Commit to Your Quiver

As I was about to paddle out yesterday, it hit me that I've surfed all but one of the boards in my quiver over the last two weeks. Mind you, my quiver isn't that big: Three longboards, two mid-sized boards and a single fin egg in the mid-6 foot range. Still, I'm amazed at the ease with which I'm now able to switch between boards. A year ago, I was on my beloved longboards 95% of the time. I still believed that anything shorter than nine feet was a shortboard.

These days I practically roll my eyes when the conditions dictate that a longboard be my weapon of choice. The last two days have seen me paddle out on the bonzer speed egg shaped by Clayfin. (Is there some law that says surf bloggers, by virtue of our internet kinship, tend to be my favorite shapers?) Last year, that board gave me a fit. This year, I'm finding it to be the "most likely to succeed" board for the upcoming winter waves.

Why this change in perspective? It stems from, I think, a newfound commitment to my quiver. I want to be intimately acquainted with all of my surf craft. What's the point of having more than one surfboard if you don't take advantage of what each board has to offer? One of my longboards, if not two, will soon be on the chopping block. I don't surf the 9'1" single fin anymore and don't plan to do so now that it's been rendered redundant by the other two longboards. One of those longboards may leave simply because I'm ready to move on (and we need the money it can bring into this house). I'm sure that board is also tired of being treated like a rock magnet. Anyway, I've seen the light. It's shining on all of my boards, directing me to give each board its place in the sun. I'm really trying to do that.