Black Wetsuits are so Two Days Ago!

When life gives you lemons, you bust out the wetsuit that makes you crack yourself up.

I thought that v-neck an inspired touch.

Yes, I did design this wetsuit. No, I don't have any fashion sense at all. That's what made designing it even more enjoyable. I've never been celebrated as a woman who has good taste in clothes. Jeans, tanktops, flip flops, Vans and t-shirts are part of the daily rotation in terms of clothes I prefer to wear. But I often get bitten by the "and-now-for-something-completely-different" bug with regard to my surf life. The wetsuit, which I've had since last year, is simply one of the many examples of that affliction.

Don't hate me because I'm weird.

As the Summer Approaches . . .

. . . my thoughts turn to running over Tremor with my mat.

Whenever Tremor and I share a mat session, someone is usually being run over. And let's just say that someone ain't me!

I say all this to express my love for riding surf mats during the summer. Summer is coming. My mats and I are ready. Tremor, are your legs ready?

Closeouts, Closeouts—We All Fall Down!

Marc

 

 

 

 

Zach

 

 

 

Simon

John

Ellen

Chris

Some chick on a board with polka dots

Surfing with a Purpus or How I Spent My Mother's Day

Well, I seem to have located my stoke since the last time I confessed my deepest, darkest thoughts to this blog. (sigh) Okay, they weren't exactly deep thoughts. I was just in a state where I was utterly devoid of stoke. I didn't know where to find it, wasn't even sure how to look for it. As far as I could tell. my stoke was missing in action.

At some point during the last week, my stoke came out from its hiding place. There were several things that contributed to this.

First, my surf sessions made me happy. My ankle finally decided it didn't need to hurt while I was in the water. I'm now surfing pain-free. That in itself was enough to make my stoke come out into the open for a bit, much like Punxsutawney Phil does before he goes back into his hole for six additional weeks of winter. My stoke was beginning to make its presence known. It wasn't anything in particular. It was the seeming little things—things like dolphins putting on a show while no one else was around.

Things like trying out a, for me, monstrous longboard (at 9'7") that rides so well I don't want to give it back. The board, which is the yellow one with the polka dots in the first photo, looks like it's seen better days. It's had more repairs than I can count. It's delaminating in several places. It's prettiest days are behind it. Nevertheless, this board is phenomenal. I've gotten it on a few good waves, and it has proved itself to be worthy of all of the lore surrounding it.

I surfed the board the other day at my favorite spot. On that day, I managed to pull out the best and longest switch stance wave I've ever ridden. It was easy and felt totally effortless. It must have been a good wave; it prompted Mike Purpus to tell me, "Well, now you're just trying to make me look bad." Yeah, like I could ever make Mike Purpus look bad . . . in the water. He is one bad ass older dude. I love surfing with him. After my wave, I subsequently saw him catch a wave during which he switched his stance three times. Three times!! Yeah, I'm making him look bad!

The second reason why my stoke decided to reappear is that I've been getting my Max Roach/John Bonham/Ginger Baker on. This was in the works at the beginning of the year. Then I destroyed my ankle, thus putting paid the idea of playing the drums. You can't exactly work the hi-hat if you can't move your foot up and down. But once I could get that foot working, I got back on track and began my lessons. Playing the drums, combined with surfing without pain, has sent my stoke off the charts.

How did I spend my Mother's Day? I surfed. I then came home and stripped wax off both the loaner board and my beloved Almond. Interestingly enough, I put my Zombie Apocalypse shoes on my car to dry in the sun. Somehow, one shoe came up missing. The car was parked at the curb, so it's likely someone walked off with it. But why? Those are some seriously nasty shoes. That stolen shoe, like its leftover match, was still wet and dirty from my hike down and back up from the surf break. Who would want it and why? I still don't know. And the shoe has not returned home. Oh well. They were just a few sessions away from the trash bin anyway.

Yes, I know the look of the blog changed. I certainly didn't intend for it to change. However, I was using a seven-year-old template that Google/Blogger wanted me to stop using. Somehow, they won. I can't and won't fight it. Change happens . . . whether we like it or not.

Pray for stoke!

For the Love of the Paipo

First things first: how in the hell do you steer these things?

I did my first paipo session last Sunday with my boys Glenn and Marvin. They were on paipos made by Jon Wegener, paipos with a good amount of rocker, paipos that were somewhat user-friendly. (Can one really define something sans fins as being "user-friendly"?)

The photo below shows that I was beginning to get the hang of it by the time I got out of the water. The paipo stoke was in full effect. I was actually going down the line by the end of the session. I've got the photo to prove it!

Paipo session #2 was . . . uh . . . well . . . a full-on kook fest that saw me trying to remember that the paipo floats quite well WHEN I'M NOT ON IT. I was on my own paipo for this session, a paipo with no rocker, a paipo that was intent upon letting me spend the bulk of my water time being swallowed up by whitewater, unable to steer or find the gear that would launch me onto the shoulder. Most of the session saw me trying to figure out how to ride my plank. And it wasn't pretty. Of course, that's half the fun of riding things like mats and paipos. They make you work for it, really work for it. And that's why the payoff, when it comes, is so damn sweet

It's going to take me awhile to get the hang of riding a piece of plywood like I know what I'm doing.

Broken Bones: 4, Surfsis and Family: 0

Let's see, I totally destroyed two bones in January. And now the old adage has proved to be true—April showers bring May casts. There are two cracked bones in that skinny little wrist.

I broke two. He fractured two. And the year isn't even half over.

Yes, he chose the green. I would have gone with a blue and yellow striped design myself, but they weren't my bones and it wasn't my cast.

(sigh)