Time of Far and Few

The post weeks-of-surf syndrome had been wearing hard, but there has been some respite the last couple of days. On one of the in-between-days, when a one wave set about waist high rolled in every 30 minutes, I tried to talk the boyz into drawing straws to see who would get to ride the lone set wave. As the discussion progressed, I slipped from the group and bolted down to Tiburones in hopes of catching a wave off-guard. It took no time for the combined weight of the boyz to dampen any remaining waves. Another day, I found myself at Tiburones with one of the bros doing the brotation on ever-so-small south lines. After a while, I was by myself. It didn't take long for someone else to fill the void - but this dude I know not - apparently he knew me. Waiting at the bowl together, a wave approached, and I suggested he go - LB and all - brotation in effect. He said he was too far out and couldn't catch the wave. I thought, "dude - LB and a little elbow grease and you've got a fun nose-rider." Oh well. Another wave approached and I turned to go - without asking. I got a couple pumps down the line when my new friend dropped in on me, the wave sectioned-off, and I bailed. When my new friend got back outside, I ask if he wouldn't like to sit at the bowl and engage in the brotation that had been happening before he entered the scene. No. Blood veins popping I asked with a raised voice, "why the f--K not? Either you sit at the bowl and rotate or, if you sit on the shoulder, don't drop in!" His response just about did it - "I've seen you drop in on people." "WHAT! OF F--KING course I have - I surf you F--KING moron." Needless to say, I didn't get through to my new friend - we parted - "F--K YOU - MAGGOT" I went in shortly thereafter. As the lack of surf droned on, talk turned to the mysto internet wave forecast. Waves were scheduled to come Thursday AM - nothing. On the cliff, the talk ranged from - "I heard it was macking on the South Shore, should be here any time" to "There's a contest this weekend, so figure". Friday afternoon, Butterscotch, George, Hot Dog, myself - and others sat at Tiburones and caught a few - very few. You know, we got wet. Over the weekend, I saw Pat and Butterscotch dominating the masses and evading near miss after near miss - ten over too. So the update - The last couple of days, I got some south swell waves at La Bol Segunda with Pat, Greg, Rick, Hot Dog, Fly Trap, and all the other late summer assholes in the way. Schools just about in and fall is approaching - a shot of tonic.

Surfers measure the seasons by observation. The position of the sun, moon, and constellations. Shadows of landmarks, changes in the natural surroundings, swell direction, tides, and temperature. My house faces south with the North Star at its back. Like some kind of Stonehenge, I watch as the sun's arc moves closer and closer to a position even with the front edge of the house - fall. It's around the corner, and so is the expectation of diminished crowds, strong west swells, late souths, and long-period norths. It has been a decent summer, but it's hard not to look forward.

One look at the beltway - Apparently the FEDCORP sued one of its contractors - big contractor - for fraud. You know, billing projects that do not exist, overcharges, lying, cheating, stealing. Any way, the court found that the CORPcontractor was guilty, but had to throw the suit out of court because the CORPcontractor's contract was with the provisional government of Iraq (remember - the CORPGOV we set up - L. Paul Bremmer subleased) not the US. In the end, we are talking about our tax dollars being ripped off - sweet. These guys know how to run a shell game. Art by KB. See ya in the soup.  ¶ 9:13 PM 2 comments

 

Panning for Gold

This summer is showing up like ants to a picnic, and so are the masses - but that later. The numbers don't lie. Since around mid July, the swell has ranged from 2.8 to 3.7 feet with periods between 14 and 17 seconds. More importantly, the direction couldn't have been better. Swell directions ranged between 195 and 215. We had solid surf until August 9th, when the ocean settled into the expected summer doldrums. Pros and masses alike, along with all the caste in between, were drinking from the cup, and the cup continued to be full. One afternoon during the onslaught, I surfed head-high to overhead surf at Tiburones - full brotation with a couple of the crew. Sets poured through with 7 to 10 waves - the typical lull between south swells sets was absent. At one point I started to paddle for a wave, but looking down the line, I knew I would get blasted. I tried to pull out, and thought I successfully ejected out the back - but no. Somehow I became part of the foam ball, and got pushed inside. Next thing I know, an outside set started pushing through. I ducked the first wave only to face a headhigh wall of whitewater. The whitewater wall pushed me to the bottom, raked me across the reef, and deposited me inside the cove. The barrage continued for at least 10 waves. I was wasted after the paddle back to the lineup. Needless to say, I didn't last much longer. Surfed out, I climbed the steps - slowly. At the top were the young rippers - Matt, Ryan, Brad - even they were surfed out! C'mon kids! It was a great stretch of surf - everyone was ripping - Butterscotch, Fly Trap, Scruffy, Peter, Andy, Kirk on the Ferrari, Ray on the wave of the day, Pat, Penguin, Poncho, Graphic, Anthony up the street, Backside Anthony - can't you do anything else? Kneeboarder Roy, George on Plastic, Bert, Hot Dog, DYSM, Novak, Shane and Co., Rich, Ralph, Mary, J-girl, international pros, local pros, surf school maggots - yes, there were a lot of people out at any given time. But, I did get some brotation sessions. As Ralph put it - don't get frustrated, it's like panning for gold. You don't find nuggets every day, but once in a while. That's what keeps you panning. I rode butterscotch Jr. three times during the swell flurry and got dings two out of three. Surf school idiot pitched his board at me while I was racing down the line, and an LB dropped in on me, slowed to a crawl, and I ran up his tail. Needless to say, my frustration was boiling over - hence the cool down from Ralph. I also spent time watching the rippers at El Anzuelo. La Bol Primera was going off and so were the boyz. Saw some unbelievable surfing. It was a great distraction from the beltway antics. I guess even the UK was getting uncomfortable with our "kill them all, let God sort them out" mideast policy. They instructed the U.S. not to use domestic airfields as part of our bomb re-supply to Israel. We could only use our own air bases. At least some of our "friends" feel guilty. Ted Rall finishes his opinion titled "Kill'Em All, Let God Sort it Out" with this passage: "If we want to rule the world, we can continue to murder the citizens of other countries with the cavalier attitude of a child squashing an insect. If we want to lead the world, we should ban the use of bombs, missiles, and other barbaric tools of indiscriminate terrorism against civilian populations, and urge other nations to do the same." I agree. Non-deliberate, incidental? Nonsense. Those F**ks know what they are doing - how do they sleep?  ¶ 9:44 PM 1 comments