the man CYT calls "The Slapper". Since the parking lot at the Breakwater is closed, we park in the neighborhood and walk to the break. As we drove down a small street in search of a space, CYT saw a guy on a skateboard and exclaimed, "That's him!" Of course, I screamed, "Who?!?" Then she looked at me and said quietly, "The Slapper." (Yes, a couple of bars of dramatic music could be heard when she said that.) We parked near the end of the block where we saw him. We then saw him go into a house a few doors away. I was just happy he was gone. Then, as we were waxing our boards, I could hear that another board was being waxed . . . a few doors away. Before we were done, out he came with his board, heading toward the break. I forget what I said to him, but he was quite civil and, believe it or not, even smiled. I was already a little worried, having heard that there'd been some serious localism going on around here lately. I kept wondering what would greet us once we got in the water. (Granted, people are always nice to me and I've never had a problem here.) We got down to the beach and found that hardly anyone was in the water. It looked like the waves were pumping a bit before we paddled out. I don't know what happened, but there wasn't much out there by the time we made it outside. Within 10 minutes of paddling out, I noticed The Slapper paddling toward us. I wasn't scared or anything, just curious about what would be said. Well, not much was said. He asked, "Are there any waves over here?" I laughed, told him no, and asked if there'd been any waves where he was. He said no, smiled, and paddled away.

This brush with The Slapper prompted me to once again acknowledge that there is a gray area to this localism thing. It's not cut and dried—not that I ever thought it was. I mean, I understand that if you've lived in a place and surfed in a place your entire life, that's yours whether anyone else likes it or not. This guy had "Venice" tattooed across his shoulders. Whether any of us likes it or not, he and the guys he's spent years surfing with will rule that break on a great day. (I've never been there on a great day; I've not witnessed the hostility people tell me about although I'm sure it's there at times.) I'm past the point of asking whether the localism thing is right or wrong. The violence is wrong. I do understand, though, that when you've done something long enough or been in a place long enough, you claim it after a time. We all do (in some way or another). Isn't it one of the reasons why wars are fought . . . okay, except for what's going on in Iraq right now? But I can't say that I blame Kala Alexander for doing what he has to do as the leader of The Wolfpak. Surfers cannot assume that the ocean is open to everyone. It isn't. Sometimes you have to be invited in. And even if you're not invited in and you crash the party, you still have to follow the rules established by the locals. Why? Cos that place is home to them. They make the rules. If you don't follow the rules, you'll be punished. We all do that in our own homes. When people don't act right, we put them out or simply don't invite them back. But since surfing is a sport of pure passion, the homeowners won't be as nice as they might be on land. I mean, some of you saw how angry I got when my neighbors acted up. Why do you think that was? It was because I've lived in the neighborhood my entire life and I don't take kindly to people who jeopardize my family's safety and enjoyment in a place I consider mine. Yeah, after 42 years, I think I've got the right to say it's mine. And I can see why people do it at their local breaks. You form an emotional bond with the things you've always known and then you get irrational when people $#!@ with them. So, I guess I'm trying to say that I don't agree with the violence of localism, but I understand where it comes from and I understand why it exists.

The Slump . . .

is over. After heeding everyone's admonitions about switching boards so much and also spending a little time on the Indo Board, I got in the water today ready to hit it. I went, first, to the home break, expecting to see something good (since it was still high tide). There was nothing good to see. The waves were once again closing out and doing so close to shore. I tried to wait for it to improve, but then it occurred to me that low tide was coming in a few hours. So how was it going to improve? Some of the folks from the crew were there. A few got in. A few left. I kept saying that I thought RPB would have waves. I was told over and over again that this was an impossibility, that RPB wouldn't be breaking. I finally decided I would check for myself. Suffice it to say, it only took me about five minutes to suit up once I was at RPB. There were waves to be had and I was going to surf as many of them as I could. Within 30 minutes of paddling out, I'd caught about five good rides. One of them was surprisingly long. It just kept going and going and going. When I paddled back out, a guy told me I made every section. It was sweet redemption. The only negative about the session was that the waves shut down after about 45 minutes, even though the tide was dropping. Yes it was warm out there (above the water). Still I was too cold to sit there waiting for waves and finally got out.

You know what? I truly believe my Slick is a magical board. I can't believe my good fortune in owning it. No matter what, I always feel centered and comfortable on that board. The guy who shaped this board is an elusive figure who seems to settle in one spot for awhile . . . and then move on. This board is amazing. I love it so much that I'm putting a huge picture of it on the blog. I figure I may never cross paths with a Chris Slick board again and I want to celebrate the one I have . . . and thank it for helping me out of the slump.

Dude, Unhand My Indo Board!!!

Soul Brother #2 is of the belief that the Indo Board is not, in fact, a dry land training tool. So whenever I have it out, this is what happens. First, he gets rid of the board.


Then he proceeds to turn into a miniature version of Ricky Ricardo, using the base as a drum when he breaks into song.

Who Wants to Buy a Surfboard?

How can someone with four surfboards surf so badly? Is the cosmos sending me some kind of message that I'm refusing to hear? (The message sounds something like this: "You suck! Get out of the water! Sell your boards! Give away your wetsuits! Stop telling people you can actually surf!") My surf-related malaise is so severe that I'm even having trouble on the Tyler. How can that be? That board was made for me and I can usually dial into it after a few waves. That wasn't the case today. I spent most of the session watching waves roll from underneath me. I could not, for the life of me, find the sweet spot on that board, the board I adore! I'd catch waves, stall at the top of them, and watch them go. WTF?!? I know I got one good ride. One! ONE! I was at RPB. It wasn't firing, but the waves were definitely rolling through nicely. The shape left a little to be desired. Nonetheless, I caught at least 15 waves today. Still, only a couple of them were good. Once again, I was off. Something didn't feel right and it showed. I could not find trim on more than a couple of them. It was, to say the least, distressing.

Whiff!!! Are you listening? You're the only one who can rescue me from this slump. And, conversely, I'm the only one who can rescue you from your slump. What does that mean? Well, haven't you noticed that you and I tend to have bad sessions at the same time? Haven't I said you're my doppelganger? We all know it's true. The fact that you're white and I'm black, that you're male and I'm female is of little consequence. How can we change our shared surfing fortunes if we both continue to personify "mediocre"? It's time for one of us (okay, you) to step up—er, paddle out—and just kill it. I'd volunteer to do it but I can't even get my log to catch a decent wave. You're our only hope. Do you accept this mission? (And watch, once he starts having good sessions, I will too.)

It's All Downhill From Here

It's not quite locked yet. But I'm so close I can see it!!! I should be fully locked by summer.

I've Joined the Club

Recently, both Ted and Jason blogged about being so disgusted with recent sessions (or the winter conditions) that they were both taking a hiatus from surfing until they knew they'd enjoy it again. I'm close to joining that club!!! Even Whiff is singing that tune as of today's session. (I thought I'd see him at the home break, but the fog made it impossible to clearly see anyone who was more than 50 yards away from me.) Now it's my turn. I swear I've forgotten how to surf. Or perhaps I never knew how to surf. Perhaps this is all a crazy dream that will only take 20 minutes in sleep time as opposed the four years that pass in my dream. And then I woke up this morning, dream long over, thinking I could actually surf. Oh, how wrong I was! Granted I was on the 7'0" . . . but still . . . !!!!!! No, it was not one of my better days in the water. Everything seemed a little off. My timing was off. The waves were off. My attitude was off. All I did was flail around. I think I caught half a wave . . . maybe. I'm wondering, now, if the fact that none of us can surf as regularly as we used to makes a difference in our surfing. I've not felt like myself in the water in a long time. I'm sure that will change soon . . . when I wake and find that it's four years ago, and I've not yet learned how to surf and this blog doesn't even exist! Am I in the Twilight Zone?

I'm No Mona Lisa

Who Should Paint You: M.C. Escher

Open and raw, you would let your true self show for your portrait. And even if your painting turned out a bit dark, it would be honest.

What Artist Should Paint Your Portrait?