Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Fog is like their dust

Arrive on the ocean after the 25-minute drive in the Skip mobile. The fog shrouds the edge of the rough sea. The wind has blown out the waves. Waves like a mad stampede of buffalo and the fog is like their dust. I walk over the various rocks, broken walls, cement and brick that line the edge. Stand on a high exposed piece of broken wall, wait for a big wave to come crashing in, dive over it with my blue and red Waveline 8 ft fun board. The ocean sucks me out and I barely have to paddle to get outside the breaking waves. I catch a wave immediately and get a quick ride before it closes. I sit out there bobbing in the rough seas waiting for the right wave. Paddle, paddle, paddle, stand up- crash. Try again… another crash… try again… another crash… try again… another crash.

[It fascinates me how much surfing microcosms life. It has all the elements. There is danger, there is frustration and there is work. Lots of work to just put you in the right position at the right time and then when it all goes down, you have a split second to pull it off, actually standing on the wave. That chance of getting a wave is almost always reduced when there are many people out. The ocean can feel crowded and if other surfers see you miss some waves then there goes any respect they might have given and it only gets harder.

There are barely any other surfers out there today. I finally find a better place where these crazy waves are peeling enough for a quick and rough ride.