Shrill, screeching banshee calls wake me from a fitful slumber.
I see a mysterious, melting face in my peripheral vision.
Turn to look and it disappears.
A haunting sheen casts reality in a misty velum.
I pad quietly outside of the cottage.
The moon shines down, strong and brilliant.
A spider gobbles its early morning prey.
Then arches it's back and ejects a wind-wafted spray of silky thread.
Gooey, milky ejaculate.
I skate down the street as the first glimmers of orange alight the eastern sky.
Mysterious lights over Mt. Davidson.
Over the dunes as the offshores cool the back my neck.
Graceful, smoothed-out, inviting sea-surface.
The ingredients are aligning.
Morning daylight, onshores taking their 2 month (hopefully) hiatus.
The only thing lacking is swell.
Oh that we have one or two days of decent surf!
Saturday the fog blanketed the coast. hiding the goods.
A certain spot saw 30 surfies competing for one or two waves every 7 minutes. All the local boys pretty much dominating. Except for a few of the best mounds that squirted through the mosh pit and puckered down the line for one groovy styler chilling low-key on the inside. Saw him steer into a legit shack with a little light-footed redirection of his board. niiice.
Meanwhile... a few miles away.. the fog lifted, uncovering head-high+, clean, powerful, smooth, challenging, growling peaks. Lerm and i paddled out, got mangled by the rugged and relentless spine-crunchers. I snuck into a quality wave a few rides into the session. A large, groundswell peak reared up on the outside. I paddled to meet it and then spun and snuck under the lip. The wave began throwing behind me so i angled my board and air-droppily wedged myself into this sick right. Saw the curtain briefly throw over my head as i took off on an extreme angle and just blindly held on. Manic speed off the drop and then a large, menacing, girthy wall down the line... Long, drawn-out, balanced cutback. Back into the pocket. Relax for a second as the wave reforms and then sprint and pump & run down the line as the wave just peels nicely for a while. Yay!
BUTT... 25 minutes later the winds switch to "fuck-you" onshores and the session is over. It really went from solid to shitty in the span of 30 minutes. weird..
then yesterday small and enjoyable. Sunny, easy, gentle, mushy, slow. I kooked out on a few drops.
Girl ripper photos by Awe'fshore
A few photos from the Adrift Chronicles
but... the waves are still crrraaapppy.
A couple kernals and mushy ramps and half-second sweet spots.
Mostly warbled, mopey, wonkish funky mediocrity.
Not that paddling and catching waves in the ocean isn't a total, unabashed blessing. cause it is.. but.. the idealist in each of us holds out hope for the sight of offshore-licked, head-high, funnelling inner-bar A-frame perfection with just a few friends.
A few drops and things and stuff this morn.
A tad smoother than yesterday morning but more good rides on offer yesterday with the meatier swell.
October is the new July.
(fill in the empty spaces with one or more words)
Holy _____, The surf was _____ this morning.
After battling demons all night, it was _____ to get in the water.
At one point this _____ wave came in and i _____ .
It was _____ . Oh my.
Then this other wave came and I took off on it.
A huge section started to throw so i _____ .
Man, barrels are _____ .
Then a _____ paddled out.
He started _____ and i was _____ .
Later in the session i felt a strange _____ .
But after all that it was _____ to _____ .
Sometimes surfing is _____ .
Jersey! photos from jerseysurfvideo.com
Awesome Puerto Rico photos (thanks to wickedquiver for the link)
Sloppy, minced crud-lickings.
Blustery southland whispers.
A smattering of kernals.
Here, there, nowhere.
Spitting, insouciant California fake-rain.
Reports that other coastal areas are feeling the magic.
Chest-high rocky-point joviality a few hours away.
East Coast rumblings.
Now that i rarely ever drive to surf i only know one spot.
Two sandbars within a two-block stretch.
No outlay of gasoline.
No threat from the OB bandit.
No jangling nerves about crowds, conditions, stinkeye, surf rage.
No wasted hours and hours driving and checking, driving and checking.
A granular slice of coastal charm, occasionally proferring smooth undulating wave-forms.
Most likely not.
95% chance of onshores.
99% certainty of a poor duckdive/ride ratio.
Once in a while some heavy shit.
An amazing amount of variation within that two block stetch.
Differing degrees of enjoyable shittyness.
To the north it's generally inner-bar and heaving.
To the south it breaks on an outer bar... tougher getting out but often better payoff.
The whole area quiet and shifty.
Not the best surf in the area.
Last weekend i visited the Ancient Oceania exibit at the new De Young museum. The whole museum is wonderful and inspiring, but this particular area moved me deeply. Primitive, spiritual, voodoo-like masks and figures brooded and sneered from their cases in the dimly-lit, mysterious corridor. Some of the objects were built with children's skulls and dried animal skin. My mom and girlfriend actually left the exhibit due to the sinister, eery, tangible quality of the artifacts. One object in particular captivated and repulsed at the same time. The head was made of a small human skull with dried boar skin stretched over the front, giving it the appearance of a shrunken head. Cowery-shell eyes were turned down in a sinister expression. The arms, legs, hands and feet were built with sticks strung together with vines and waxy grasses. The fingers were splayed out in a skeletal, threatening pattern. You would NOT want this entity to visit you in your dreams. Which is what happened to me last night...
... shipwrecked deep in the South Pacific. The year: 1785. I'm the only survivor of the great ship Persius on it's exploratory voyage through the south seas. A grand storm seized us in the night and dashed us against an unforgiving coral atoll. I somehow escaped the sucking vortex of the sinking ship, grasped on to some wayward barrels, and floated my way through the night to this seemingly uninhabited spit of island deep in the bowels of nowhere. I floundered my way to a narrow strip of white sand beneath a canopy of thick palm trees. I drug myself onto dry land, looked up, and thought i saw movement in the forest. I then most definitely heard a high-pitched wailing as if some bird were screaming its death knell. Just then a horde of dark-skinned natives descend on me, bind my limbs, gag me, and carry me into the jungled interior. As we approach a village of thatched-rooved huts and frightening totem images i hear the rising rhythm of many people chanting and stomping the ground with their feet. I see flashes of faces, painted and menacing. Their stares are hard and angry, piercing right through my petrified countenence. I attempt to yell but the gag is tightly afixed. I then hear water gurgling and boiling and realize that i'm about to become a ritualized meal. The procession stop and i'm placed on a spit above a huge cauldron of boiling water. A village elder walks out of what seems to be the spiritual temple. He's holding a voodoo figurine with a small humanoid head and cowery shell eyes. He speaks toward me but it seems as if the figurine is speaking. i see it's cracked, ancient mouth move and it says, "You have chosen the wrong time to ascend these shores. The seventh constellation is on the rise in the eastern sky. Our island has gone without rain and we are starving. The gods have sent you as a sign that they are pleased with our offerings of late. Please be at peace and know that you're mana from on high, brought to us in love and atonement."
Just then, as the stomping and chanting rise to a fevered pitch, i'm lowered in the boiling water. Seering pain, gruesome pain... life flashes before my eyes. I see the cowery-shell eyes of the figurine staring at me.
JOC photo from last weekend
archy at the CWC
Lots of energy out there.
Lack of a daytime low-tide has options limited.
My girl ran the Nike half-marathon yesterday so i watched poorly-shaped, Overhead++ groundswell mush and close-outs beneath the sea cliff while i waited for her to round the corner.
I'm sure the few spots that can handle large swells on a higher tide where crowded as all getout... especially considering the Lane was off-limits due to the cold water classic.
I heard that Timmy Reyes pulled into some monster barrel at the Slot on sunday afternoon?
My mom and i took a hike through the Presidio and then spent an hour or two on a little beach in the city.
Little kids playing at the edge of the water..
A backless, 8-foot wall of spine-munching close-out destruction smashed into the steep beach only yards away from the little kid. She got swept off her feet and carried up the beach, deposited on the sand shocked and crying.. but luckily didn't get sucked back out to sea and into path of the next wall of bitch-slapping power force. The waves at Baker were mesmerizing. And there was a booger out there!! Taking off on no-joke Waimea-looking shorepound. He was just getting smashed to smithereens too. Taking off on these huge closeouts in 2 feet of water, air-dropping into foamy, gaping, cataclysmic barrels.. and then just getting cremated. But.. seemingly unfazed by the assaults, as he leisurely paddled back out for more.. very impressive and pretty nuts!
Body-boarders pushing the envelope.
Long, slow, gutless leftovers.
Fog-enshrouded eery stillness.
A few heads bobbing in the misty morning lineup.
Longboard heaven out there.
Slow, easy rollers.
Improvisation, expression, energy.
Temporality, expansiveness, forever.
Interpersonal dynamics, projections, love.
Passions, necessities, spirit, will.
Love, hurt, pain, longing.
Evolution, regrowth, change.
Language, melody, creativity, art.
Knowledge, memory, intuition, excitement.
Profundity, weight, perspective, lightness.
Mear's BAD ASS artwork is hanging at 111 Minna right now. Do yourself a favor and stop in and check it out. These shitty web images do the real paintings little justice.
Smooth A-frame peaks.
Carve some turns.
More hollowness would have been stellar... but...
Nice and mushy as it was.
Find the backdoor.
Seek the steepness.
Muscle the bottom turn.
Look back up toward the lip.
Rise up into the top of the wave.
Try to break the fins free.
Come back down with the closeout.
Ride it out.
A wedgy inside right approaches.
Spin and power-paddle into it.
Look down the line.. it could close-out.. but.. probably not.
Finally, a growling nug!
Paddle paddle paddle. get into the bitch.
Just as it's about to throw it lets you in.
Quick, quiet light-footed pounce to your feet.
Tuck up into the pocket.
Fly down the slightly rumpled, glassy wall.
One high-velocity pump for positioning and acceleration.
The tantalizing "do-a-huge-maneuver-here!" closeout section approaches but some logger is paddling for it.. directly in your path.
Kick out the back to avoid him.
A big, oil-slick A-frame lumbers toward you.
You sprint paddle north, attempting to intercept its path.
The thing grows and rises, cresting and threatening.
You take a chance that it won't quite break yet and paddle-fade deeper and deeper into the pit.
All of a sudden the bottom drops out.
In one motion up to your feet and dropping in.
Long, speed-generating drop.
Long, drawn-out bottom turn on this mushy-but-large right.
The wave slows down, a fat, girthy shoulder... but you have buckets of speed.
Lay it all on the rail.
Thigh-quivering, full-rail cutback... back into the whitewater.
power bottom turn
New Jersey represent!! (photo by Trevor Moran)
A light southerly breeze.
A late sunrise.
A mysterious mist hanging over the ocean.
Fog horns bellow.
Clean, bracing, cold water.
Stave off the ice-cream headache.
Finally get out there after 8467 duckdives.
Some shapely peaks.
A bit of warble.
Lock into a few.
Orchestrated a vertical-esque backhand off-the-top but of course kookishly fell off the back of the wave.
A few character-rich dredgers came through.
A few birds catching their breakfast, diving into the water and frolicking about.
Cool, misty, still solitude in mamma Pacific.
Left Lerm out there hunting for his.
35 minute session. 6 rides.
Thanks to my body for allowing me to surf and swim in the ocean.
Thanks to my parents and my education for setting me up with a bit of free time to explore surfing.
Thanks to this wonderful city for providing a huge beach and myriad activities/jobs/people/beauty.
Thanks to the universal source for granting self-reflective consciousness to us hairless apes.
What if every wave was breaking perfectly all the time? Whatever the perfect conditions were at every wave, that's what would be happening at every moment. hmmm.
A young, sexy, well-endowed teenager and her boyfriend skip school to go have a picnic in the park. They take their basket-lunch and their six-pack and scamper off into a huge, sunny field. They eat some fruit-roll-ups and then start making out. Just as the dude is about to get to second base they notice a strange tingling all over their bodies. All of a sudden it starts to get painful. They look down to discover that the grass has latched on to them and is pulling them underground. Thousands of blades of grass have turned malicious and are grabbing them and pulling them into the earth. They scream and try to break away but it's too late, the grass has them!!! bwaah ha ha... THE GRASS!!!!
A cute, bookwormy, bespeckled college coed named Lucy finishes up her late-night studying in the library. It's 11pm and she's spent. On her way back to the dorm she spots her friend Sally. "Hi Sally, thanks very much for going to my guitar recital, that was very generous of you." "Ouch," Says Sally, "it felt like something just hit me in the head four or five times!" "Huh, that's strange," says Lucy. "Ouch, there is was again. That really really hurt." "Geez, we better get you some gentle drugs." "AAAGHGHGH... my head... my head.. I'm in sooo much pain. When you say the letter G my head throbs and kills!!!" "Golly, my Grandma always guided me to go with the great letter G!" AAGHGHGHGHG!!! i'm DYINGGG!!!!"
Bwaaahhh haaa haaa.... THE LETTER G!!!!
Little Robbie McPete slept all cozy in his bed. He dreamt of monster trucks and frogs. He was a happy child. His parents filled his life with toys, fun and love. He slowly woke up in the middle of the night and realized he had to pee. He was proud of the fact that he could now walk to the bathroom and pee "like a big boy." But the hallway and the dark house were still scary for Robbie. He held his little wee-wee and grimaced. He really had to go!! So he sucked it up and scurried to the bathroom. He did his business and quickly returned to bed. As he was drifting off to sleep again he heard a strange noise from the corner of his room, where a bunch of his toys were piled up. "Sliiiink.... Sliiiink... SLLLLIIINNNKK!" It sounded like metal to Robbie. He quickly grabbed his Bob the Builder headlamp and shone the light into the corner. Nothing appeared out of place at first but then he realized that the slinky was at the foot of his bed, instead of in the corner. Weird. He sat for a while with the light on the slinky but nothing happened. Finally he turned out the light and began dozing off again. Then that sound... "Sliink... SLIINKK.. SLIIIINKK!!" By the time Robbie got his headlamp again he felt the cold steel on his arm. He tried to let out a screem but the cold, unforgiving slinky quickly wrapped itselft around his neck. In one final, tortuous "slink" Robbie was dead. The Slinky slunk back to to the corner.
Bwahh haaa hAaaaah!!! THE SLINKY!!!!
Jeff Chamberlain emailled some great photos (check out his recent article in the Surfer's Journal)
The first largish NW swell of the season pumped into the coast over the weekend.
Wind-torn and angry on Saturday afternoon, sunny and golden on Sunday.
Ridiculous crowds at the chalet.
Solo mid-beach chargers.
People yelling at each other.
A long left... over the ledge and stay high in a crouched pigdog.. wave threatening to toss me over the falls as it thows-out hard and fast. Barely hang on while getting narrelled pretty sweet. See that rounded, conical view and feel the accelerating power of the wave thrust from behind.
Over the falls like the kook i am on a large set wave. Never even got to my feet, just kicked from behind by the choppy peak. airborn and then rinse-cycled for a few seconds. held down.
Saw a cool carving 360 and many nice coverup/barrels and some aggressive hacks.
Watched one seasoned surfer draw out his bottom turn, wait, wait, wait... then sling-shot off the bottom into an impressive lip-crack.
Received some stinkeye.
Glassy walls. Pitching lips. Elevator drops. Quick off-the-tops.
This morning offshore and glassyish, but the swell was lumpy and uninspired. No worries if you missed it. Saw a few nice maneuvers. Christian arced a fast speed turn off-the-top.
Watching ripping surfers is humbling.
I'm a full-on lame-ass tranny kook!!
but catching waves is still fun.
The Dave Parmenter story in the new TSJ is a good read
jury duty had me missing the dawnie.
I'm sure it's magnificent celestial perfection out there.
Probably silk-glass, head-high, uncrowded inner-bar barrels.
Nothing worse than missing surf!
waves somewhere blah blah blah.
Christian getting barrelled.
Judith sleuthing around.
some big ones.
some good ones.
it's out there.
Couldn't see it from the dunes.
Might as well go out anyway.
Lots of whitewater.
Bitch-slapped by OB.
3 raging ice-cream headaches and 854 duckdives later Lerm and i made it outside.
And it's not that good on the outer outer bar where it's breaking.
But.. not total utter crap either.
Some serious warble comprimised the bit of glassiness that existed.
Some heaving barrels.
Gnarly, scooped-out, angry mother fuckers.
Swift southbound current.
Choppy, miserable deep spots and rips.
About a 2 on a scale from 1 to 10.
If you like it wild, raw, meaty but shitty, uncrowded and spooky, then today's your day!
Lerm got annihilated on one toward the end.
I almost took off into a fire-breathing, sucking death-trap.
Probably should've gone.
this photo deserves to be reposted
holloween's coming up.. what are you going to be?
kinda what it felt like this morning
hug the wall
cool Ruffo photo by Stinkeye
BVB says hi
Gumby says hi
A "how bad do you want it" kinda day.
Sloppy topsy curly chunk-o-funk.
Cold and blustery at the beach.
A bit of south in the wind could open things up for certain locations?
i hope Alain won't mind if i post an email he sent.. along with some killer photos. Alain please email me if you'd like me to remove anything... Alain is the man!
I am sure that the 9 hour drive seemed worth it at this point....even if you did miss the first soild NW swell of fall or so I hear.
Anyways, Ive been a daily viewer of your report for the last couple of years. I always enjoy the sick photos and the fact that you even got the balls to check out fluidzone.com. Some intense shit - images of days youre glad not to be a pro; check out the shark island challenge photos. Yes, Im a sponger but that aside, Im a lover of good surf and Im a lover of ob. I was reading all the feedback/commentary about surfing and fatherhood and the one thing that seemed to repeat itself was the idea of sacrifice. Sacrifices
are heavy things, but sometimes they offer the greatest rewards. I am not going be a father anytime soon or anything but I did just make a painful sacrifice. I left the beach and I left SF.
In June I moved to Holland (not Amsterdam but a shit town called Eindhoven) to go to design school for my masters degree in industrial design - for the next 2 years. Holland is an amazing place for its acceptance and interest in creative design concepts and realization (and of course weed). But one thing they havent been able to design is a way for Holland to get swell or simply decent surf. Shit, if only there was the Hossengor Design Academy. That place is probably going off right now, huh? Portugal probably even more. Coxos on steroids, freaky thought.
Anyways the reason Im writing is to tell you that your daily blog of life at the beach makes me feel like Im going to make it through these next 2 years. I can tell you this much, everyday I think about that beast master (ob) and everyday I relate to your encounters with or around her. I can tell you this much, I will never complain about those onshore summer days ever again. Paddling out in the pacific ocean is the most invigorating and calming daily experience available. Not having that around sucks. Enjoy everyday in SF and at the beach, for those of us who couldnt be there to enjoy it with you. Especially during these epic fall days you guys are having. And keep throwing in the musical facts. Thanks for sharing a piece of your day with the rest of us. If you have ever questioned it, just know that it really affect others.
I also attached some photos for you to check out since I figure you like checking out surf photos. Its from my South Africa collection. If you like them you are free to post them. The pictures of j-bay going absolutely off changed my view of surfing forever. Still to this day I have yet to experience such performance and stoke by single individuals during one day of surfing (and Ive been to the box, north point, st. leu, arica, g-land, honolulu bay). The men in
white completely dominated the home turf. It was awesome. And it didnt hurt that Wardo was still around. I was the kook on the boogie board that day for sure. One of the few times I have wished to buy
the ripping surfer chip at the closest shop.
Theres also a picture of a stencil/mural I did at ob before I left. Kind of leaving my mark about this current decision in my life. Go surf.
I'm sure it's intergalactic this morning.
I sorrowfully chose to continue drooling into the pillow rather than suit up and jog down for a dip in ye ol' ocean.
The surface looked good.
I saw some exploding white-water while on my bike at 8:30.
I'm sure it's all-time best ever peaky inner bar barrels with nobody around.
Definitely 75 degree water with plate-glass A-frame perfection.
No doubt chunky, powerful groundswell speed grinders cruising in one after another after another.
Desert Jam 2005 recap:
Thursday night gigantic Oakland jam in preparation.
Wake up 5:30am Friday.
Pack the truck with two drum kits.
Listen to some TJ Kirk, some Throe, some Fugazi, some Bill Cosby comedy.
Off the 5 past Bakersfield.
Up into the desert, past Edwards AFB.
Friend's truck having problems, eating oil.
Drive drive drive.
On a dirt road as the light starts to fade.
Get caught in deep sand.
Push it out. Dig it out. way out.
Get to the spot as the day ends.
Saturday wake up. Jam for about 2 hours.
Hike for a few hours.. scramble on all the rounded boulders.
Other band shows up around 2, with generator.
Huge 3 hour jam ensues.
Sonic maelstrom pulsed out into the desert valley.
Screaming, innervated aliens landing.
Surreal, transcendent, dischordant mania.
Chill, tranquil, stoic doom.
It starts to get windy.
The fire is whipping and angry.
Nighttime wind-seered dust jam.
COLD AND WINDY as the sun sets.
We retreat to cab of the pickup for some respite.
Loll to sleep as the tent punches me in the back of the head from the torrents of wind.
Up early Sunday.
Gigantic, sunshine-filled Sunday morning jam.
9 hour drive home.
If you didn't surf this morning:
Kinda crappy. Smaller. Funky with a wobble to it. Long waits for the decent ones. Crowded in the marginally doable zones. Murky/smelly ooze in the water. Annoying birds kept popping up, scaring the bejeesus out of you. Pretty shitty all in all.. it's good that you slept in.
If you hit it:
Plate glass oil glass tranquil glass. Sheen glassy mega-glass slick smooth mesmerizing glass. GLASSY!! yay! Waves too.. a few came in. Some snarky buggers. A few memorable rides will fuel my 9 hour drive tomorrow.
Awesome parental posts yesterday. Thanks so much for all the contributions. I hope to have a few rugrats some day and y'all are an inspiration. here are a few of the posts:
I'm 34 and have a 3 year old son and an almost-5 year old girl. I had her paddling out with me at age 3, and cruising up and down the coast, occasionally finding ourselves right next to dolphins (with a little full-suit that we got her). While she was still two, she became the youngest participant in the annual Polar Bear Dip, on New Year's Day, here in Cayucos. Yes, if you couldn't tell, I'm crazy proud of my little charger. Now, she paddles out on the LB with me all the time and is charging on the bodyboard, as well. Our son is showing huge interest as well, but really needs a better suit; he ends up frozen in minutes.
What I'm trying to say is that it can be BLAST to share surfing (as well as everything else) with your kids. I was almost 30 when we had our first, and while it wasn't planned AT ALL, it was the best thing that ever happened to us.
One more thing; regarding teenagers being embarassed to be around their surfing dads. There's a local father-daughter team that ALWAYS surf together (she's around 18) and they both RIP and neither seems embarrassed in the least.
Kids are killer.
nap time + good conditions = happy mama.
the best thing i've ever taken part in is raising my son. it's really about sacrificing a lot, esp. if you are older and set in certain ways, like going when it's good. now, if the tide is crap and it's blown out when i can go, i just make the best of it. or go grocery shopping. it doesn't mean i don't feel a little grouchy about it once in a while. we are in hot pursuit of a good camper van so we can drive the coast and surf. if anyone's looking to sell one, pls let me know.
I don't no. I grew up surfing with a buddy and his dad. His dad was pretty cool, taking us to the beach and all. My buddy ended up going pro later in life. There are lamer dads out there.
Depends on lots of stuff. I know a guy who takes his 16 yr old daughter to DP with him literally every day, then clears out of there and speeds off to school, lying to the teachers for his daughter when they are late b/c the surf was good. They get along EXCELLENTLY.
j, no offense but are you fucking kidding?
Your bloated 50 year old dad paddles up on his tanker/bonzer/"o b gun"/funboard/"big guy" shortboard, pick one, probably wearing the helmet your mom forces on him, and starts trying to bro down with you and your just post grom friends, using a weird combination of antique surf lingo and incorrectly applied up-to-date slang he picked up reading your transworld surfs in the shitter before work, and you're not going to think he's lame? Think back to when you were 16, man.
That approach works with the kids 'til they hit puberty, then its pretty lame for at least until they've got a couple of years of college under the belt.
Well, you never know with kids. For some reason, my daughter got this strange fear of water at around age two. And I mean any water -- bathtub, swimming pool, paddling pool anything at all. Which made bathtimes a real joy until she was about 5-6 and it got at bit better. But all that meant that she was a really late starter to swimming -- it took her a few more years to get into a pool. Finally this summer, at age 12, it finally all came together and while she's far from being a strong swimmer, she's at least decent. She's interested in surfing, so I'm thinking Cowells -- we're planning to go down to SC at the end of the month for her b-day
I'd like to go into the confusing story of my Oakland family, but suffice to say after buying my 14 and 12 yr olds wetsuits and a lesson at Cowells, they won't go near the beach, even though they did quite well. Maybe because I haven't spent enough time with them going or hanging at the beach. (I'm in the water.) my wife and I are trying for another so maybe I'll have more patience this time.
Re the Dad front, I sent my wife the video of the guy paddling his son into waves on his longboard under the title "get ready". She wasn't too concerned about me trying that as she couldn't picture me ever buying a longboard. Before anyone comments, note that I am aware that as I get older and wiser my board will probably bet longer and fatter....
Let kids do what they want. Just guide them along the way and provide them an opportunity.
- kaiser sose
inspiring words surfer dads. i've often thought about how i will take my kids into the ocean/mountains/far off lands and try to get them stoked on it...the opposite of how i was raised...but then since he wasn't into it i grew up dreaming and motivated to go find it myself. which makes me wonder-- do any of you still-surfing dads experience the opposite? you're all over it but as a result your kids don't want a thing to do with it?
I don't have kids and it looks like I'm not going to at this stage of the game. I enjoy playing with my friends children but I also like giving them back after I get them all wound up ;^)
On the Father front, my daughter was a bit scared of the pool. Yesterday, she swam the width of the pool for the first time. My wife caught it on video. Game on!
3 weeks away from my first child. We moved in together, with her 9 year old, in May. I have surfed maybe 10 times since then-- Summer shiftiness and now, just commitments, rides to and from soccer,friend's houses etc.
This has been the toughest adjustment of my life- last year, this weekend, I roadied to my sis in Venice B via the 101, stopping leisurely, hit the Queen.. This weekend this year, setting up strollers, washing new baby gear in special baby detergent and about 15 lbs overweight.
That being said, there are many smiles through my days, I love my woman, new child and step child profusely. What I am learning is how to love in a way that is not customized to me and my sole lifestyle. Sacrifice- its deep!
All the words from those grinding on, leaping over or just chilling on the fence of Paternity are really inspiring for this guy turning Man.
hey i forgot to re-mention (is that a word) that using a "kid emergency" excuse to bail on work for a surf is your right as a dutiful dad.
BTW, one more benefit of being a parent is that you get a chance to teach someone to surf, guilt-free.
- friend #1
Being a dad is killer.
I've got two sons that will soon be giving those dorks called the "Kellys Cove Local Boys" a run for their money.
I love my groms.
thanks to all the fathers for sharing the stoke of having a family. it's been great to read how children can not only alter, but enhance one's perspective and experiences.
i've probably gotten more out of this thread than any other one on this blog. niceness.
OK, I just missed. Born in '63. I have a 4 y/o daughter, a 2 y/o son and another son coming on Jan. 6th. WTF were we thinking? 4-bedroom houses aren't cheap! Trundle beds, on the other hand, are.
Soooo true about all those comments on aging and fatherhood. And weekdays are definitely easier than weekends.
Kids are definitely a lot of work but are well worth it. It has been so rewarding sharing the ocean with my kids. My son has always enjoyed the ocean and has become obsessed with surfing (according to his mother)over the past 2 years. It has been so rewarding to see his skill level and stoke improve with each session. One session stands out last fall at OB. It was probably our second or third time out at OB in shoulder to head high decent conditions where we encountered the usual tough paddle out. Once my son made it out he was a bit tentative in the lineup but eventually gained some confidence after a few take-offs on smaller waves. He then caught a nice Aframe set wave which I had a great view of as I was sitting on the shoulder. I don't know who was more stoked- him or me- with his drop-in and carve down the face of that wave. His huge smile on the paddle back out told it all!
Man having kids is tough. I just became a stepfather of 2 lovely ocean loving future surfer girls with grandparents and family in Kauai..sound idealic but there's school homework and all sorts of stuff that a responsible parent must do ahead of surfing. Being responsible is very tough in some ways. Right now how good does a shroomy desert jam sound? E if you have nothing keeping you from going go, my freind, soon life will have more tethers keeping you grounded.
i'm 30 years old, and have 2 boys, 4 and 1/2 and 2 and 1/2. weekend warrior from the east bay, before the boys came along i was 3 times a week for a few years... as a teen in north carolina i was each and every day. i'd pier jump the back of double O waves to get out (on the random days the atlantic would bless us). now my heart skips when OB throws a random 7 footer on an otherwise head high day. in college in virginia i was a hurricane/noreaster/spring break swell only guy.
as a now infrequent surfer, my skills are poor and my fearlessness is lacking (gotta make sure I make it back home in 1 piece). i still love getting in the water every bit as much though, love the challenge of performing better than i should, love having fun in mother ocean, love having my older son tell me to get barrelled for him when i put him to sleep the night before a DP, and love the life i lead as a husband and dad.
it wasn't easy to have kids at the age my wife and i did (25), but I couldn't see doing it any other way now. if my boys get into it, i'll be heading on surf trips every weekend in a few years, camping over night and sharing secluded lineups with 2 of my 3 favorite people in the world. by the time i'm 44, my kids are gone to lead their own lives, and my wife and i will still be pumped to get out and surf/hike/bike/cuddle and generally take advantage of the awesome world we live in...
sometimes i yearn to live in montara, be financially independent, have no children, and do whatever the eff i want. but then i wouldn't be me, and wouldn't have the joys that i have every day in my life.
surf rules. family rules. take what's there and love it....
i'm often impressed by y'all here... keep it up. much love...
Ha, I was born in '62; gradually trying to get my 11yo into surfing. Kind of a setback the last year as he got scared once bodyboarding and hasn't wanted to go back in since. That tough balance between pushing and respecting what they're ready for.
I'm 35 and have 80 kids, my life for a few hours a day can be hell, but it is mostly good.
yup. I'm 37, one boy who is 3 and one who is 1. struggling with the getting older / lack of surf thing as well. kids are so worth it though. we go to OB on the weekends - the wife jogs with the kids, I surf.
surfing during the week is easier - weekends will become more and more for the kids.
trying to stay in shape so when I do surf, I can take full advantage. Bigger boards definitly help - it's not like I go vertical anymore.
Still jonesing though when it is on, and I have to deal with the kids...slowly getting over that though....
48, 49 in november. My kid is five. Waited until 43 before I thought I might be able to handle it. He got his wetsuit when he proved he could swim a length. He's surfed on my back (on the big-ass longboard), and got his first "dunk" about two weeks ago. Didnt like it, we headed in, he had a PB&J sandwich,, sat in the sun for five minutes and then said "I wanna go out again". The real problem is, he likes golf more than surfing (not my fault - I've never played golf in my life). Younger generation. I blame. Ah. Well.
The rest of you youngins - Don't wait to have kids. A lot of people take it for granted that you can have kids later in life. but that is not always the case.
Funny thing is I entertained this "How much surfing do you miss as a dad?" queerie in the water this AM.
For me, I had to give up afternoon sessions. Mostly because my Wife is totally on in the AM, and I pick up the girl from preschool in the evenings.
Yeah, you miss some days. But mostly, I just don't go out in marginal conditions as much. Also, week days are easier than weekends.
- friend #1
good insight web. all of the new experiences that come along with kids sound extremely challenging and rewarding - but at this point, the challenging aspects are winning the debate. if it was only up to me, i'd wait another five years or so and enjoy the freedom and lack of serious responsibility. making babies will force me to take my career much more seriously, thereby insuring my spot in this here cubicle. yuck.
I need a massive spliff, a drum circle, some half clad natural goddesses dancing and a fatty organic salad. what a beautiful morning at the beach.
- nectar of ambrosia
You guys sound like cool dads. Wish mine had been a surfer. Instead it was, " Hey sweetie, just step backwards off the top of the boulde and try to walk down the side. Don't worry about dangling in the air. This rope sling will hold you - trust me, this same belay technique worked for me in '58. " I know you newer dads will do better than this. ;)
Excellent comments, web. I'm going through that late 30's skill transition and trying to get my six year old daughter interested in surfing, so we can share a common experience. She doesn't like getting salt water in her eyes, though, so I signed up as a soccer coach so that I could be involved in something she does like. I'm losing two potential surfing days a week, but it's become less of a big deal with each passing week. Hopefully I won't feel any resentment once the wave machine turns on ;-)
3to5- read your post last night re kids. You must have gone through some tough times having yours at 28. At 28, I was in no way mature enough to handle parenting. But you were most likely way ahead of me mentally. rza- 3to5 is spot on, you will miss epic days, no way around it if you want to be the best parent you can…I am the same age as 3to5, and we had our first kid last year. The problem I am having to figure out is that because I am wanting/having to spend time with her and am missing surf days, my surfing is suffering because of it, also my surfing was already starting to suffer naturally just because I am getting older and cannot surf like I did up to my late thirties. For awhile it really depressed me…then I just let go and accepted the inevitable change….the initial letting go blossomed into welcoming the change…now I am slowly finding more comfort in my current “surf situation” than in my past, when I was surfing WAY better than now. Now, I ride bigger boards to make things easier. When I am “on watch” with my daughter I take her to the beach and hang out with friends and watch them surf. I have found that the younger guys respect my responsibilities and cut me some slack in the water. The older guys have all been there, and sometimes will come in early to hang out on the beach with me. In a strange sort of way, the surfing experience has become more complete by including my family, where before it was a very individual experience. I think our whole crew feels the benefit of seeing the next generation participating in the culture. When I show up now ready to surf, the question is “where is your daughter”. They are actually missing her. It has, in a small way, brought all the surfers in our crew closer together. Something I never thought of or expected. It is a beautiful thing to be part of.
Neal Miyake lives on Oahu and takes killer photos. I think he's a sponger and he scores tons of sessions. He runs this site.
padang padang photo from baliwaves.com
racetracks (i think?)
Here and there you could find a rampy something.
Lots of warble.
Some glassed-off, thicker, inner-bar anvils in the mix.
Difficult to pin down the lined-up opportunities.
Maybe later for all the lunchtime folk?
Desert Jam conundrum:
I no longer have a ride down there so I'd have to use my car.
Estimated 9 hour drive.
In BLM land outside of Joshua Tree.
Two drummers, base player, keys, singer - already committed.
Do i make the huge drive after work on Friday.. jam all day saturday, all night saturday night. Sleep as long as i can on sunday.. then drive all the way back? Always wanted to play amplified music for hours and hours in the desert. The people from LA are good musicians. Fungi has been procured. But it's a gigantic drive. Anyone want to cruise down there and share driving?
- huge drive
- probably about $100 for gas
- Ginormo drive
- Unusual opportunity to freak-out in the desert, fully amplified.
- good musicians
- beautiful surroundings
- Not too spendy other than gas.
- always wanted to do something like this.
- camping is fun.
- get to use headlamp.
Jersey photos from jerseysurfvideo.com
Outer Hawaiian Islands.
Caribbean coast of Nicaragua.
Papa New Guinea.
Zonguldak Turkey, on the Black Sea.
Goa full moon mysto points.
Anquilla, Barbados, Caicos, Saba.
"I'd like to spend some time in Mozambique"
Angola war-torn emptiness.
Daly City dive bombing.
Del Norte County dreamscapes.
The Linda Mar fantasy.
Offshore winds flummox coastal denizens.
Murky, lumpy windswell dumping and shifting.
Two grateful tranny kooks count their blessings.
No sign of Agnus, or INOKEA, phew!
Lerm's head silhouetted as he hustles down the line.
Waves flow in, sometimes good, sometimes not.
Incredible photos from Sean Davey
A few micros out there for the wily and optimistic.
Not too windy, but it looks that way on the surface.
Small, sunny, empty, doable.
In a remote galaxy not too far away...
In a cosmos much like our own...
Powered by 2 generators, gorp, and rock and roll..
Just got the call that it's going down next weekend near Joshua Tree.
3 bands coming together for a weekend of howl-at-the-moon, alcohol-laden, bonfire-licked mischief and excessive decibels.
Thoughts and strength go out to victims and families of the latest Bali bombing.
Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra is a cool band