File Under "Home Break Mascots"
There sits Titus and that underbite . . . in all of their collective glory. You can't help but smile whenever you see this dog. He is neither menacing nor ferocious. I'm not even sure that I've ever heard him bark. Best grill (whether canine or human) ever!!
For the first time in months, I paddled out at The Place Which Shall Remain Nameless on a board instead of a mat. The waves looked a bit timid and the mat requires some juice. TPWSRN usually has size. When I first started surfing there, I would get completely intimidated by the wall of water moving toward me. However, it didn't take long for me to realize that on most days those walls hardly move at the speed of sound. You often hear a lot of frustrated exclamations when a wave that, say, four people have paddled for simply rolls underneath all of them without taking anyone with it toward the shore. In other words, this wave is usually as slow as that guy in front of you on the freeway who's trying to text and read the paper while steering the car with his thigh. What I love about this place is that the wave has shape. You can count on that unless a swell is hitting it straight on (at which point the spot closes out). Today, I went to check it out, didn't see much and called off a friend who was supposed to meet me there. Thankfully, something told me to keep watching.
Ten minutes later, I was calling my friend back, telling her that I saw what looked like breaking waves. I think she was throwing her stuff into her car before we even got off the phone. After awhile, another friend and I got the texts going back and forth. I reported my findings. He let it be known that he was on his way.
All told, there were probably no more than 10 of us in the water at one time. Waves were shared. Waves were given away. Civility was the norm. I love that. And it was a treat to be back in the lineup on a surfboard. Nonetheless, the next time I see some real juice in the water there, I'm getting back on my mat.