Grandmas Gone Surfing

What Happened Next

2010-05-25T22:20:00.000-07:00

Right after the last post, exactly that day, life went into a tailspin from which I have not yet fully emerged. Loss, grief, regret, financial catastrophe and to top it all off a bad haircut. I think I aged two years in the past two months, which you really can't afford when you are my age. They've pretty much been wasted, terrible, horrible months, which have cost me dearly healthwise and lookswise.
That said, here is what I can remember of the past two months:
I did get powder. I got wonderful powder (the snow kind) both in my home state and in California. In fact, I skied after Easter and there was plenty of snow left. I remember the big snowstorm on my birthday, December 20, and how I hurried home so as not to miss it---if only I'd known how many more snowstorms there would be this winter!
The snow in NY was at least as good as the snow in Cali and much less expensive. The most fun run was the eponymous run at the NY State resort beginning with B. I just discovered it this year. Discover it for yourself.

I remember a moonlight surf one night, in the midst of all the strife. I got back home with only half an hour of daylight left and was dying to surf but wished there was more light. Well, not to worry, the full moon came up, and that combined with the light of the planes passing overhead was enough light to surf. And I was not the only fool out in the dark. One guy was left, having a blast and helping me find the best spot to catch waves. We surfed together---I have no idea who he was---for more than an hour in the dark.

Then there have been the early summer surfs, just a couple. Considering how bad a shape I am in I surfed amazingly well.I was astonished that I could do it at all. It makes me see how well I can surf when I am actually feeling, well, well.

I've got a loaner surfboard that is only 6 -10 and will be trying it out soon. Today the waves were just a little too big to be on an unfamiliar board. (Thanks, Miguel.)

Summer's started and I'm aware that the local surf clique sees blood in the water, bad haircut and all. Screw 'em. I live here and I surf here. So I've stopped putting on lipstick to go surfing, so I look like shit, so my toenails aren't polished. Those are the kinds of things that start gossip. Screw 'em. As I always say, I'm here to surf. Don't need Botox for that.

Why aren't we skiing?

2010-02-28T15:56:00.000-08:00

You might have heard about (or seen or experienced) the record snowfalls this winter both in the East and in the West. In fact, Hunter Mountain in upstate New York, a place I'm fond of, just received....guess what...SEVEN FEET of snow.

So why, on this nice Sunday afternoon, with so many local ski (and snowboard) hills bursting with record amounts of snowfall, were so many people out surfing? Why weren't we skiing?

Or, you may have been thinking, "Grandma, where is the annual ski blog you've had every year where you report about the great time you had on a ski trip? After all, it's almost March already!"

Grandma is in the same position of many other people right now, of having much less money than I did this time last year.

Planes, hotels, lift tickets, equipment...you know how much that can all add up to. And my credit card's maxed out. I may not get a ski trip.

But the ocean doesn't charge fifty to seventy dollars for admission, thank Neptune. And it doesn't cost me a cent in gas, or in plane, train, bus or even subway fare to get to it. It's free. Blissfully free.

And it was fun today, so much fun I forgot about the seven feet of snow fun I was missing out on.

And no lift lines! But, the equivalent: crowds!

Summer style crowds in February!

Winter surfing makes no sense anymore! What the hell is the point of freezing your ass (and your toes and your nose and all your other body parts) off if you have to deal with crowds, people getting in your way, people cutting you off?

There's no way to keep pretending my booties don't have holes in them. They do. But it's late in the season and I don't have money for new ones (see above), so my toes will have to freeze for a while longer.

But...I just went on the internet in search of mad cheap ski accommodations close to home, and may have come up with something. If I have, I'm there. I'll keep you posted.

Snowstorm surf

2010-02-25T16:22:00.000-08:00

I remember thinking back in December that it was an epic event to get a snowstorm in New York City. That day (it was my birthday) we got maybe a foot and a half. Since then we've gotten so much snow it's just silly. Several epic snowstorms.

And today another was forecast. I aimed to get out before the snow but missed. It was just raining earlier. I don't much like surfing in rain but was making an exception because there have been so few waves this winter. By the time I got out the rain had turned to snow. Not bad! Snow is softer and prettier, though a bit colder on the noise. And this wasn't a blizzard, just a nice light snowfall. Not so much you couldn't see.

The waves were pretty good and it was crowded as hell. I was not surfing well, making weird mistakes, falling off my board when I caught the wave, falling down as soon as I stood up. And, of course, watching other people get fun rides.

One of them was a woman I'd noticed parking her car on my street. I noticed her car because 1) it was a BMW 2) it was baby blue and 3) it had California license plates. What I'd give to have a baby blue BMW with California license plates! I'd consider sacrificing my firstborn. (Just kidding, son.)

I hadn't seen her before, I don't think. Had she driven from California to surf this snowstorm?

In the water she saw me struggling and helped me out. "You're catching all your waves, you're just standing up too late. Stand up right away."

See the posts of November 2009 for debate on this point of stand up late vs. stand up early.

Whatever---her advice worked, or maybe it was just the fact that someone noticed me, smiled and gave me advice---a placebo effect, if you will. I caught the next wave and rode it perfectly and everybody noticed. And she said, "Nice one!"

Thanks, California BMW girl!

The ocean can see really well today

2010-02-24T16:21:00.000-08:00

That sounds like the title of a Tom Waits song, doesn't it?

Here was my session today:

Head high waves. Getting out no picnic. Had to do back to back turtle dives which I HATE, no time to catch your breath, plus something weird was going on where the board slipped away from me on turtles which never happens. But it did today more than once.

On one wipeout where I either turtled or didn't, or maybe did too late, I forget, the wave knocked both of my contact lenses out. Both. That's a first.

I went home and managed to replace both of them one-handed---not easy!---because I didn't want to take both gloves off. Then I put the wet glove back on and went back out.

More strange wipeouts, more holddowns. I didn't get a single wave. All I was getting was wiped out. And in water this cold, that's brutal. There was no question about how tired I was going to be that night, and not from having fun, just from getting beat up.

And then a wave knocked the second set of contact lenses out. Both of them.

Well, that was it. No waiting for hypothermia striving to get at least one ride.

Session over, and if you find two sets of blue-green contacts in the water, they're mine.

wetsuit blues

2010-02-13T18:03:00.000-08:00

I am having trouble lasting more than an hour in this cold weather. I haven't had this trouble before and I wonder if it's my gear.

I read in some surf magazine "Wetsuits are so good now that if you get cold it's your own fault." Not true! It's not my fault! I am trying not to get cold!

I wonder if my 2-3 year old suits need to be replaced? They haven't got holes or rips, so why aren't they warm? I have two 6-4 O'Neills. My other O'Neills have lasted forever. But the 6-4s get far heavier use. Let's face it, we're in them six months of the year, which is why I have two. One's 2 years old and one's three. Is that too old? Do I need new ones?

It's the boots and gloves too. Do they just get too old? My fingers and toes get cold. OK, the gloves are quite old, maybe five years, but haven't seen heavy use. The boots are only one or two years old.

When do you need to replace your gear? Does it eventually just give up the ghost even if you can't see anything wrong with it?

Too easy

2010-02-12T17:51:00.000-08:00

Today in the midst of life, long phone calls, emails sent and replied to, bills paid, groceries bought, decisions mad and unmade, neighbors greeted, there were waves. Oh, they weren't predicted. They were called poor by Surfline. I couldn't even see them from my window, not until I went to the boardwalk, because of where they were breaking. And it happened late in the day, in the middle of everything.

And so I just accepted it and integrated them into my life.

This, after all (I had so forgotten this flat and despondent winter) is why I live here, after all.

Dropped everything, went. Thinking,

This is too easy. All I have to do is make sure I've got something in the house for dinner cause I'll be starving when I get out; throw on a suit; and go. Thinking too much about it would ruin it. Ten minutes from, should I go, to, Yes.

No one could do this if they have to drive or take a train to the beach. No one could just stop in the middle of whatever.

I considered that living 30 seconds from the beach really does make it too easy to surf, but after some contemplation, failed to find anything wrong with that. Anyway I was already halfway to the water as I contemplated. Is there such a thing as too easy?

Naaaaaaaah.

And even though the wind had west in it, I had some miracle waves. Two of the best ever, or at least in a long time. Waves where I was able to look back over my shoulder and adjust what I was doing to what I knew, from long experience, the wave would do, such as close out. Waves where I was able to do what I needed to do on each section, all the way in.

Unexpected. Easy. Wonderful.

20 degrees, 20 people

2010-02-07T20:37:00.000-08:00

This morning by 10 am there were at least 20 people out in the lineup.

It's February. It was 20 degrees.

We were all wave-starved, it was sunny, there was not much wind, there was a favorable Surfline forecast the night before that alerted the nonlocals, but still: 20 degrees.

I know I posted before about a 20 degree day that didn't faze me, but there's some kind of math that goes on between air and water temperatures that makes not all 20 degree days equal. Maybe it's air temp plus water temp plus wind speed. Does anyone have the equation?

Today the water was in the 30s. That's about as cold as it gets here. It was goddamn cold.

Yet I managed to stay out for over two hours, which is what I do in summer!

Why, you ask? Is it that I was having so much fun?

Hell, no! It's that I wasn't---and then I was like, I'm out here in frickin 20 degrees, I better be having fun! So I kept trying, but for at least half of the time I was really so cold it affected my surfing. The waves were a tad challenging, but not that big and not that hard. It was the freezing my ass off that threw me.

The more I froze, the more I kept trying to have fun. Finally, I had to say, This is not worth getting hypothermia.

Nothing that happened out in the water could compare to the bliss of a hot shower immediately followed by crawling naked into bed under a down comforter, nestling into pillows warmed by the bedroom radiator and the afternoon sun.

The coldest, grayest, loneliest surf ever

2010-02-05T21:28:00.000-08:00

And today, my very first day back surfing in New York, I essentially went from 78 degrees and sunny to 28 degrees and bleak.

I saw a little tiny wave in the morning from my window, in defiance of Surfline's purported flatness (hah!) and watched it build all day. One guy out. Two guys out. Would I go if it got big enough? Would I! It's been so, so long!

So I did some work and watched it, and when the tide got low I dropped the work and went.

Ah. I'd practically forgotten why I live at the beach. Now I remembered.

Yeah, I can still surf.

One guy went in shortly, and then the other. The sky was completely iron gray and so was the water. It was hard to tell the difference, hard to discern what was wave and what was sky. There was not the slightest hint of sun or warmth. Though there wasn't much wind, the water was freezing. Once I was alone in the water, it felt like the coldest, grayest, loneliest surf in recent memory, and probably in forever.

And yet, you know, it wasn't unfun for such a bleak day. I got some rides. I worked on getting up not too early and not too late. I succeeded. The rides weren't long, but they were rides. My thoughts were as melancholy as the day. I had music playing in my head, but I couldn't remember when or where I had heard it, and that was distressing. I couldn't figure it out. I got more rides. My fingers and toes began to freeze. I only lasted an hour and a half, very unusual for me. I think it was the gray lonely day that made me cold as much as the water.

The Texas paddleout

2010-01-23T19:51:00.000-08:00

Ah, the Texas paddleout. The one I once called "all paddle and no stoke" somewhere on this blog, long ago the last time I was in Texas. The one where the waves come at you from all directions and there are no lulls to speak of. The one that makes your arms sore the next day. Ah, the Texas paddleout. There is nothing to compare in New York, I don't think. We might have to make it past three waves to get out, max. In Texas it seems like it's about ten, it's such a long way out. And then you get pushed back and it's another ten.

It was choppy and sloppy today but sizeable and in Texas that's considered good surf. Truly I wasn't in the mood for a Texas paddleout and nearly turned back but I saw two shortboarders make it out without much difficulty and if they could, so could I!

And it wasn't really all that hard.

Once out, I caught my first wave and even though there wasn't much of a lineup---just the three of us---the shortboarder was directly in my path after I popped up perfectly and was riding down the line! I had to bail to avoid hitting him which was very disappointing. He'd seen me get the wave and knew I had nailed it so he was very apologetic. "That was a big wave too," he said. "Sorry."

No one in New York would apologize like that. It was great being admired for getting a ride on a big wave at a foreign break. It made me feel terrific. The shortboarders, a couple of young boys, continued to be friendly and even hooted for me when I made another wave. I didn't get the rides down correctly all the time but to be catching waves at a break I didn't know, on a rented board, and riding them at all, wow. Three years ago when I was at this break last I wasn't able to catch or ride anything.

I guess the waves were maybe shoulder high. It was a bit of a challenge to figure out where they were breaking but I did.

The sun even came out and the day warmed up like summer.

I got pushed back a few times and Texas-paddled-out again, but I must be stronger or something because it turns out my arms didn't hurt at all the next day.

It was just glorious to make it out when I doubted myself, make waves and have other people see him make them, have fun on a day that had started out cold and foggy and with me feeling like crap. I was able to just focus on the waves and then the next waves and that is a great thing to do when you feel crappy or stressed, it turns your mind right around. Surfing, bless its heart (despite what I've said elsewhere on this blog,) is just what it is and nothing else; it requires your full attention lest you should get smacked in the head. I didn't get smacked.

It's great to have that "Yes I can" competent feeling about surfing (especially when you don't feel competent about much else in life at the time) and to be seen as competent by others when the length of this blog attests to how difficult that has been.

I didn't even want to come out at all but eventually I was in dire need of lunch so I had to. I ate a whole pizza and spent the rest of the day lying on the beach and then in the hot tub watching a beautiful Texas sunset. Yeah, it was 78 degrees. In January. Sometimes surfing can really save your life.

More fun than it looked

2010-01-21T19:47:00.000-08:00

Today was hot and sunny down at my favorite Texas surf spot. Yeah, the same one I wrote about years ago. Good ol' Redneck Riviera. I am very fond of this spot and its generally crappy waves.
Today's looked like crap, but at 75 degrees, all waves look better. I waited a long time to go in thinking the waves might improve. They didn't. I finally went in anyway.

It's amazing how much more fun the waves were than they looked. Yeah, they were small and choppy and sloppy and once you caught one it fizzled out very quickly and didn't much go anywhere. But the fact that I was able to get any ride at all today impressed and cheered me. It wasn't great but it was so much better than I expected.

The visual

2010-01-19T21:23:00.000-08:00

Here it is, folks. The visual confirmation that I can actually surf. I don't know if these photos are in sequence. Nice or nasty comments on my stance, butt, etc., accepted.

These are from New Year's Day. There weren't waves again until Martin Luther King Day. What a tough wait that was! I was just delighted that I hadn't forgotten how to surf.

And when I see waves again, they won't be in New York, but hopefully there will be a surf trip post soon. Well, if there are any waves worth writing home about.

Composite makeup post

2010-01-07T20:16:00.000-08:00

Can it really be true that I posted nothing this December? Obviously it is. All I can say is that I have been overwhelmed with work, and a surf trip was cancelled. I had a deadline right after New Year's, and I was willing to give up some surfing to meet it, but honestly there weren't all that many surf days. It was either flat or huge or freezing cold or some combination of those. For a week or more I was too busy to even look out the window at the surf. And stressed. Majorly stressed.

So I will just note that I took advantage of every surf day I could, and that made me think about how much I missed surfing, and what lengths I will go to to get waves.

Am I addicted to surfing in the way some guys are? It can't be, because being an addict involves getting doses of adrenaline and all those chemicals that happen when you really surf in real waves, and I never get that. So what is it? I definitely don't feel right when I don't surf for a long time. What is it, exactly, that I'm missing? Gotta wonder about that...

Deprived of waves for three weeks, I ventured out in a blizzard, ignored the naysayers who jeered at me to "stay inside," and made it out and back in overhead waves safely and without fear. I didn't ride any, but I paddled for the smaller (head high) ones.

And then a Christmas Eve surprise of tiny little peelers with several people out. We surfed until the sun went down on the brilliant day. The water was surprisingly cold and I froze despite the sun and light winds but didn't want to go in. I surfed with a friend I hadn't seen in a while who just happened to be there. "Have you got hot chocolate at your house?" he asked as the sun got lower. I didn't, but I did have champagne and cookies, and we toasted the holiday.

Christmas morning was gray, sideshore, with just two boys out who had probably gotten their first boards for Christmas and were missing every wave. Later it got bigger and choppier. I got wet but no rides.

And then New Year's Day was beautiful and warmish, with a crowd. I went for the bigger waves and got them, and the photographer on the beach got a photo of me riding a wave more than ankle high, a first in my life! It was at least four feet. Similarly, the young woman on the blue and green striped board, a novice who I'd watched for a while, got a nearly head high ride and her astonishment and pride was in her posture and her face and the way she ran up to the photographer afterward to make sure he'd gotten the pic!

I think he later lost the pictures of both of us! Because I haven't received mine.

Trust me: There does, did, exist a picture of me really looking like a surfer. Once, on New Year's Day 2010.

Thanks for the waves

2009-11-26T17:47:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving morning, you don't need a brain to know the water's going to be crowded. Especially if it's 55 degrees and the waves are good. And they were.

Just as I got out the sun appeared, casting that light over the water that you only get in the morning, and painting the water such a beautiful blue-gray.

I didn't feel like going for the jetty today, not just because the waves were so good I didn't really need to, but because of what I saw. The jocks were all piled on top of each other and going four or five at once for the same wave. Not just going for them figuring the others wouldn't make it, but they went knowing pretty damn well they were all going to make it and meaning to surf it together. I mean, they were literally surfing on top of each other. In typical surf jock fashion they hooted and hollered happily (a couple who rode in literally rail to rail jumped off their boards smiling and yelling "Happy Thanksgiving!" to each other) even though they were inches away from dying or being seriously injured. I have to think that these guys all knew each other and knew their skill levels---I mean, I have to think that, if only because as far as I know no one got killed today! It surely does take a high level of skill to take off right next to someone and not hit/get hit by them. I did not belong among that crowd today.

When I was at the jetty last time I remember a guy yelling me off a wave when I was a safe distance away from him. Yeah, we were on the same wave but we weren't even gonna come close to hitting each other, even at my skill level. And then when I see what I saw today, I know I wasn't breaching any written or unwritten rule of surf etiquette or doing anything others don't do; he was just yelling at me because he didn't know me and didn't want me near him on "his" wave. Or maybe because I'm a woman. Who knows.

I did do some early popups again today and fall off when trying to make the drop. I saw D. in the water and asked him about what Always Smiling Asian Guy said. Should I stand up at the top of the wave of the bottom? D. said "It depends" which seemed like a good answer. He said, not too soon but not too late. Not at the bottom but not at the top. Yeah. That makes sense.

So, I worked on not getting up too early, and on really thinking about and trying to remember what I do after the popup, which as D. always says is the important thing.

When I got out of the water I got compliments from my other former surf coach (now I can't remember what initial I gave him if any, but it doesn't matter) and another veteran surfer about my progress. People are noticing that I'm getting good.

About these crowds...

2009-11-25T17:20:00.000-08:00

With the warm weather and good waves we're having in November, the crowds continue. Today was another packed day. On a Wednesday morning! And just because I can handle a crowd doesn't mean I necessarily always want to, you know?

Although today was convivial enough. It saw the return of the person I'm going to start calling "Always Smiling Asian Guy." He's always stoked, smiling, hooting for people. He started off a conversation right away. And he offered some friendly advice. He saw me fall backwards off my board and told me I am popping up too soon.

Now, after all these years of not being able to pop up at all (as you can see by the length of this blog) it's hard to conceive that I might possibly be popping up too soon. Well, but I am up before the drop, and that's when I tend to lose my balance.

Is he right, that you are supposed to wait to pop up until after the drop? But that's clearly not what I see people doing, and I was taught that you don't do that because popping up is so much harder when you're at the bottom of a wave, not the top.

This may be an insignificant distinction when we're talking about one or two foot waves, but when they're four or five, yeah, there's a big difference between top and bottom, and it matters.

Whatever the reason, I wasn't getting good rides. I moved farther down the line to get away from the crowds to ponder the question of when to pop up, and worked on it a little without people in my way. I did better down there maybe because of less worry about hitting or being hit by somebody in front of or behind me. In fact, I got several really good, long rides. A gray morning turned into a fun day.

With the jetty jocks

2009-11-17T16:54:00.000-08:00

Today didn't look as big as yesterday at first. In fact when I first checked the waves I was disappointed. I almost thought it was too small. But it was actually as big as yesterday, and conditions were choppier, just to add some challenge.

Plus, as usual after a good day and when waves have been forecast to be better than they are, it was crowded. But I was feeling confident enough to paddle out to the main spot by the jetty, which, as I've said, is traditionally where the best surfers are (AKA jetty jocks, as least when they're male). I've been able to handle myself there well on the 2 foot days, but today was taking it up a notch.

And I proved myself able to handle the four footers as well. Yeah, I had to pull off some waves, and I didn't go on the biggest ones. But as I was out there I realized I was confident in my ability to handle a crowd in waves of this size. It wasn't scary, and there were no collisions or close calls. I got my share of waves (not by taking off on the same wave with others, as the jocks do, but by waiting til no one else was going, usually after they'd all been taken in by a set).

It was a good feeling to realize I've gotten to this point where I am able to hold my own at the jetty. That said, I didn't get any great rides. In fact, once I got up I either fell or didn't really go anywhere. I think I fell because on the bigger waves I instinctively lean back, and then of course I fall backwards off the board. I gotta work on leaning forward on the bigger faster ones. Either that, or I am getting up too quickly.

(in)decision

2009-11-15T15:40:00.000-08:00

Today the forecast was for five to seven foot waves, and it was accurate. That's overhead to most people. But the conditions were about as good as they can be: favorable wind, sun, warm temperatures. Oh, and crowds.

Did I go, or did I not go?

Well. Two days ago, a surfer died at our beach. Right out in front of my window. Perhaps even while I was looking out the window. No, I didn't see it. That day I didn't go out, just because I wasn't feeling it, I was busy, I wasn't sure whether the waves were really manageable. They were, only five to six feet. It wasn't a big day. But this surfer got his leash tied around the wooden sticks which make our beach so hazardous, just as I did and wrote about a little while ago. I finally managed to get my leash off but it wasn't easy and it was terrifying being tethered there as the waves came in. And that day wasn't as big as today. Anyway, he was an inexperienced surfer and couldn't get the leash off, and by the time help arrived, it was too late. This could even have happened to an experienced surfer, though. It could have happened to anyone.

News traveled fast. The next day, though there were large and makeable waves, no one was out. Absolutely no one. A 36 year old man, healthy and fit, dead.

Today, the crowds were back. But people were thinking about the drowning, I am sure.

Not very long ago, there would have been no question or doubt about going out on a 5 to 7 day. I would never have considered it. But now (after all these years) 5 feet doesn't seem so bad, seems manageable and not scary. And I could dodge the bigger waves. And the conditions would never be better, if I wanted to challenge myself.

But my teeth still hurt, the worst surfing injury I've ever had (still don't know how that will end up, if I need surgery). I didn't want to get hurt again.

Yes, no, yes, no. I went to the boardwalk and watched for a while. I ended up watching for as long as I could have been surfing---dontcha hate it when that happens? It's like, if you're going to spend the time, you might as well spend it surfing.

But I was watching and learning. I was watching the surfers the way you do when you feel everything they're feeling as if it's happening in your own body. I was imagining what it would be like to be out there.

Others were doing the same. I saw a young woman stroll up with a shortboard, all ready to go. The look on her face when she saw the waves said everything. She was having doubts. She didn't look happy. She stood for a while, watching, exactly as I was. I am quite sure we were thinking the same thing: so crowded. It's bad to be in a crowd on a big day if you're a bit unsure of ourselves. I almost said something about the crowd, but didn't. The reason I think she was thinking along those lines was that she finally walked down to the end up the lineup, where waves were not as good but it was far less crowded. I'd have done the same. I watched her for a while, and watched a guy with a blue longboard. I watched him get out, much as I would. It took a while, but he made it. If he made it, I could make it. I didn't know whether I was glad or disappointed that he made it. If he hadn't made it, it would serve as justification for my decision not to go, if I didn't. Everything I saw was getting processed (I told myself) and ultimately I would make a decision.

I saw the shortboard girl come in after only about ten minutes, and she took her leash off, so I thought she was deciding to come in because it was too big. But then I lost sight of her, so I don't know if she did.

All along the boardwalk surfers were making calculations. Are you going in? Yeah, considering it. Did you paddle out? How was it?

I think I was deeply influenced by overhearing two of those I consider the best women surfers at our beach say, No, they weren't going out today. Too big for me, one said. She's much much better than I am. I just want to have a nice relaxing day, not get worked, said the other. She's even more better than me.

By anyone's calculations many if not most of the waves were overhead. I could have handled the smaller ones. Getting out would have been a bitch but I would have made it.

In the end I made a (in)decision not to go. I'd spent an hour and a half hanging out. I had work to do and a date with a friend later.

I'd just experienced, in my mind, every aspect of today's potential surf experience, from the getting hammered getting out to the trying to pick manageable waves to going over the falls to spending 15 minutes getting back out to pushing myself to try harder to wiping out again to maybe getting up on a smaller wave and struggling out again to the blessed delicious satisfied feeling of exhaustion I'd have by nine o'clock that night after such a session and the marvelous feeling of accomplishment I'd get for trying on the biggest day of my life so far. And I just did not feel like doing it.

But next time I will go.

The next day the waves were 4 to 5, and what a difference it makes to know you can handle the biggest waves, not just the smallest ones. There was no fear or indecision. I went for the bigger waves. I got compliments on my surfing. I made all my drops and got up on every wave; it might have been downhill from there, but at least I got that part right on bigger waves, which is a major accomplishment for me.

When Surfline says "good" and means it

2009-11-04T22:12:00.000-08:00

Today was that rarest of occurences: Surfline actually rated our waves as Good. We almost never get Good. The best we usually get is Fair. And the occasions when it's good are usually over 6 feet, limiting the crowd to experts.

Today was both Good and 4 feet.

The result was that this midmorning November Wednesday was soon as crowded as a summer weekend. I mean bumper to bumper. I mean a board every two feet. I mean people sitting not only on either side of you but inside in front of you.

I could have gone down the beach a ways from the main peak where it would, eventually, get less crowded. But I decided not to. I decided to join the fray.

I've done that enjoyably on small days. Today wasn't completely small; there were some head high sets coming in. But by now I'm good enough at surfing, and surfing in crowds, that this didn't faze me. I can turn, I can (mostly) get out of people's ways just as well as they can out of mine.

So I decided to make the crowd part of the challenge and the fun. It wouldn't have worked if the waves were any bigger, but it worked.

I got waves, I got up and riding, more than most people I saw; and I was having fun. Now, were there waves I would have gone for, but for someone else going for them? Absolutely. Were there waves I missed, having to pull off, that I would have gotten and enjoyed were it less crowded? Yes.

Were there waves I got that no one else got? Yes. That was mostly by going for the smaller ones. That was my tactic; I might have gotten smaller waves, but I got more waves.

I would have been fine on the bigger ones, if there hadn't been so many other people out. After a while I started wishing I could have gone on the bigger ones, but not so much that I was willing to try it.

I was where the very best surfers were, the ones who sense a big set coming before you can even see it and start maneuvering. They didn't bother even paddling for the smaller waves I went for. But when I saw them paddling out and around me, I knew they saw what they had been waiting for. And I could have paddled into position as well, and tried for them, but these were the guys who catch what they paddle for, and they know how to position themselves and would have been flying down the line by the time I got up. Damn. I've got to become one of these guys. Or women. One of them is a woman and she was having a fine flying time on head high sets.

I enjoyed myself immensely today and congratulated myself on the challenge of holding my own and getting my waves in the crowd. It actually did turn out to be part of the fun.

And then just as I was getting a bit overconfident, and trying for some waves that were a bit bigger...

On a silly wipeout where I didn't get the wave for I know not what reason, I came up and the board somehow smacked me hard in the jaw.

It's the noise that's so unnerving, the noise your board makes when it hits you in the head or the jaw, isn't it? The noise is almost worse than the impact. And once you hear that noise, what's the first thing you do? Check for blood, that's what.

There was blood. It was from my teeth being driven into my tongue. The session was over. It had been two great hours. A "good" day indeed.

But I checked that my teeth were still in my mouth, and the blood wasn't a lot, so I decided I would be OK. Well, I'm not. The pain subsided some but my teeth hurt so much from the board slamming against them I can't eat. Turns out my teeth have small fractures, there may be nerve damage, and I'm told if I don't get better in a week I will need root canal on my front four bottom teeth.

It's just bad luck, that's all, I can't blame the crowds or anybody else. I haven't had any surf mishaps in well over a year, maybe more, and these things happen to everybody.

"How was it?"

2009-11-03T22:10:00.001-08:00

Didja ever ask that question to someone coming out of the water as you're getting in? Do you? And if so why and how do you use that information?

I usually ask whenever and whomever I can, but then it's difficult to judge how much weight to give to their response. It adds to what you already know from your visual impressions, info about wind direction, etc. Does it make the difference between a go and a no go? After all, that person is a random surfer, not you; may be a better or much worse surfer, and so the reasons why "it" was good or not may have more to do with him than you.

Today I had a feeling that things would not work out so well (saw whitecaps from my window, the wind was west) but it was a sunny warm day and I haven't surfed in forever (I just came back from Omaha for crap's sake) and I just wanted to go. So I put my suit on and on the way to the waves met a random surfer and asked the question.

His response: Not too good.

I decided to disregard that and think for myself.

Turns out, he was right.

The waves were sideshore and doubling up and few were catching them even though a lot of us were in the water.

It was a one-wave day for me; the kind where you are lucky to get one good ride and when you do, you might as well go in.

Shoulda listened to the guy.

Schadenfreude

2009-10-26T21:52:00.000-07:00

I've been accused somewhere on this blog of Schadenfreude, that is, taking pleasure in the misfortunes of others. I don't see it that way.

Consider how many years I've had this blog, and correspondingly how long it has taken me to get to the point of any semblance of surfing, let alone proficiency, and how difficult it has been. Even if I did engage in some Schadenfreude, I could be forgiven.

So, on a day like today, a challenging closeout day, when I was at first the only one out, then was joined by two others, and when I was the only one getting up and getting rides at all (albeit not very long ones) and they weren't, it is certainly understandable that I would feel proud of myself and that in some way that feeling of pride depends on their not getting rides.

In other words, after having been the worst surfer every time out, for years, let me enjoy being the best whenever I can.

I did it this time

2009-10-25T21:44:00.000-07:00

Today was another bigger wave day, five feet, and I made it my goal not to hang back but to take off later.

I did it. And it wasn't so bad. At first I got worked. Then I got up to my feet. Then I got a ride.

It wasn't perfect, but at least I learned something. As I thought, the only cure for being scared and taking off too early is (being scared and) taking off later and taking the consequences.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

2009-10-19T20:14:00.000-07:00

Today was about as good as a session gets.

The sun was out. The wind was calm and it was warm. No one needed a hood.

Miracle of miracles, no wind in the afternoon. I got out late, after having an unusually good day so far. I timed it right.

The waves were little.

Crowd was small and friendly.

I got lots of rides. People hooted. Even though it wasn't challenging, I felt like I was actually learning some skills. Like, I could feel the rails grabbing the waves. I could feel myself controlling them. I knew where they were. Usually I don't think about such things. I thought, inside rail, outside rail, and knew what I was doing with them.

I was able to get up low and stay low, something that's usually difficult for me, but it makes a big difference when waves are small.

I got that feeling I've talked about before, when time seems to be suspended, at least for a couple of seconds. When that happens me and the wave are perfectly in synch.

I was actually smiling at strangers and they were smiling back. No gray faces today, only sunny ones.

To finish it off, there was a gorgeous sunset. It was my first sunset session in many many months. There is nothing so good as watching the sun set from the water, unless it's watching it after a spectacular session. I stayed out as long as I could still see.

Perfect day, perfect surf, perfect sunset, a man waiting at home to make me dinner, perfect night. The kind of day that gives you the strength to go on.

Actually, there's no secret to what causes such a good surf session. And I'm sure most of you know this. It's not the sun or the waves or the wind or the tide (not only). It's whether you had sex before your session. There is a 100% correlation between sex and good surfing. I have never known an exception. But that's no secret, right, people?

Not Enough Balls in the Water

2009-10-18T19:48:00.000-07:00

Has it really been a month since I posted? Sorry about that. There have been some more small wave sessions I didn't write about. I've travelled, been busy.

And today I was woken up by waves.

They weren't small. The wave report said up to one foot overhead. That was an exaggeration, but they were a good five feet. OK, I'm not scared of that anymore. And the wind was in the right direction, which should have made things easier.

But the wind was blowing 25 kts, which is, I don't know what in MPH, but a lot. That changes everything.

I went out in my spiffy new 4/3 wetsuit for the first time, and was warm enough (though I cannot agree that zipless suits are warmer than zippered, and are much harder to get out of). But I didn't put on the hood, and the wind was enough to freeze my ears. The day was gray, the faces of the surfers were gray. Not much smiling or talking.

Because of the wind the waves were breaking hard and steep---you know, when they send up that much spray, it's not going to be easy.

I kept hanging back because of I was afraid of the steep drop (not the size so much) and as a result guess what---I missed just about every wave. One I wasn't early for I got worked on, but not so badly. Yet I still just kept hanging back.

Late in the session I saw D., Master Surfer, who told me: Take Off Late, As Late As Possible. And proved it by getting a nice, long, fast ride. He was right, of course. Yet I couldn't work up the nerve.

I know the only cure for taking off too early is to take off late and take the consequences. Chances are they won't be as bad as I think. Once I learn that, I will be fine. And I don't know why I couldn't do that today. It makes absolutely so sense to come out on a freezing, howling wind, rainy day---and then just sit in the water getting nothing. It takes balls (or should I say ovaries) to come out on a day like that but it takes more balls to make coming out worth it. I didn't have mine in working order today.

All I can say is, I wasn't the only wuss in the water. The great majority of my fellow surfers (except for D.) weren't catching any waves either. I guess we all lacked ovaries.

Well, partly that, and partly the wind jacking up the waves making it really challenging for most people. I heard later that even those who consider themselves macho men were wiping out.

Vignettes from the last small wave days of summer

2009-09-21T19:57:00.000-07:00

Today's the first day of autumn, or last day of summer, I forget which. Either way, I've closed all the windows in my apartment, because it's getting chilly at night. I'm very aware of the close of the season, and am treasuring the last warm sunny days. Which, typical of summer, have had the tiniest waves; but have been great fun. After all, when the waves are so small, the surfers are crap, and I get to be the best one out.

They blur together. The early morning session where I saw a guy who had dumped me in a most ungentlemanly way (who is normally an excellent surfer) and surfed way, way better than him, getting wave after wave, til he skunked off in defeat. A very congenial session with delightful one-foot waves and north wind, where everybody spoke to everybody and shared party waves. Today's session was largely silent but friendly, and gorgeous. There were only two of us; I had picked my spot and he picked his; and halfway through he moved over to mine because I'd judged the waves better and was getting rides where he was not. Also very satisfying because usually I'm assuming everyone else knows more than I do about surfing, that they're right and I'm wrong, and that is no longer always true. I had a great time today, getting most of my drops perfect.

And yesterday...guess what, I ran into Barney again for the first time in over a year! Wow, the last time I can easily find when I wrote about him is exactly three years ago, on Sept. 18, 2006! I was unabashedly delighted to see him. He is still exactly the same, a big overgrown nerd even older than me, with a silly grin and a silly hat. I thought he'd given up surfing but he's still delighting in trying to learn at fifty-something. I didn't care that everyone else was giving him stinkeye, we greeted each other like old friends and as if a year or so hadn't passed. He's not much better at surfing and maybe never will be; but he did stand up and get rides. It just takes him centuries to get up, like it used to take me, but he clearly doesn't mind. (I was very conscious and proud of snapping up today and practiced doing it earlier than usual, even too early in some cases.) He's still got the same crappy board (people make fun of it behind his back) and just seems happy as pie to have it. It's very comforting that in a world of change and strife Barney is still the same. He seems not to have aged at all and hasn't lost either his kookiness or his enthusiasm.

Oh, one small thing. Apparently I almost died today. I wiped out, did an underwater somersault and lost my board. An eyewitness said the board shot straight up into the air and came straight back down about an inch from my head. He was having visions of blood and emergency rooms, and then I rose up smiling. I didn't know I was an inch away from death until he told me, and then I'd rather have not known. Just a reminder that death is always a possibility in the midst of life, especially when you least expect it.

Back to the small waves

2009-08-31T19:52:00.000-07:00

Today I got up at a record hour, thinking the wind would be north (it was) and the waves would be the perfect size for me. Actually, the wind held all day, so I needn't have bothered going to bed so early, but the waves were the size I anticipated, about two and a half feet.

I was out in a crowd at the jetty and held my own, getting my share of waves and rides. I did better, I noted, than some of the guys who think they're hot shit but seemed to have lost it, at least for today. You know who you are.

But enough about them. It was fun, a good day for me by any measure.

And yet:

I kept thinking about yesterday and how different it was and how, in some ways, it was more fun or different, maybe better fun.

Because at least I was totally focused on surfing. I wasn't thinking about whether I should do my laundry later on or not. My mind did not wander to think about various problems in my life. There weren't lulls, there wasn't time, I had to stay alert. I didn't even listen to music, which I usually do when I'm surfing. And though I had fun today, it was pretty predictable, not challenging fun.

In which I take off on the biggest wave of my life---and...

2009-08-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

A day after the humongous waves of Hurricane Danny, I expected things to have quieted down a lot, but they really haven't. There are still some five to six foot waves out there, I judge by watching people ride them. But I decide to go in anyway.

Getting out isn't easy. After 15-20 minutes of trying and getting pushed back, in full view of the boardwalk peanut gallery of course, I decide to try going out by the jetty, as D. taught me long ago. (I consider the surfer's maxim, If you have this much trouble making it out you shouldn't be out, but I reject that idea.) I pick a guy with a board the same size as mine, a guy I am sure knows what he is doing, and decide to just do what he does. Mostly what he does is wait for a lull, same as everyone else. (Same as J., an arrogant King-of-the-Beach type shortboarder---I note with satisfaction that he has to wait just like the rest of us.) Finally there is a lull, the guy jumps on his board---but I am several yards behind him and not as fast and don't quite make it like he does. Well, then I see another longboard guy and follow that one. Basically, I start paddling when everyone else does---duh, when we all see the lull. And I make it.

Once out, I move over where the less experienced surfers are, and wait for a suitable wave. There aren't really any small ones coming through, so if I don't go for a big one, I won't get anything. One comes by that I'm in position for, I paddle.

Whoa! What is this thing I have never experienced before---a big drop at about a 45 degree angle! I mean, we talk about making the drop on the small waves I am so used to, but it's hardly a drop, you never even notice it. This; this is a real drop. I have caught the wave perfectly and I know it but then I'm faced with that slide down the slope and it scares me. It scares me enough that I don't try to get up. I think my nose is going to go down and I focus on just holding on to my board. Then, of course, my nose goes down, and I'm tumbled. Also held down a second longer than I'm used to, not a big deal, but I note it.

I think that if I had stood up right away I would have been OK. If I had treated that five to six foot wave as a three footer, I would have made it. Really, it's the same thing (only much steeper).

I am cheered by the fact that I tried and made the wave. I am pushing my limits today, and it feels fine, really.

I didn't come all the way out here not to try for a wave.

The next wave I get, I actually get to my feet, but then fall immediately. I am cheered to have gotten to my feet, to have made progress from getting out to taking off to getting up, however briefly.

Once I'm in, it seems like an hour has passed, but an hour that equals two hours on easy waves. Two waves, two slightly long holdowns, not counting the scratch on my face from where my board hit me on the way out which I don't even notice til someone says later, Your face is bleeding. (Only a tiny bit.) Six foot waves. Even five is great for me.

I decide to rest while I debate going out again. But I don't. I am intact and stoked, and that feels good to me. It was all more challenging than scary.

Later, I realize it was strangely fun. Not the fun of riding a wave fun, but the fun of trying something hard and proving to yourself you can do it (or will someday soon) fun. The fun of not getting killed.

And something else. I think of the phrase "adrenaline junkie." Not that I am one, but a lot of surfers are, or at least I've heard that phrase used to describe why people surf. On two foot waves, it's pretty hard to experience a rush of adrenaline, no matter how fun they are. Maybe adrenaline is several parts fear, several parts risk, combined into a relief cocktail at the end (if you survive). Well, I got the fear and risk part today (if not the riding the wave part). And it is a whole different experience than my usual surf session. I could maybe start to like it.

Big wave day (for me)

2009-08-23T19:14:00.000-07:00

Today, one day post-the-first-hurricane-wave-day-of-the-season, I saw my former friend on the boardwalk, the one who's only been surfing a couple of years but we're at the same level, and she said the waves were too big for her. From the boardwalk, they looked about five feet at most.

Usually, if they're too big for her, it's a pretty sure thing they're too big for me. Usually, I'd have turned around and gone in. But I didn't.

I went out, and my very first wave I caught and rode! It surprised the hell out of me, but I remember being so pleased and thinking, Oh, I've made so much progress that these waves no longer seem big. Because they didn't. I also enjoyed the greater power of the bigger wave.

So I got a lot more, and was really comfortable and confident. It's the first time I've felt that way in such big (for me) waves. All in all a hellaciously fun day.

Shortboard ride!

2009-08-17T19:42:00.001-07:00

Finally, it's 90 degrees and feels like summer...finally. I am really trying to enjoy it. Long story short, this summer has just been unbearably stressful, full of dead ends, disappointment, and frustration (at least out of the water). To give you just one example, everything I own and rely on is now broken and nonfunctional: my computer, my printer, my backup computer, my stereo, my television, my DVD player, and my car. What are the odds of all these things breaking down at once? All needing replacement or major work and major $$$$? Oh yeah, and my shoulder. It needs major surgery to fix the pain I've had for nine months now.

What a difference from last summer, if you read a back a year. I can't imagine ever being that happy again. I can't see how I'll ever dig out of the current roadblock.

But enough of that. Because this is really a happy post. Yes.

Today I got my first ride on a shortboard!

It's not mine, I borrowed it. I think it's 6-2. The waves were choppy small crap. I haven't surfed for nearly two weeks. I was at the point of "just wanting to go in the water," really missing surfing, but also wondering (now that I know what's wrong with my shoulder) if it was worth paddling for virtually nothing.

I hadn't even brought my board to the beach, that's how flat it's been. My friend's board was there. I thought, what the hell. I expected nothing. I went in on a shortboard. It's only the second time I've ever tried one.

Well, it wasn't so hard to balance and paddle, and it wasn't so hard to catch the little sections of the knee high waves. I could catch a bunch. The problem, as I discovered the first time I tried a shortboard, is standing up. I already know it has to be fast, way faster than on a longboard. Today I also figured out that I need to catch the waves (at least these waves) way later than on a longboard.

There really is no time on a shortboard to think whether you have a stable platform for standing up; you just have to do it, I think, and take your chances.

Most of the times that I did that, I fell immediately. But at least I was getting to my feet, which exceeded my expectations for the session. I also realized that there really is great value and pleasure in "just getting in the water" on a board when you haven't been in for weeks, and it's 90 degrees and sunny. I was surprised at how much I was enjoying myself on shitty waves without getting rides.

Then somehow I got up and got one.

It didn't last long, but then no one was getting long rides today. I was on my feet, on a shortboard, and I went somewhere without falling.

My second time.

Wow, maybe some of the hardwon skills I've gotten on the longboard really do transfer. Wouldn't that be fun.

It's amazing how light the little board feels, how free I feel using it, how I am not afraid of getting clunked on the head with it (although of course I still could). It feels like nothing at all between me and the waves. I think I could really start to like it.

Great crowd session

2009-08-01T21:45:00.000-07:00

This morning I had my best summer crowd session ever.

What a day, after what has seemed like endless rain: blue sky, sunshine, hot, offshore wind.

2 foot waves, and I had fun despite the fact that there were probably 50 people in the water. In fact, I was one of the few people actually catching waves and riding, and when I realized that, my confidence just grew.

Generally I hate summer weekend sessions because of the crowded lineup. But today, I was over at the second peak as usual (the first reserved for experts, locals, or both) and surrounded by weekend and beginner surfers who didn't know what they were doing. So I didn't worry about people taking my waves, because they didn't know how; I just went for as many waves as I could.

And I was up and riding, as long as possible anyway on the small closeout waves. It felt good to be the star surfer. It also felt good to be out surrounded by female surfers and I felt like calling out "Girl Wave!" as we all went on the same one. (We actually didn't, but the girls were definitely the best surfers out today.)

No longer a kook

2009-07-28T18:07:00.000-07:00

Update after six years of surfing:

I saw my former friend, always expert surfer, and sometime surf coach W. on the beach today, and he declared that I am officially no longer a kook.

Coming from him, that's high praise.

"You know what you're doing. There's lots of people way kookier than you."

I have been upgraded to make room for the next generation of kooks.

D. said that the next step up from Kook is Gremmie, so that's my new status. Just call me Grandma Gremmie.

Recalibrating the aggresso-meter

2009-07-22T19:08:00.000-07:00

Just because you live on the beach doesn't mean you don't need to get away sometimes! To another beach, of course...

I was in need of some mothering, the reason for the roadtrip mentioned in my previous post, an eight hour trip. I was headed to visit my friend who lives on the shore of Lake Ontario. Talk about one cool grandma...(after all I'm not really a grandma yet and she is)...I will write about her sometime, she's a true inspiration and role model for any middle-aged woman who isn't sure how to handle getting old.

So I hung out in her teeny town which is as far north as you can go before getting to Canada, and swam in Lake Ontario, where I had the whole damn lake to myself (as least as far as I could see).

And then I got back to my beach (there really isn't anything deserving of the name beach on Lake Ontario, a sad disappointment) and, more importantly, to the water. And it was crowded. Packed.

It wasn't easy to recalibrate from the solitude of Lake Ontario to the packed lineup. In fact I wasn't sure I even wanted to.

There seemed to be a lot of aggression going on in the water today; either there was more than usual or I was more sensitive to it than usual because of having been away. Most of the people out were men and the water was seething with testosterone. Did I mention I'd spent the past week entirely in female company?

The waves weren't big or beyond my ability and I had to give myself a stiff talking to, about how I needed to recalibrate my aggresso-meter now that I was back in the city if I wanted to get any waves. It's hard to be aggressive when you're wearing a bikini and worrying about various things hanging out. Know what I mean? I've seen some things hanging out that I never wanted to see and hope never to see again, and it ain't pretty. Like how do you tell a female friend that her tampon string is hanging out and how do you ever look at her again without seeing that image? But enough said.

I was feeling so intimidated that when I saw a friendly female surfer paddle out I nearly said something like, "Watch out, there's a lot of testosterone out here."

But then I watched her paddle out right into the thick of the lineup, tiny string bikini and all, take her place amidst the boys and surf just as aggressively (or perhaps I should say confidently) as any of them, get wave after wave and just kill it. (And nothing hung out.)

Let's hear it for estrogen. After that my aggresso-meter was successfully recalibrated, I stopped thinking silly things about women not being as aggressive as men, and I did fine.

God Bless GPS: Or, The OTHER great summer pleasure

2009-07-18T18:29:00.000-07:00

I am not surfing this weekend, though it's midsummer and midsummer surfing is one of life's great pleasures. But summer is brief and it's time to discover the OTHER great summer pleasure: the roadtrip. Yeah!

If there's anything better than setting off on a roadtrip, it's setting off on a roadtrip with GPS. I truly think this is one of the greatest inventions in the history of humankind. You can now truly go anywhere without planning in advance and can never get lost (for very long). Roadtrip perfected.

I like going places, but I just like driving in and of itself. Of course, the essential ingredient of a great summer drive is the soundtrack. And some of life's best moments are when road and music coalesce into an experience which transcends either of them by themselves. Great drives stay with you forever and are to be treasured. I've had quite a few and a couple already this summer.

Like the late-night, exhausted-from-sun-and-surfing drive from Santa Cruz to a little town I'd never heard of just outside of it, though a forest or what looked like one by the light of the moon, on a thrilingly winding and deserted road, the air cool and fragrant, listening to a CD I was hearing for the first time: Music for Drella by John Cale. Yeah, an old one but new to me, and with the pine trees and the moon it absolutely blew me away, it was so suited to the night and the whole day that had passed before it. I was going there to either sleep with or not sleep with a man who lived over a bar in this little town. The bar was something out of the 1950s movie and as far from hipster Santa Cruz as could be and I fell in love with it immediately. I ended up not sleeping with the man who lived above the bar with his dog and think it was the right decision even though I had and have decided for all practical purposes that at my age the word "No" should have no part in my vocabulary. And I will never say it again.

Or the drive this week that took me straight through a hailstorm so fierce that I had to pull off the road while hailstones exploded my car with such intensity and such noise that I feared they'd shatter the windshield; it was kind of like being inside an MRI magnified by a thousand and by fear. The rain came down in sheets and made me feel like the car was sliding away while it was parked and I could see nothing but slippery whiteness outside. And then it stopped and the sun came out and I started to drive again, looking for a rainbow and finding one, which makes any drive special. And the sky took on the hue that only comes after a violent storm, and the grass turned that extraterrestrial green of full summer, and there was haze on the river that ran alongside the road, and I said: I must remember this light, these colors, because it was like seeing a painting. And I had just gotten a Nina Simone CD and was listening to it, and it was a compilation of songs that had been recorded over many years but were all new to me, and one in particular I liked so much I played eight times in a row, because it was the perfect music for a day that had been pelted by a storm and washed clean and pure; nothing suited it like that voice. And I was glad to be on the road, many hours away from the ocean, headed in fact for Lake Ontario where there are no waves.

You Know It's Summer When...

2009-07-08T18:58:00.000-07:00

It's the middle of the week, middle of the day, waves are teeny-tiny, and there's still fifteen people out.

But what a gorgeous day. There hasn't been a nice, mellow, sunny day like this in forever. At least it seems like I've been waiting for it all year; I have. The kind of day when the water's just the right temperature in relation to the air, and you don't want to get out of the water, and then you don't want to get off the beach.

With all the rain we've had, it's the first great summer weekday. And everyone who knows, knows weekdays are the best.

P.S. There is the most beautiful full moon out tonight over the water. It's light enough to surf by, if you wanted to.

Applause!

2009-06-28T17:48:00.000-07:00

This morning, wonderful things happened:

I went surfing the first time this year without a wetsuit, woo-hoo!

Perhaps as a result of shedding the suit, I surfed great.

I caught waves perfectly. One was so perfect, and lasted so long, and was so well executed, that one of the locals (a friend, all around good guy, and experienced surfer) hooted for me as I exited the wave. He's seen and heard my struggles to learn for years.

"You're really getting good," he said.

"Nice drops."

Two words I thought I'd never hear applied to me!

S.I.F.A.

2009-06-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

Back at home, what a relief. Surfing Is Fun Again.

I had a really good day today (thanks to the good waves). Lots of rides without effort, and that feeling of time standing still.

California coastline

2009-06-15T19:59:00.000-07:00

Just looking at the waves at Ocean Beach today made my bones hurt.

They weren't measurably worse than yesterday's, perhaps, but now it was a grey cool day with nobody out and that made them look worse.

Plus I was plain worn out by so much surfing.

So I decided to take a drive down the Coast. I'm glad I did. The scenery was gorgeous. My goal was to find the Rockaway Beach in California, and I sort of did, it's hard to tell---I didn't see the sign. Well, I drove by it anyway. Linda Mar was flat and didn't impress me. There was another break, I think it was called Montero, that looked nice. If I'd had the energy and still had the board I would've gone in.

Mavericks was FLAT. FLAT FLAT FLAT! What's with that? I coulda gone in with a board and then I could truthfully say I surfed Mavericks, ha ha, it was that flat. I thought Mavericks was never flat. I would have enjoyed seeing that famous wave, except there were no waves.

Ocean Beach

2009-06-14T18:04:00.000-07:00

I had some trepidation about trying to surf Ocean Beach, given what I'd read about it. And last time I was in San Francisco it was a grey, rainy, windy day with blown out slop and no one out on a Sunday afternoon.

But today the stars (sun/wind/tides) all aligned. I got up early, checked the cams, rented a board, and went. The waves were two to three feet, there was no wind, the sun was out and so were the surfers. All I could get was a softtop board a foot shorter than I like, but that would be OK, I thought.

I later found out that that is the only place in the area that rents boards, because, the other shop told me, the surf is usually big and rough and they have had to do too many rescues.

The waves were a lot more powerful and harder to catch than they looked, the board was not familiar, and it took me a lot of tries/wipeouts before I caught any, and a lot more before I got to my feet. But then I did. Then I wiped out again. I was alternating between: I'm just like a beginner, I might as well never have surfed before, I can't get anything---and: Catching a wave, getting up (though not often popping, my arms are so exhausted from the last few days) and actually riding a San Francisco wave. Five times.

Today it was the Aqua Board guy. He was the one catching all the waves and having all the fun. He actually smiled and said to me after one ride, "That was one of the best waves I've ever had." I said I hadn't had any yet, and he said what I had just been thinking: "It's hard to know where to sit today. You are either too far out or too far in." And that simple acknowledgment that it wasn't just me seemed to make all the difference---that and watching him and going where and when he went.

Though the paddle outs were short and easy and I only had to turtle once, there was a lot of strong current. I wiped out pearling quite a few times, other times wiped out right after standing up. It took strength to hang on to the board through all the wipeouts. What I am saying is, though I cannot say quite why, I don't think I have ever, ever been as exhausted after a surf session as I was after two hours at Ocean Beach this morning. I was ready for a nap at two p.m. All I could do was lie in the sun for an hour or so. And I'm not sure I want to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

And like yesterday, the surf session was only part of the adventure. The rest of the fun entailed me having been left---dripping wet, without so much as a towel, a bottle of water, sunscreen, even one cent of cash to buy lunch, my phone, my clothes, my shoes, etc.---at the beach in the hot sun by my companion, who evidently didn't see me looking for him and just took off. I might have been sitting in that wetsuit for hours without any way to get off that beach or any idea if he would come back. What a pissy lowdown thing to do to somebody. I'll be generous and say we had a misunderstanding, but even so that doesn't make it OK to dump somebody at a strange beach. Yes, by using my wits I was eventually able to resolve the situation before wetsuit rash, sunstroke or dehydration set in.

Be the guy with the red board

2009-06-12T22:57:00.000-07:00

I spent the afternoon at Capitola, missing waves. There wasn't anything challenging about the waves or the break. But I kept paddling and missing, for a couple hours. Eventually I figured out two things: I was too far forward on this board because it was six inches shorter than my usual board. Second, the only guys getting waves were in one particular spot under the curl. As usual I was off to the shoulder so as not to get in their way. Which meant when we all paddled for waves, they got them and I missed.

And I was willing to accept this. What are the deep-seated psychological reasons why I was willing to accept having travelled across the country in search of waves only, once I got there, to forego said waves just because there were other people who wanted them?

Ah, let's count the reasons. I'm a white female ("the whitest person I ever met" according to my old friend W. who is white himself but not as white as me) of a certain generation before MTV, was raised Catholic, grew up in the Midwest, experienced abuse as a child...all of which translates boringly and predictably into: Someone who puts other people's needs before her own.

And then there was the guy with the red board, who was none of the above I am sure, except white. The guy with the red board was always in the right spot. He'd get ride after ride, then paddle right back out to the right spot.

And at this break as the one yesterday, there was really only one narrow zone for getting rides. A few feet away, and you'd get nothing.

Once again I was reminded of the primal rule of surfing, which is the primal rule of life:

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS BEING TOO AGGRESSIVE.

What was I doing thousands of miles from home out in the middle of the ocean? Did I come there to sit politely and not interfere with other people's fun?

Hell no!

So I started going right where the red board guy went, and paddling for "his" waves, and not caring whether anyone was taking off right beside me or sitting in front of me.

That was the key, two hours into the session, to finally getting waves: Just take them. Be the guy with the red board.

I did notice a lot of people (like last time in Santa Cruz) taking off next to each other, taking off with people right in front of them not caring if they ran them over, doing all that stuff that would get you yelled at in New York, but here it seems to be expected and no one gets upset.

After I got my few waves I was able to get out of the water with a shred of dignity.

Then I found my rental car had a flat tire, which was a whole nother adventure. If you happen to be on the West coast, do not rent from Fox Rent a Car, folks.

But that led to my getting my board back to the shop three hours late, which got me to the surf shop after dark, to find quite an interesting scene in the parking lot.

There was a half naked surf instructor, around my age and quite good looking (and not all of them are) and five tall blond men, very young and good looking, replaying the waves for each other over and over, smoking and drinking. You may have heard this phrase before, it's almost a cliche, but in this case it was quite literally true: They were dripping with stoke.

Turned out the guys were from Denmark and probably had never surfed before. The surf instructor offered them all a place to stay at his house, any time. We talked a little as I was returning the board and even glassy eyed with pot and stoke he was still smarter and more interesting than most surf instructors I've encountered. I got his number and an invite to stay at his place, too. I was leaving from San Francisco the next day or I might have called him up. Next time.

Wonder what happens when all the students he's given this offer to show up at his door at once?

Oh yeah, and this encounter in the Cowells parking lot was the first time in my life I've ever been addressed as "dude," which makes me smile every time I think of it.

Surf trips, real and ideal

2009-06-11T12:14:00.000-07:00

The ideal surf trip goes something like this:

Disembark in a sunny location with fabulous waves, ready to go surf even if you've been traveling for ten hours. Go directly to the fabulous break without getting lost or even being unsure of where it is. Find waves so much better than you have at home---not too big and not too small and oh so much better shaped than you've ever experienced, gentle and powerful at the same time. Oh yes, and uncrowded, and you magically know the exact time the tide is most favorable. Surf expertly the first time out, have much more fun than you ever had at home (did I mention you found a surf shop that rents you exactly the perfect board for you?). Meet a whole bunch of local surfers, barbecue on the beach, drink margaritas, fall asleep and get up and do it again every day for a week.

Hah.

How about: Arrive exhausted after having been up since 5:00 a.m. Rent a board that's the best you can find but not anything like what you would want. Tide's too high but you're going anyway. You're so tired you just want an easy surf, even one nice ride will do, but there are no waves at the beginner beach (Cowells---first time I have ever seen it with no one out at all), so you have to go to the intermediate (Steamer). Paddle out through more kelp than you believed possible. Keep getting fins snagged on kelp, and paddling is not paddling so much as pulling yourself along on kelp ropes. Try to figure out where to sit in lineup, fail miserably. Waves a little bigger than your comfort level. Paddle and fail, paddle and fail, perhaps because the locals are sitting in the narrow area where the wave curls and you are always over to the shoulder, respectful of their right to take every wave away from tourists like you. Finally catch a wave by the ass-backward technique of turtling it too late and getting caught up in it anyway, try to stand up when the wave's almost over, get your contact lens knocked off by the wave.

Slink off in disgrace to the kiddie section inside, wait there forever along with a couple of other cowards until some two footers come along, miss those as well. Or if you get them can't stand up and can't figure out why. Watch the other cowards get rides. Finally give up because you're cold and tired.

Repeat for the next few days.

Actually, there was one surf trip to a new location that wasn't like this, which was Virginia Beach last summer. That was a sunny beautiful day, I timed the tide right, waves were small and I got lots of them without needing hours to figure them out. It wasn't perfect but sufficient fun was had.

There was something good about today's session, though: the music of the seals. There were seals in the water but there was a whole big seal party happening on the rocks, with tons of big fat seals (sea lions?) singing their hearts out.

CALIFORNIA!

2009-06-04T19:35:00.000-07:00

Dear fellow surfers,

In just one week I will be in sunny California again. First I will be in Santa Cruz for a couple of days, and then San Francisco.

If any of you on the West Coast would like to get together and show an Easterner the surf ropes, just let me know here.

It would be fun to have somebody to surf with, and none of my friends in California do.

SUMMERRRR!

2009-05-30T19:40:00.000-07:00

It's on---the summer roller derby we call the surfing beach.

While it's good to see so many faces not seen since the end of last summer, it takes a while to get used to being confined in a small crowded area once again.

Today the waves not as good as predicted, but nonetheless the hype had brought people out who were determined to surf no matter what.

There were at least three times I caught waves with my name on them, only to find somebody else sitting right in my path unable or unwilling to get out of my way. When that happens even if I've caught the wave perfectly I don't even try to stand up. That is because I think (whether it is true or not) I am better able to control and steer the board while on my knees or my belly. I rode these waves in prone in order to avoid hitting somebody, and they were good waves and so fun they would have been fun to actually, really surf. Which got me thinking: if I did pop up in this situation couldn't I steer the board well enough to avoid a collision? At this point I think I could, but I'm not sure enough to risk hitting somebody. The only way to know is, well, to do it. I've gotten much better at making the board go where I want, i.e. turning, but in a critical situation I am not sure I could do it well enough. I believe I could, but haven't tried. Maybe next time?

The return of the evening session

2009-05-18T20:02:00.000-07:00

For the past week or so Lake Ontario's the only body of water I've seen---yeah, beautiful, and yes it has waves, and I bet some people even surf it, but not me.

Back home at last, I had an evening session tonight, the first time since last summer...ah, an evening session. A sunset session, in fact. It wasn't until evening that the first rays of sunshine appeared today...and then the water was glassy and the sunset was lovely (marred only by the condo on 96th Street that has increased in size alarmingly since the summer and now obstructs the setting sun).

I felt fat and out of shape and out of practice, plus I'm still fighting the remnants of a cold, but I still managed some rides and God it felt good.

Sunset sessions were pretty much all I had my first year, but for a long time I've been getting out in the morning when winds are generally better, and I had almost forgotten how lovely a sunset session can be. I stayed out until 8:30 when it got too gloamy to really see the waves coming in.

A note to the cyberstalkers

2009-05-17T19:49:00.000-07:00

You may have been wondering why I haven't deleted the latest comments by the twelve-year-olds-in-forty-year-old-bodies who routinely post harassing and/or obscene comments on this site. I have a pretty good idea who they are; they are obviously people who know me since they often include personal information that strangers wouldn't know. With the help of law enforcement agencies, I'm in the process of finding out exactly where those posts came from, and deleting them would be counterproductive.

Note to the morons: You might not realize that there are laws now against harassment by internet, and that you can and will be prosecuted.

The rest of you, please just ignore them.

Surfing and...

2009-05-05T12:19:00.000-07:00

Today was a totally unexpected, unplanned surf session. The kind where you wake up, look out the window, and rearrange your plans for the day.

The waves were bigger and a bit tougher to figure out than they looked, and the wind adverse for most of the session, but I still got a couple of fun rides.

Now I gotta do a zillion other things. Honestly, if I told you how many things I have to do today, and how challenging they are, it would boggle your mind. It kind of makes me miss the old days when it took four hours to commute back and forth to the waves and surfing took up the whole day. It was kind of relaxing to know you had no other purpose that day but to surf (and then depressing if the session was bad and you'd blown off your work). Now that my commute is 30 seconds, I have most of the day left afterwards.

The only way to handle such a day is to just keep focused on one thing at a time, because if you think ahead to the four other things you have to do and the places you have to be before the end of the day, you will lose it.

Like last Sunday, I had to do a bookstore reading in the evening after surfing and sunning in 90 degree midday heat (and we all know what that takes out of you). I was pooped by 4 p.m. but the show had to go on. And it did.

All I can say is, Thank God for Red Bull. I don't know what I would do without it. That stuff kicks ass.

Not a girl anymore

2009-04-21T14:21:00.000-07:00

It was foggy out today, and by the time I got close enough to assess the waves, I could see they were bigger than they had looked either from my window or on the cam. Still, there were a few people out and they looked happy. So I decided to go.

This was not a day it was exactly going to be easy to get out. It's been quite a while since I had to as much as turtle dive, and I was having a hard time getting my head and body around that fact. Yes, we do get spoiled, or lazy, when we can usually pretty much walk out.

As I was paddling out, I noticed there was quite a fierce drift, which always seems to happen when it's foggy for some reason.

It was on a day like this that I smashed my board up on the wooden jetty spikes.

Next thing I knew, I was on top of those spikes. Oh shit; and worse, what every local surfer dreads, my leash had gotten wrapped around one. I was stuck.

OK, it's happened, I'm stuck; what now? First thing, get myself unstuck. But I couldn't reach down and unwrap the leash from the spike with the waves coming at me; I had to get the leash off my ankle. That would've been easy but for the lobster gloves.

Get the glove off, OK. Let the glove go, it's only a glove. But then I couldn't immediately find the tab on the leash. The waves were coming at me without respite. I was still where I could stand up, though I couldn't really move. By the time the waves got to me they were whitewater but still pretty powerful. Powerful enough to knock me over if I didn't watch them carefully. They did a couple of times, and I got mouthfuls of water, and then there wasn't much time until the next one came.

OK, but I wasn't going to drown. The only real danger was that I might panic. And it's hard not to panic when you're tied to a sharp wooden spike with waves coming at you. I could have gotten struck by my board, or thrown by the waves onto the spikes.

I remembered that last summer a woman surfer had gotten her leash stuck on the jetty, and when she told the story later to everybody she called it a near drowning. I will come back to this woman's story shortly, because it's important.

Nevertheless I managed to calm myself down enough to get the leash off, then take a few steps to shore to catch my breath.

There was my board, my only board, my $950 board, doing somersaults on the waves, about to be broken in half again or worse, shredded to bits beyond repair.

My first thought was to get back out there to the board, take the leash off and bring it in. But it seemed whenever I got close it was pulled away by the waves. Once I did get close, I would have to be very, very careful not to impale myself on the jetty or get hit in the head by the board. Was it worth getting hurt, to save my board?

It wasn't working. I took a break on shore and contemplated my options. Wait until low tide when it would be easier? That would be eight hours, the board would be toast by then. The only reason it wasn't yet, was that it was high tide.

Would it be easier to get out with a board? Could someone with a board help me?

Then I see this guy, the one I haven't ever given a name or initial on this blog, someone who's been exceptionally patient and helpful to me the couple of times I've seen him. He doesn't at first realize what's wrong, not until I point out my riderless board bobbing in the waves.

I have to get it, I say.

You can do that, he says. Get a knife to cut the leash. Or keep diving under the waves until you are able to get the leash off.

He's right, but I must have looked skeptical. I'm thinking about how to do this without getting slashed by a fin or a spike.

He's ready to move on, duty done, but then he doesn't.

Are you asking me for to help you? he says.

Yes, I say.

He looks at me for a minute. I think, he doesn't want to, he wants to go. Then he says, OK, I will. Because you're a girl.

Because I'm a girl?

That makes me feel stupid and incapable, but I will take it, because I want my board. I need my board. I can't afford to buy another one. And I'm too glad to be unscathed to want to go back out there. I did panic for a minute, and now I've got that chemical reaction that comes when you're done panicking.

He goes out. It takes him a few tries, maybe ten minutes. I feel stupid just standing there watching his board, I should be doing something, helping somehow. The board keeps floating away, but he finally gets it. He gets on top of it so it doesn't float away again, then he gets the leash off and rides it in.

Thank you, thank you, I say, I owe you, but he's not interested. He says he's tired. I tired him out. He has to go. He seems to be pretty disgusted. I feel I need to apologize for asking his help. I'm pretty sure he's fed up and is not going to be helpful again. After all, I could've gotten the board myself. I really could have.

Why didn't I?

Because I'm a girl?

But of course I'm not, wasn't that the point he was making?

I'm not a girl, in any sense of the word, so why should I ask for help and why should he give it? It was like I was asking for something to which I wasn't entitled.

How different it would have been were I twenty-something.

Flash back to the story of the other woman who got her leash wrapped around the spikes.

She is about 28, very slim and very pretty, a good surfer and very popular.

She panicked and thought she was drowning. She signalled for help and a young male surfer came to her rescue.

I bet she didn't think twice about asking for help and he didn't think twice about rescuing her, and afterwards the story was told over and over and she was the damsel in distress and he was the hero. Good warm fuzzy feelings all around. Could she have managed to have gotten herself unstuck? Yeah, probably, I bet. Did anyone suggest that she should have rescued herself? No.

She was helped in part, and he was glad to help, because she was a girl. A young, beautiful girl.

And young, beautiful girls learn that we can get help when we need it, or even when we don't, because we are young and hot. That's just the way it is. (I was young once too, and though never beautiful, it's just a fact that I also was, in my 20s, hot.)

There's a way in which we come to feel entitled to help, even when we're strong and perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.

As I was today, I now think. So why didn't I do it?

It's a real shock to your self image when you realize you're no longer entitled, no longer special, even if you never wanted to be, nor asked for it, and even when you generally take pride in being strong and self sufficient (in short, like a guy).

I guess we want the help to be there even if we don't need it. Or we're so used to it, we miss it when it's gone. It's like being called Ma'am for the first time; you know you've forever lost something you didn't choose but didn't want to lose.

At that point, you'd better have your guy side together. Because you're no girl anymore.

It shouldn't bother me, it doesn't bother me...it does.

Did you see the last episode of Desperate Housewives? Yeah, I watch it. The four sexy housewives, all of them on the right side of 40, are taking a drive, along with their scarily old and wrinkled--60ish? 70ish?---female neighbor. She looks like every woman's worst nightmare of what she is going to look like when she is old. The car gets a flat tire. What now? "Who knows how to change a tire?" asks one of the beautiful housewives.

You know what happens next. The only one who's capable of changing a tire is the old woman. She gets out and does what needs to be done. Funny, right? Funny-true.

Moral: If you're not young and hot, you better be able to change your own tire or save your own ass/surfboard.

PS: Neither me nor my surfboard has as much as a scratch on us, I am happy to say.

POOP, no, shit, no, crap

2009-04-02T12:13:00.000-07:00

Today was my first time in the water in nearly a month. At first I thought I had completely forgotten how to surf, which would be only natural after such a long hiatus, and thought I was doomed to have a POOP (pathetically out of practice) session. But it only took about fifteen minutes of adjusting to today's waves before I was poop no longer.

After that I got lots of waves and lots of rides all the way to the beach, no problem. I stayed out of the way of the bearlike man (BM) next to me. It felt glorious to be in the ocean again and to swallow saltwater; saltwater, heavens it's tasty (SHIT).

And waiting for waves, I had lots of leisure to consider the landscape all around me, with unsold and unfinished condominiums on nearly every corner. Condos really are pollution (CRAP)!

That's all for today.

The (non) Surfer's Prayer

2009-03-25T11:26:00.000-07:00

Dear Ocean,

Thank you for always being there, no matter what. I know that (almost) every day of my life you are offering me some sort of waves, waiting patiently for me to choose you. I love just looking at you even if I can't go in, watching your moods, your colors and light. Like on a day when I wake up at sunrise because I must get on a plane, and you are bathed in pink, and I see nice little lines and several boards bobbing in the water, and I know without even checking that there is some north in the wind and the waves would be fun to ride, and at the same time I know that if I squeeze in even one hour in the water there is a chance that I will miss my plane, and besides it won't be just one hour, it's getting in and out of the suit and taking a shower afterwards, so I can't chance it, but oh how I would like to, I look at the boards in the water and I'm already feeling what it would be like. It's good to know that I could have gone in today, even if I don't. It's good to know that when and if my life settles down to the point that I can grab a couple of hours of water time, you will welcome me back. I know it's been almost a month already, and I don't know where that month went, it flew by as it if were a moment; but I also know that you are not in a hurry, you are not going anywhere. Even when I can't see you out my window because I'm far away, I know you're still there. That knowledge sustains me. Wait for me. I will be with you as soon as I can.

Love,

Grandma

When time just stops

2009-03-08T14:40:00.000-07:00

What is that song about time stopping? I can hear it but can't hear enough of it to remember what or who it is.

It goes like... "that perfect moment when time just stops..."

Actually I think it's "time just slips away..."

Who is that? What song?

Because that's what it was like today. I caught the waves perfectly and when I was riding it didn't feel like I was moving at all. It felt like time had stopped.

I was in perfect position and all I had to do was be there. Out of time.

Back in New York

2009-03-07T09:01:00.000-08:00

Today was my first day back surfing in New York. I arrived back in time for the biggest snowstorm of the winter---1 foot of snow on March 1st, and spent a week on my computer working. I looked out my window at waves and surfers and snow but they barely registered and I had no desire to go out; I just had so much work to do. I got up from my chair a week later and the temperature was 60 degrees.

So today I had to go surfing. Because it was so warm and sunny and Saturday, the water was packed.

I felt as if I had completely forgotten how to surf, plus I'm still a bit sore from skiing...but slowly it came back. I can still surf. Just, every time I got up on a wave today, there was somebody else on it, someone I hadn't seen going for it. So to avoid hitting them I'd have to bail and I didn't really get any rides. But yeah, I can still haul my ass up on a surfboard.

Damn that water is cold. I think it's still bottoming out. It hasn't turned around yet. Despite the sun and warm weather I had to get out early because my fingers were cold even in my best warmest gloves.

The skurf blog

2009-02-28T09:12:00.000-08:00

I think I'll just say that the afternoon I spent out at Cowell's in Santa Cruz was one of the most miserable surf days of my life, and leave it at that.

Well, no, I can't leave it at that. It's supposed to be a beginner beach, and so easy, so my expectations were high. I even caught and rode my first wave that afternoon, which qualifies as the first wave I have ever ridden in the state of California, so yay for that!

But things fell apart after that. It was so-o-o- crowded. I guess it was the first sunny day in Santa Cruz in quite a while. As the tide dropped it got more and more crowded. And people were all over the place. I mean like, scattered out over a mile: inside, outside, all sides. There was not, as far as I could tell, any takeoff spot or spots. And people weren't keeping the minimum distance between surfers that we just automatically keep at home; they'd sit right next to you or right in front of you, two deep. And when you'd look at them like, what the hell is this, they'd just smile at you.

I guess that's the difference between California and New York: in New York they'd glare and give you a dirty look as if it were your fault that they were sitting in your way.

Every time I paddled for something there was someone in my way; but mostly I spent my time just trying to figure out where to be.

You can paddle out a short distance there or a long one; I opted for the long one, because I thought that's where people were catching waves, but it wasn't worth it. It was just a long ass paddle, about six times what it takes to get out at home. I have to say, though, that "no pain no gain" applies; our short paddles net us five or six second rides, where the long paddles get you...guess what...long rides. Or, got other people long rides, all I got was the paddle.

I didn't get another ride til the end of the session, when I caught an inside wave on the way out.

Skiing California was way, way more fun. Half the time there were blue skies, sunshine, warm temperatures and really good snow; the other half there were blizzards, howling winds, and really good snow. Those whiteout days were my most challenging ski days ever, I think. I was on expert trails I didn't know, at a resort where I'd never been where trails weren't well labeled, and I couldn't see for shit; I could only guess where the trail was if I saw someone else head down it, and then they soon disappeared into the blizzard. With nothing to see but whiteness everywhere, I lost track of where was up and where was down, so much so that I'd fall while practically standing still cause I couldn't tell where I was going. It was extremely disorienting. Plus so few people were out in the midweek blizzard, no one might have found me for a long time if I'd gotten lost. It was a little scary.

The next day the sun would come out and the trail that had been so challenging would be easy. And fun. Sports you actually know how to do well are fun.

Sewage, seaweed and seals

2009-02-24T07:39:00.000-08:00

I'm in California halfway through my skurfing (skiing and surfing) trip. So far the snow has been much more impressive than the waves. In Santa Cruz I was told this was the "worst winter for waves in years."

I spent yesterday trying to figure out the wave at Steamer Lane without any success. It was choppy and shifty. And how do you guys out here surf with all that vegetation (seaweed or sea grapes or whatever it is) in the water? Seems like your leash or board or arm would always be getting stuck on those vines.

Conversation in the water: "Why do you wear those glasses? Is it to keep water out of your eyes so you don't get an eye infection?"

Me: "No, it's so I can see. Are we going to die from surfing in this water?"

"It's probably not the healthiest water."

The best and only good thing about the session were the two cute baby seals floating not ten feet away, happily chomping on the sea vegetation and making baby seal noises halfway between a squeak and a bark.

Oh yeah, and Donavon is staying at my hotel. I saw his show in San Francisco and now he's in SC.

It's been raining here so much, it's been impossible to avoid going in the water after a rainfall, which I know you're not supposed to do. There are posted signs about deadly runoff and avoiding contact with skin. Now I suppose there's nothing to do but wait and see if my skin turns green or I mutate into some sort of sea monster, or just get hepatitis or the nasty sort of malady I contracted in Malibu...

It just started raining again but I am going back in today, my last day here. If I die I die.

The good thing about surfing in sewage, I suppose, is that it keeps the crowds down. Yesterday I was told Steamers was unusually uncrowded. It seemed pretty crowded to me with at least fifteen people out (one other was a woman). I was surprised that so few of us were getting rides. Only a couple really good guys were. There was a degree of ineptitude I didn't expect at such a renowned break, except from myself.

Well, at least the water temperature is balmy compared to New York.

3 for 4

2009-02-04T14:51:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I tried to surf, I really did; but when I woke up early, there was little out there. Went back to bed, and by the time I woke up it had started snowing and snowed all day.

I confess I was just too comfortable watching the snowfall from my easy chair, being warm.

And I didn't think there was much of a wave. It was hard to tell without going outside. But late in the afternoon, I saw the surf couple down the street heading out with their boards, so I knew something was up.

Turns out Surfline had put out a late late afternoon good surf update, which few people saw...but those who did surfed if they could.

I hope they had fun. I was just enjoying the luxury of staying in on a snow day too much.

But today, there was no question about waves. Well, the question early was whether they were too big for me. Probably; but by noon they were a little smaller.

They were still a little above my comfort level. As usual when that happens, I hung back too far, anticipating one of the big sets hitting me if I didn't; but the result was I kept just missing waves. And there were long lulls between sets which made getting out easier but also meant I got cold much quicker than I would've if I'd had more sets to paddle for. After hanging up on top of a couple of waves I finally did what I thought I couldn't do: took off later than I felt comfortable with on a bigger wave than usual. I made it. So late wasn't late at all, I just thought it would be.

Having learned that lesson, I was ready to go in before I froze to death. I felt a little like a wimp for getting out after only an hour, but the guy who was going in when I did was going out at the same time, so we were both wimps.

I coulda stayed out until my fingers hurt more...nah.

Surfing to Schubert

2009-02-02T20:23:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's possible. (Franz Schubert, early nineteenth century composer of classical music; look him up if you don't know.)

I've had this Schubert piece (well, you can't exactly call it a song) that I've been playing and listening to a lot lately stuck in my head; and I couldn't get it out while I was in the water today. That's OK; it went very well with glassy water, gentle waves, and especially a glorious late winter sunset.

I actually think it helped me surf better. Today was a lot of fun.

It was my second surf day in a row (yesterday really wasn't worth writing about, with choppy conditions, hate vibes, and few rides) and it's looking like I could go for three or four.

Surf contest

2009-01-24T20:24:00.000-08:00

No, not really. But it was my first time surfing with L. in months, the first time since she's gotten better.

Though she is still a wimp. Here's what happened: we went in together and she got three rides in about fifteen or twenty minutes. I didn't get any. It usually takes me about that long just to figure out the waves.

So she won the first heat. But then she quit after only twenty minutes---after spending over an hour getting suited, driving to the beach, etc.

I got going after she left, and got a ton of rides in the next two hours. Yeah, things went good today---maybe because the wind was onshore? Because the waves were so small? Because I am Bizarro Surfer who can only ride in adverse wind and poopy waves? Who knows? The most challenging part of today turned out to be getting the surfboard home safely in wind that threatened to carry me off like the Flying Nun.

I didn't get cold and I had fun and I surely won the last seventeen surf heats.

Inaugural surf

2009-01-20T19:15:00.000-08:00

In the interest of full disclosure, I am obliged to report that I sucked today.

It's because the waves were more than two feet. I still don't get it when the waves get over two feet. It's a whole different game.

Plus my gloves weren't warm enough and I had to quit early. My fingers actually hurt for a while afterwards.

The plus side was a guy I haven't seen since the summer took pity on me and was trying to help me out---offering me the best spot, telling me when to go. He finally had to conclude that I needed more help than he could offer. Sadly, he's right. It was embarrassing but I think I learned a little (about how much I suck).

Even more depressing (for me) is that L. has returned from a two week surf trip a much better surfer than she was---and than I am. This always happens with my surf buddies---sooner or later they surpass me and then it becomes difficult to surf together. L. is now up to eight foot waves. Ah, shit. I mean, Great!

Cold, schmold

2009-01-15T15:36:00.000-08:00

Here's one of many reasons I love living at the beach: in the middle of a snowy 19 degree day in January, when surfing is the last thing on my mind and has been for some time because I have been so busy, I can be coming back from the grocery store with a huge bag of stuff and run into T., a local surfer, all suited up and with board in arm, who notifies me of the sighting of small waves, and all of a sudden my day can change from putting the groceries and laundry away to...something else.

It doesn't happen all at once, but little by little all excuses for not surfing melt away. Chores? Phone calls? Too much work? Nothing that can't wait.

The biggest excuse of all..too cold.

I seriously considered that one for a while.

I have never been out in 19 degrees before. I don't think I've ever been out when the air temperature was below 30. I had set that as my limit, the sanity stop-point on the "You surf in the winter? You're crazy"-o-meter.

But there was T., in the water when I looked out my window. And in short order he was joined by 4 others, all getting nice rides on the little waves. The wind was light and almost perfect.

So I caved, and set a new world record for the coldest surf ever.

What a good idea that turned out to be.

I wasn't cold at all. Not a whit. At first I thought I would be, and that got me off to a slow start where I missed lots of waves. But then I realized I was going to be OK, and relaxed, and the last other surfer left so I was all alone, and then the sun came out. If anything maybe the cold made me focus. You really hate missing waves more when it's 19 degrees. Fortunately there were lots of waves to paddle for and that kept me warm. I started nailing them. It wasn't so hard. I really like being alone with my thoughts, or non-thoughts, in the water, which today were along the lines of, "My publisher has arranged for me to give a lecture at Johns Hopkins, now that's hard, compared to that surfing is a piece of cake!"

That seemed to work well. I was getting up nicely and once I was up was able to work on adjusting my posture and balance to stay with the wave until the end. I ended up getting lots of long rides and had one of the better surfing days of my life.

In the end I had to go in more because I was getting hungry than because I was cold. Cold, schmold.

Christmas Wave Stoke

2008-12-27T12:37:00.000-08:00

I waited for it. I looked for it. It happened.

Christmas waves!

Actually I've been waiting since last Christmas. That day there were very good little waves. But I hadn't included surfing in my Christmas plans. Instead, I had promised to visit an old friend. For reasons that are too complicated and sad to go into here, that experience turned out to be deeply depressing. I wished I had surfed.

This year, once I got a hint of possible waves in the forecast, I decided to leave that possibility open.

I am very into ritual and tradition at Christmas, slow to change. But sometimes change can be good. For instance, I bought all new Christmas ornaments this year. Thank god---that was only about ten years overdue! I didn't realize how sick I was of all the old ornaments and their baggage. My tree looks so much better! And guess what---no icicles!

Cautiously, I even played around with my traditional Christmas menu. And that turned out to be a good thing too.

But I haven't changed the Christmas cookies. Some things cannot be improved upon.

It was a gorgeous sunny Christmas morning. A look out the window at eight a.m. confirmed it: I got what I wanted for Christmas!

And no one out!

There was time, because a look out the window also confirmed that the wind was brisk. Time for more traditional Christmas celebrations, until the wind turned...

By which time there were tons of people out, but that was OK.

A touch of west still in the wind meant the waves were closing out a little too soon---well, at least for me; other people were able to get better longer rides. Still, the waves were fun sized and there were enough of them---with the sun and warm temperatures, a great way to spend Christmas afternoon. I got several rides. On none of them did I get the timing and balance exactly right, but some I rode all the way in. That means, while others were riding down the line even on these closeouts to end up down the beach a ways, I was zigging and zagging but pretty much going straight, only just keeping from falling as the waves closed out.

Still, rides on Christmas!

After that, I was pooped. But not too pooped for the traditional Christmas dinner (all I can tell you is that, in my household, it involves four quarts of heavy cream and has about twelve zillion calories) and the concert of traditional Christmas music held every year at the Cathedral of St. John, a great place to end a Christmas day.

I think I have just started a new Christmas tradition.

The unexpected

2008-12-16T19:57:00.000-08:00

When I do my annual writeup of the highlights and lowlights of the past year (not for public consumption, just for me), I know what I am going to title it: The Year of the Unexpected.

Because there's no way, this time last year, I could ever have imagined all that's happened in 2008. No way I would ever have thought I would be where I am.

The best things in life are so often unexpected.

This week, they included: Stopping into the Steinway piano store on 57th St. on a whim and getting to play a truly extraordinary nine-foot concert grand for an uninterrupted hour.

http://www.pianoworld.com/ubb/ubb/ultimatebb.php?/topic/1/24951.html

And today, it was a surprise surf session in a snowstorm.

Actually, the snow had pretty much stopped by the time I got out. But I will never get over the thrill of walking through snow to get to the water. (If I get tired of it, shoot me; it's one of those thrills, like watching a sunset out of an airplane window, that no one alive should ever tire of.)

The wind was light and north, and the only way to describe the waves today was lazy. They were small and slow, my favorite kind. I could ride as many as I could catch, and it wasn't difficult. Despite the snow, the air was warm, even the water seemed warm for December. I did perfect popups and then worked on trying to keep my balance as the wave closed out, as they do so quickly here. I was able to do that better than I ever have before. And again, and again, until dark.

I don't know what 2009 will bring, surfing-wise and otherwise; I do know that it won't be what I expected.

Jersey Girls

2008-11-30T15:40:00.000-08:00

This Thanksgiving weekend was the occasion for an impromptu surf trip to the Jersey shore. The forecast was for sunny weather, favorable winds and small waves---perfect for me and my friend L., who happens to be the one person who (most days) surfs worse than me. So we grabbed our boards and her dog and drove for a couple hours to waves that were just about what we expected. My second time ever in Jersey!

L.'s been surfing only about two years, way less than me. I have to say her surfing style is a revelation to me. If you've been reading this interminable blog for any length of time, you have evidence of how much I've struggled to learn, how often I've felt hopeless, how many miserable sessions I've had and perhaps most poignantly, how often I've felt like an imposter or fake who goes through the motions but isn't really a surfer.

L.'s style is more zen. She isn't trying and so isn't upset when she doesn't. This weekend she drove four hours, spent money on gas and hotels, struggled into a new wetsuit ($500)-boots-gloves-hood, braved cold water, struggled out of the suit in a parking lot, repeated the suit-and-cold struggle a second day, all just...to be in the water for a total of about an hour. And the minute she was in the water, she was having fun (she said, and I believe her). She caught no waves at all the first day, only a couple the second day, but...and this is really hard for me to believe...it didn't matter to her.

If I were her...well, I couldn't be her. I can't seem to do anything without having a goal. To me, achieving the goal is the fun. My goal may not be overhead waves, but it is actual surfing, including the advanced stuff I have yet to learn like turning.

Being in the water, as I've said here before, is just being in the water. I do believe there's a lot more to it than having an excuse to sit in the ocean in November peeing in your wetsuit. I do believe that riding a wave for more than one second is more fun than that. Yes.

But I can't say that I detected any sign that she was doing anything other than, as she said, having fun. If she wasn't, she sure was good at faking it.

So she had a great time, and so did I, despite very very little surfing. At least it wasn't like the time I was at the other location in Jersey, where the local boys wouldn't let me catch any waves. Now that was a totally miserable surf trip.

At the first location we went to this weekend, which wasn't exactly where we'd planned to go but ended up being good, I caught some waves and rode them; at the second, I had more trouble figuring the wave out, but still got a couple rides. But the whole weekend didn't equal an entire session, for me. That's because I had to stick with L. and she is such a wimp. She can only last twenty or thirty minutes at a time before she gets tired. Given the fact that she is fifteen years younger than me, that made me feel mighty proud of the shape I'm in. I never get tired before two hours have passed. Comparing myself to the guys my age or younger who can go six hours or so at a time, I feel like a wimp, but when I compare myself to L., I think I'm in great shape. Not that L.'s not good looking, she is, but she doesn't have stamina.

Next time we do this, we'll stay at a place where we don't need a car to get to the beach so I can stay in longer and feel like I did some real surfing (or at least trying). Oh yeah, and we read about this place in San Diego that has surf lessons for dogs, so why not New Jersey? Next time we'll get the pooch some boardshorts and throw him in the water as well.

Welcome to winter

2008-11-18T10:18:00.000-08:00

It's been a while.

Hint: sometimes I don't post if my sessions really suck.

Note to self: Never, never go surfing when the wind is west.
Never go to the grocery store etc. before surfing thinking what's one more hour before getting in the water because conditions can't get worse. In that hour, they can and they will. The sun will go in and the wind will pick up and the waves will turn even crappier.

There have been some miserable times in the past month.

Like the day after two days of overhead surf when it was only head high and borderline manageable for me (i.e. I could have gotten in and out without getting killed, but probably wouldn't have been able to ride anything) and had enough doubts to be dissuaded by guys coming out of the water (who know me and my ability) warning me that it was tough out there.

Like another day when it wasn't really big but fierce and there were absolutely no lulls and getting out took three turtles and I just looked at it knowing it would be a huge expense of energy, getting beat up for precious little if any reward, wondering if it would really be worth it and deciding it wouldn't. Sometimes, I just don't like that beat up feeling that lasts the rest of the day after the session, especially if I have other fun things to do that require and reward my energy.

Like yesterday, when the wind blew steadily out of the worst possible direction and it was nearly impossible to discern a wave in the roiling mess of the ocean and my 5/3 suit failed to even pretend to keep me warm and I was ready to get out after only 20 minutes and I did only to see two other guys catching waves and I was so embarrassed I had to get back in getting colder than ever in the process but all that happened in the next hour was that I caught three waves and failed to ride any of them. My only satisfaction came in ultimately staying in longer than the guy who entered the water with me but that was slim satisfaction indeed. It was an hour and 39 minutes of misery, enough to make me question why I bother.

So I didn't write about any of those days.

And then there was today.

It's the coldest day of the year so far, and the earliest I have ever broken out my 6/4 winter suit.

But the sun was out, I wasn't cold at all for two hours, the wind was north, the waves were small, and I got many rides in which I am absolutely certain I popped up correctly and did it at the right time and stayed on the wave as long as it lasted.

That's why I bother.

A good day

2008-10-27T15:49:00.001-07:00

I had to sit out the head-high+ waves we've had (reportedly---I wasn't around) this past weekend, but today was manageable. And very crowded!

Although I didn't get a lot of rides, the ones I got were very good. It was an excellent day, and here's why:

I surfed over by the jetty (i.e. the most crowded spot where the better surfers are) and was able to handle it well--getting my share of waves while not running over anyone or getting run over.

I am getting up earlier which means I'm making the drop while on my feet (yes, the waves were big enough today there was actually a drop) instead of getting up after making it. This is a new thing for me and today I did it without any problem and without even being conscious of it.

Every time I got up (and I am pretty sure I didn't use my knee) I stayed up. I was able to hold onto the waves (most of the time) to the end, even when they started closing out. I still need to work on holding on when the wave begins to close down (a challenge for anybody). Leaning forward, bending my knees, and turning the board toward the beach should help, I think. My balance has gotten much better.

Not least, it was a gorgeous sixty-degree sunny day! Those are limited this time of year.

Best wave ever

2008-10-23T19:29:00.000-07:00

My first day back in New York, and I had no plans to surf. Surfline called it flat. (Regular readers should know by now that when Surfline calls it flat, you should go surfing!)

But I did. And it was one of those totally unexpected gifts.

The wind was north, the waves were small, and I was on.

I don't mean that I got every wave. But my timing was good, and most importantly, what I mean was that I was able to focus on what happened after the popup instead of just trying to make the pop. That means stance, balance, and turning. I was able to keep going for as long as the wave would allow by adjusting my weight and balance; I was able to turn by doing what everyone's told me to do, look where I want to go and turn my shoulders in that direction; I was able to get right under the curl so that I could get all the power out of the little waves. Leaning forward more than I'm used to made a big difference, I think; I had the confidence to do that because the waves were so small. When they're bigger, I tend to unconsciously lean back, like, Whoa! I'm not sure I want to go so fast! My body gets left behind the wave and I stall and fall.

But not today.

The last wave of the day was my best wave ever. I just kept going and going and I was in perfect control.

A great wave, the kind that makes your whole day.

Grandma and Grandpa go surfing

2008-10-16T22:29:00.001-07:00

So I’m down at my sweet Secret Southern Spot (SSS) just getting a cop of coffee at MacDonald’s before heading into the ocean on an absolutely glorious summer day (though it’s October). I’m looking to meet up with my southern surf buddy A., who I met here about this time last year and who I like for many reasons but not least because he’s not the your stereotypical surfer dude. And then this classic stereotypical surfer dude rolls into MacDonalds right behind me. I register that he’s tanned, blond, tall, sunglassed, and I think he had a Channel Islands shirt on---not unusual in these parts, we’re right at the entrance to the beach. It’s one minute past eleven and he’s like, “Oh, did I miss breakfast?” And that’s such a classic surfer dude line that I turn and see Jeff Spiccoli---only with a lot more years on him. (I don’t yet know how many.)

And in the parking lot there’s his car next to mine, two boards on top, and you couldn’t stage-manage a vehicle that would scream “surfer dude” any louder, from the stickers for just about every brand of surfboard down to the bumper sticker that says “Surfing is my religion.” And since there is also a surfboard on top of my car, and we’re obviously going to the same place for the same reason, we start talking. Then we drive to the same place.

We get there and there is not much in the way of waves, tide’s too high too. After checking it he says he’s gotta go down to the other parking lot to look for his friend. And I scan the beach for A., but there’s no sign of him. So, since there’s not much to ride either, I skip the wetsuit for a bikini and grab some rays. I think I’ll sit for a while enjoying what is sure to be the last day of summer weather.

Then who comes up to me on the beach but Spiccoli dude---whom I will henceforth call B., because that’s his name---and who is with him but A.---the friend he was looking for and also the friend I was looking for. So that makes B. and me friends too.

We chill on the beach for a while, it develops that A. and B. have known each other for like 14 years, and A. is dying to go in the water because he hasn’t been for so long, and then we decide that either the waves are better or we think they are because we want to go in. So they are and we do.

B. is grabbing rides. In a short while I will tell you how long he’s been surfing and it’s longer than many of you have been alive. I’m doing fair but not great (in truth I was a little spooked because the day earlier, surfing by myself, I’d gotten bonked on the head by my board, not bad but enough to sit out the rest of what started out a great session with ice on my head). A. is getting his groove on and loving it. I’m a little too hesitant on my takeoffs because of yesterday, but slowly I figure the waves out. We are almost the only people in the water.

It takes me a long time to realize something else. It takes me a long time because I have so much experience surfing with sullen people sitting three feet away from me and concentrating hard on pretending that I don’t exist. You know, whatever they do, it’s like they have to keep staring straight ahead and telling themselves, Don’t accidentally look at her, don’t speak to her.

This is not that. This is SSS and I am with friends. So I don’t have to drift down the line because of a chill in the water. I start to do that out of sheer habit and correct myself. We can talk about surfing or about nothing, cheer each other one, make comments or ask for advice. B. is as ready to offer advice as to exult over his own good rides---“I got covered up!” (In two foot waves.) I take the opportunity to get as much advice as I can. Alas, the news is not good, I’m not surfing as well as I thought. I entertain A. with my acrobatic wipeouts more than I get rides. But at least I don’t get bonked. (I got bonked, the day before, largely because of overconfidence from doing really well.) I learn a little. It’s all good.

When another surfer or two shows up, they give and get cordial greetings instead of stinkeyes.

In this manner two hours pass very quickly. We all decide to take a break.

That’s when I learn more about B. He is older than he looks. He is most definitely older than he acts. It develops that he is so old he’s older than me and has been surfing for 38 years. I no longer feel bad about surfing worse than him.

Later I learn that B. is, in actual fact, a real grandfather---many times over---which makes him the first verified case of an actual Grandpa gone surfing. (Hey, I’m a grandma only potentially, not in actuality. And A., though my age, is not yet a grandfather.) I also learn that he has (I think it was) 13 surfboards and is a veritable museum of surfology. B. could talk surfing from morning til night for a month and not be done talking.

We talk to other random surfers, like an old dude (oh, definitely a grandpa) who says he used to live in Staten Island, and spins tales of how much better this break was back in the sixties. It’s all oddly familiar, a story repeated by surfers everywhere from time immemorial, sort of boring because it follows a well worn script and sort of comforting because here in this place that’s not my home, the script is so well known to me. It turns, inevitably, to the universal theme song of surfers everywhere: Tomorrow. Has there ever been a discussion between surfers that didn’t? How much better it will be, tomorrow? No matter that today was that tomorrow that didn’t turn out better---the next one will!

The water break turns into a beer break, another surf cliche coming true (drinking beer in the parking lot!) We’re standing around talking the usual surfer crap about the wind---why is it it always turns around just when you’re either not doing well and/or don’t really feel like going back in? Does the wind really turn on you like that, or do you have to just say that to justify something else?

I have never, never drunk beer in the middle of a surf session. I never even drink beer in the middle of the day on land. All I can say is that Grandpa Spiccoli was a very bad influence on me. However, in his defense, he did not offer us any pot.

After a couple of beers, we no longer feel like going back in the water---except for A., who is clearly jonesing. Since I can barely surf even when I have not been drinking anything but coffee, I am reasonably afraid to try going out again. We let A. go out by himself, betting that he won’t get any waves. He does. He gets another, and another, and another, while it gets dark and all we get is eaten by mosquitoes.

We do have a wide ranging conversation which I believe could only have been had in a parking lot while drinking beer after surfing and which included B.’s account of how the Virgin Mary appeared to him in a bubble in time of trouble (speaking words of wisdom, let it be) and his opinion on whether Jesus was the Messiah and if not, who he was.

Finally A. comes out of the water and he need not say “You guys are wusses for not going back in.” He need not say anything, only emit a loud and obviously very satisfying beer belch.

The sun set, and with it the great summer of 2008. I’m left with the memory of something I barely knew existed: not just surfing with friends, but a surf break (largely) without localism, without attitude, with little to no aggression. Seems impossible, but I think I experienced it. I don’t know if it’s really true, or why. Maybe it’s because SSS is, at least in the summer, at least as much of a tourist spot as a local spot. Maybe that’s why a small local crew can’t dominate. (On the other hand, there’s Virginia Beach, a tourist spot where they do, as far as I can tell.) Maybe it’s because the beach is so long and it’s just endless beach break; there is no one surf spot when any one is as good as any other. Maybe it’s because relatively few people surf here compared to nearby breaks. Hell, maybe it’s because you have to pay to get to it. I don’t know. But I think I can almost believe that SSS is, as longtime surfer A. says, a surf spot that—while it does not lack stereotypical surf character and characters---is without localism.

Smiles all around

2008-10-13T19:16:00.001-07:00

And that's just how it was today. This holiday Monday was pretty crowded with people hungry for waves, especially since the weather was almost summerlike. But it was a good crowd. Not even my worst enemy (we all know who that is by now since he reads and comments on this blog) could spoil it. Maybe this was one of the days when the chemical combustion of pot and booze in his blood balanced to make him less psychotic than usual, but who knows or cares?

Everyone was chill, I got lots of good little waves and even compliments on my surfing. There were lots of friends to talk with but little need because the smiles seemed to say it all.

Thank god I'm done with the damn indexing and don't need to stress any more about taking an impromptu couple of hours for surfing. Soon, I'll be down at SSS again and although there's not much in the wave forecast, I always know I will have a good time there. Looking forward to seeing my southern surfing buddy.

And the #1 reason to surf when you "can't"...

2008-10-05T20:31:00.000-07:00

Is because you'll get out of practice.

I felt it today.

I had to go out, I couldn't stand it anymore. Though the waves were tiny, they were good, thanks to the wind direction.

It took me a while to remember what to do, but when I did, I had some absolutely perfect rides.
Oh, and then I had to listen to people talk about how legendary last Monday was. "Days like that don't come around very often..."

The #2 (or should it be #1) reason to surf when you "can't".

That's it, I am never missing a perfect day again. I will simply trust that if you surf on a day like that, everything else will just fall into place.

And I am making my deadline with hours to spare.

The risks and benefits of not surfing when there are good waves

2008-10-02T21:24:00.000-07:00

No, I haven't been surfing. I have a final final FINAL (no, really) deadline to meet on my book and I pride myself on never missing a deadline. Lots of people have already bought it, it has to get done!

But I looked out my window on Monday, September 29th, and saw a rare sight. Perfect waves, not too big, optimal tide, north wind, sunshine and warm temperatures. (Of course, lots of people in the water.) I was not unaware that these are the days surfers live for. I was not unaware of how rare they are.

And yet.

I hesitated.

I had a looming deadline, and I had just taken the weekend off (well, two days that turned into four), and spent it having more fun than I had previously thought humanly possible. I was feeling a little guilty about that.

The work I had to do on the book, I hadn't done before and couldn't be sure of how long it would take.

I thought of going out surfing, but I didn't.

When I meet my maker (or whatever the hell happens after you die, if anything), it's now clear that my tally of regrets in life will include not surfing on September 29, 2008.

And yet at the time, it seemed a perfectly reasonable choice.

Only time can tell if it was correct. If I meet my deadline with two hours to spare, then I'll know I could have gone.

Sometimes, the choice not to go can be wrong; but other times, it can be right, even if you miss out on really good waves.

Consider January 12, 2008.

If you look back in these archives, you will see I went out surfing that day and had a really good time. That was a day when I had planned to go to an event in Manhattan instead of surfing. I was also on a deadline (same book, different deadline), and was kind of unsure whether I could afford the time, but was leaning towards going because it looked to be a very worthwhile event. I could afford the time to go to the city, or go surfing, but probably not both.

When I woke up that day and there were waves, I went in the water.

Even so, I maybe still could have made it into the city. But then a friend called and we talked for a while, then I got hungry and had to get food, and after that it seemed too late to go.

It's ten months later, and I still remember that afternoon. I haven't been able to forget a single detail.

There was this inner voice saying to me: Go. There is someone there who you were meant to meet.

I didn't know who it was. I just knew there was someone. And I couldn't shake that conviction.

There are so many times in life I've had this feeling, of knowing something that rationally, objectively, I couldn't possibly know, that I think I have some kind of psychic ability. And when I have this feeling, I'm always right.

As I was this time.

I even looked at photos of the event later, trying to figure out who it was I was supposed to meet.

By an incredible twist of fate, I now know, because I recently met this person in another context. How lucky is that?

I was right.

I wasn't meant to go surfing that day.

Sometimes, no matter how good the waves are, there are more important things than surfing.

I forgot about this.

2008-09-21T16:01:00.000-07:00

The past week or so has been so full of stress (both the good and the bad kind) and I haven't had a ride in so long. When that happens you can forget what it's like to immerse your body and mind in a wave.

I'm so glad I took a couple of hours today to remember. I got a bunch of rides and they were really, really fun. I forgot how much fun. What a glorious last official day of summer 2008.

I'd Rather Be Indexing

2008-09-10T20:33:00.001-07:00

And then there are the days, even worse than the closeout days, when I suck for absolutely no reason I can determine. These days are even more frustrating, because the waves are not too big, not beyond my skill level, and I can't blame them. Today was one of those days.

The wind was north, the waves small and not closing out. And I couldn't catch shit. All I got was one ride. The good thing was that I got up on that one without even thinking about it, and rode it all the way in. So popping up, the hardest part of surfing, is not my problem these days. It's timing.

I just kept going for the wave too early. And then I did what I always do, what I think all good surfers do, tried to adjust what I did on each new wave based on what didn't work on the last one. I tried and and tried, but nothing worked. I tried to make myself take off later by waiting two seconds, tried moving up on the board, tried leaning forward more while taking off, tried watching the guys who were getting waves and doing what they did. I just couldn't figure it out.

I have so much work to do these days. The long summer vacation is over. And the work I have to do this month is the most boring, tedious, and least fun work I can imagine. And yet, get this, when I was out in the water I actually had to admit to myself that indexing my book would have been more fun than what I was doing out there. I don't have much clue as to how to do an index, but figuring it out is much easier than figuring out surfing.

Hung up on the Ledge

2008-09-08T19:53:00.000-07:00

The last two sessions have been really frustrating. Both days featured closeout waves, and both were just, I have to admit, beyond my ability.

The last time I went out, I spent about four hours on the beach first watching closeout after closeout, wipeout after wipeout. All that did was to bring my fear level up. Nevertheless going out in anything would have been better than continuing to sit on the beach doing nothing, but when I finally did go out my fear had gotten the best of me. It's not that the waves were too big; they were not, only about two feet. But they were just dumping and crashing. I spent my time trying not to take off too late, which resulted in my taking off too early and missing the waves.

Probably the best thing I could have done that day was just take off too late on purpose, to see what would have happened and to know I could have survived it.

The only time I got a wave that day, I ended up on the Ledge. (See post of January 31, 2008.) I hate the Ledge.

My only consolation was that A., the woman I was surfing with, couldn't do any better than I had. She and I are pretty much at the same level. Her way of trying to deal with the closeouts, she said, was taking off too late, which didn't work any better than mine, and she got worked more.

And today the waves were bigger than usual, remnants of the big storm that just passed. They were four to five feet. Even that isn't too big for me, but again they were mostly just closing out.

So I went out, and there I was on the Ledge again.

I didn't stay out long after that because I simply did not know what to do to make that not happen.

I asked another guy on the beach. This is a good surfer, an old guy I will simply call the Preacher, because that's what he is.

He didn't seem to understand what I was talking about. How can that be? When I tried to explain, he suggested what a commenter here did: take off at an angle. But I always do that anyway. Or at least I think I do, and if I'm not really doing it how the hell would I know unless someone tells me?

Then he said I had to get up and turn right away. I never try to stand up when I know there's going to be a big drop straight down. I just try to hold on to my board for dear life. I could try it---but I still haven't figured out how to turn on purpose, let alone to do it in the split second I would have before falling off the Ledge. I am years away from being able to turn that fast.

Someone else had some advice for dealing with closeouts: don't paddle. I'm not sure what that means. Maybe it has to do with getting the timing right.

I continue to think the Ledge problem could be avoided by getting my timing right, but fine tuning timing by fractions of a second is not something I'm advanced enough to do. Am I a fraction of a second too late, or too early?

Or is it something else entirely, as someone else suggested here: my weight not being on the right place on the board? Being too far back?

Preacher didn't seem to think that timing is the problem, but like most surfers, Preacher probably doesn't think very much about what he does, he just does it. Nor has any of the surf lessons I've ever had covered anything so advanced.

Well, I guess I just gotta go out there and figure it out by trial and error, but that hasn't worked yet, so why it would now, I don't know.

"So I throw my beer in Mick Jagger's face..."

2008-09-01T20:38:00.000-07:00

Sorry, I just like that sentence. I think it's the most satisfying sentence I've written on this blog.

Though it's not strictly true. And I haven't written it yet.

Read on.

Actually, this post is about women vs. surf culture, or so I see it.

And women win.

As it turns out, all it takes to shake up the Mafia-like ultramale macho surf culture (NYC version) is one woman who's not afraid to speak up.

No one's done that, as far as I know, until today.

No one spoke up last June (post of June 30, 2007) when Tim Hill threatened to have me beaten up in front of a crowd of surfers on the boardwalk.

Not one person said a thing this past Labor Day weekend Saturday when another of the brotherhood (the one I'd have least expected) punched me and knocked me down on the beach.

On Labor Day, at the end-of-summer party, with everyone hanging out and having a good time, the same guy, out of nowhere, threw a cake in my face.

Another surfer, one I don't know, someone I have literally said six words to in my entire life ("What kind of surfboard is that?") and who apparently hates me out of loyalty to Tim and the brothers, helped him to escape by distracting me, pretending to me concerned about getting me cleaned up. I knew something was up when this guy was suddenly paying attention to me after glaring at me with hate earlier in the evening.

His girlfriend, a 20-something young woman who's just joined the group this summer and has been warmly received, was genuinely concerned and came in the bathroom to check up on me.

A conversation earlier that evening along with others this summer had confirmed that this is a young woman of formidable intelligence.

I was kind of in shock but I think I expressed a sort of weary resignation, like, What can you expect from these guys, this is how they think it's OK to treat women, that is those who aren't young and hot, those who don't fit in the Surf Mafia. And this woman was more than smart enough to know she'd not always be young and hot (she is, believe me I've heard them drool over how she looks in a bikini).

I wiped the frosting out of my hair, along with some that she'd gotten on herself, and she went out to join the others.

But the next thing I heard was her voice raised so loud and clear that for a moment no one could hear anything else.

"Get your HANDS off me!"

She was yelling at her boyfriend and I saw he had grabbed her tightly by her arm, as if he were trying to force her to go somewhere or do something.

What follows I don't remember verbatim, but they are clearly having a fight and she is not going to shut up and be nice so we all can just go back to drinking and smoking pot.

"You don't do that to a woman, ever. You don't hit her, you don't throw things at her. It's not funny. It's not right."

In any other context in life, think about it: do these things even need to be said to adults!

She is angry not only about his putting his hands on her that way, but about what was done to me and even more than nobody is willing to stand up to the guys who did it and say it was wrong. Because of the stupid macho surf culture no one will. Because the asshole who did this can surf. Because they've all taken the Mafia oath of loyalty to each other and hostility to outsiders. Because the only women they recognize are those 1) surf aggressively/well 2) are "hot" 3) have a sexual connection to a cult member 4) in exceptional cases a family or close friend connection may be substituted for a sexual connection, i.e. Tim's cousin who is none of 1-3).

Right now this woman is angry enough to say what no one else will, and what I can't because there is no one who would support me. Or wasn't.

But you know what? One voice is enough, if that voice belongs to a group member. By the very logic of the Mafia surf culture, they HAVE to listen.

By that same logic, I know that this woman must, ultimately, of course, choose her boyfriend over me and solidarity with women in general, or she will be expelled from the group. That's not in her interest. Have I mentioned that her boyfriend bears an uncanny resemblance to Mick Jagger---the young Mick Jagger?

But in that moment she's not thinking about her own longterm best interest.

She's changed the rules, and I want to take the moment and run with it.

So I throw my beer in Mick Jagger's face.

Then his hands are on me. He's grabbing me, trying to pull me towards the staircase that leads downstairs to the street.

I can count on the fingers of one hand the times a man has put his hands on me with intention of inflicting harm, and just this past weekend I've added two more fingers.

Mick's trying to physically throw me out, so I yell at him as loud as his girlfriend did: "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!"

And now another woman's raising her voice: "NO FIGHTING at my party!" She's not a surfer. She could give a crap about the Mafia. She's a friend of the guy whose house this is. I met and talked with her at the last party. She tells Mick he's the one who'll have to leave, not me. She doesn't care if he's Mick Jagger in the flesh, he's outta there. And he is.

And after that it's quiet. Half the partygoers have disappeared. The rest of us continue what we were doing.

Later on, rumor has it, the woman tracked down the guy who threw the cake and slapped him.

Afterwards, I think back on the conversation I had with her roommate about the macho-ness of surf culture and its hostility to women. I think there are more people who think about such things than just me. I wish we could talk more and do something.

I think of the possibilities of even one raised female voice.

Before this shit happened, I was going to post about what a good summer this was. And it was, wonderful---literally, full of wonders. Full of music and roadtrips, new friends and reconnections with some I haven't seen in many years. To be tacky and cliched, joy and heartbreak (yes). Probably the only thing wrong with this summer is it turned out to be (judging by the events of this Labor Day weekend) about one weekend too long.

Surfing as surfing

2008-08-26T16:00:00.000-07:00

Today: sun, perfectly blue skies, friendly faces, north wind, good little waves all day.

What I wrote yesterday was bullshit.

Surfing is surfing.

Surfing as prayer

2008-08-25T15:02:00.000-07:00

Some days important, life-changing events or decisions are looming ahead of you, and all you can do is wait to see how they turn out. You've done all you can to make things come out the way you want, but the truth is that the outcome is not under your control. And if you surf more days than not, you'll be surfing on such a day once in a while.

On these days surfing is like praying. Each paddle, each ride is offered up to whatever god you believe in. You are trying not to think, or to only think only of the matters at hand...

...match the speed of the wave

...didn't get the popup on that one

...took off too late

...is that W.'s girlfriend? looks like her, no, it isn't

...yipes, I'm right over the sticks

...that was a nice drop

...what the hell happened on that wave?

...that guy is really good

...can't wait until the crowds are gone

...there! that was a good ride

but really, there is a huge stone in the pit of your stomach at all times that you can never forget.

You're really praying to god or the universe or whatever you believe in

...please let things work out OK.

Today was like (though not as bad as) the day I went out surfing when my cat was in the hospital dying.

I didn't get the answer I wanted to my prayers that day.

Turns out, I didn't get it today either.

NSSS vs. SSS

2008-08-24T18:51:00.000-07:00

Back at home, on a sunny summer weekend, surfing is like playing bumper cars again. It's hard to readjust. Yesterday when the waves were smaller it wasn't quite suicide going out, and I got some rides, but today, with bigger steeper waves and even more people, it was not fun. Two rides and a lot of pulling back when there was anything halfway decent because someone else was (or three people were) already on them. Anarchy is the only rule.

My original life plan was to eventually move down south, but I've liked it here so much for the past couple of years I've wondered whether I will actually move. I could change my mind. After experiencing both spots at the height of summer this past week, let's compare NSSS (Not So Secret Spot) in NYC with SSS (Secret Southern Spot) in an undisclosed red state.

SSS: Dolphins in the lineup NSSS: Trash in the lineup

SSS: "Are you OK, Ma'am?" NSSS: "If you get in my way again, Ima gonna fuckin' kill you"

SSS: Families on vacation NSSS: Drug dealers selling pot

SSS: 8-10 is a crowd NSSS: 50 surfers ready to kill for the same wave

SSS is a nature preserve, so you see wild animals.
NSSS is a ghetto, so you see wild humans.

Waves are equally crappy in both places, in my experience.

There is one advantage for the North, though:

SSS: You can't even buy a bottle of water on the beach, let alone food.
NSSS: Pizza shop delivers to the beach.

"Are you OK, Ma'am?"

2008-08-17T19:28:00.000-07:00

And the correct question for today's Jeopardy clue is: What is the correct thing to say when you run over a surfin' granny with your board?

"Are you OK, Ma'am?" is not something I have ever heard before in the water, but I heard it today.

Now you know I am not in New York.

No, that sentence could only be uttered down South, at my favorite SSS (Secret Southern Spot). I'm down here for a week for a much needed vacation.

I was out on a glassy small morning surrounded by teenage boys---this one had braces on his teeth. Our boards collided---his fault---and instead of yelling at me as a typical male New Yorker would, he asked about my welfare like a good Southern boy.

Which, to me, sounded just like "You're too old to surf."

Every woman dreads the M word. You never forget the first time you hear it applied to you. You look around---Who's he calling Ma'am?---then you realize it can only be you and that you've crossed that invisible line into middle age and have nothing to look forward to but decline and death. You hear that word and you realize that your life as you have known it is over.

Bad as the first time hearing it is, there needs to be a whole new level of badness for hearing it while on a surfboard. Any of you women had this experience?

Still, it was a very good day and I'm glad to be out of New York and not facing down the usual supects in the lineup. Even people who live at the beach need to go on vacation to other beaches sometime.

This is the first time I've surfed at SSS when it's been warm enough for people to be standing and playing in the shorebreak in front of the surfers. They seem unaware or unconcerned that a speeding board could hit them in the head at any moment. And when you ruin a good ride because they won't get out of your way, they just stare at you like deer in the headlights. It's enough to make me appreciate our beach's policy of keeping nonsurfers out of the surfing area.

Still, at home I wouldn't have seen dolphins dancing in the surf in a lineup of their own, eliciting oohs and cheers from those beachgoers lucky enough to see them.

When you do get rides here, you can get some that seem to go on forever, not like at home. I didn't get forever rides but I did get several long ones, enough of a taste to get me back in the water for a second afternoon session. I watched several surfers get those long ones, especially one Gramps who I remember from the last time I was here. They all seem to be either teenagers or Grampses, nothing in between, and no women over 19.

Surfing and aggression

2008-08-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

Almost exactly one year ago, on August 20, 2007, I wrote about a lesson surfing has taught me: There is no such thing as being too aggressive.

I still believe that, but today I had reason to wonder about the ways in which aggression is worked out through surfing.

I had a lot on my mind today, thinking about a business deal I was working on. I was thinking about how to make it go my way (to win, in other words). The waves were small and easy and I took wave after wave, ride after ride, surfing much more aggressively than I generally do. There were those who pulled back from me. I gained more and more confidence and just kept going. It was very satisfying.

The problem is, later that day I blew the deal I had been working on, unnecessarily---simply by not being aggressive enough.

Is it possible I misplaced my aggression and used it all up where it wasn't needed---rather than the surfing helping me later on to be as aggressive as I needed to be in real life?

That certainly seems to be what happened.

Listless waves, and Barney

2008-08-09T10:18:00.000-07:00

Today's session was pretty much the worst in months, but it wasn't me; it really was the waves. There really were none, and even in you managed to catch a ride on a fragment of a six-inch wavelet, it deposited you on the sand in about one second. Not fun, but there were a lot of people, generally clueless, trying and not doing much but bumping into each other, roller derby style.

Barney's back! See last summer's posts. I have actually missed this guy. Barney is an older gray-haired man, even older than me, and a total dork. Think high school English teacher, which is close to what he is, I think, and his real name I've forgotten, but Barney suits him. The thing that I like so much about Barney is that he is so genuinely, charmingly immune to the whole surf-culture, macho, competitive, aggressive thing. He's just out there doing his thing, being Barney, having fun, taking great pleasure in his small improvements, always smiling, always friendly. It's not so much that he doesn't care what anyone else thinks about him as it would never even occur to him to care.

Barney has sensibly limited his surfing this summer to the second, less crowded surfing beach twenty blocks away, which is why I haven't seen him. None of our local crew would even speak to him. But I like him. He's welcome here any time.

Where have I been?

2008-08-01T20:04:00.000-07:00

I have had a lousy summer cold for three weeks. After the last post, I attempted to go out again the next day. But the waves were head high and I felt even sicker. I gave myself permission to opt out of the session and be sick.

There've been no waves to speak of, anyway.

Today, with ankle high waves, was my first day back in the water. It was sunny and hot and so there were about twelve desperate people out. Including a friend of mine who appeared to be on crack and so was highly entertaining, spewing bodily fluids everywhere and generally acting like an eight year old retarded child. Yeah you. If you don't like my blog, stop reading it!

I had a great time, catching lots of waves and rides. Of course they only lasted one and a half seconds. It felt so good just to be back in the water.

I proved two things: One, I can still surf. Two (I had on a new suit): any bathing suit top, including one specifically marketed for surfers, can fall down in any conditions, even one foot waves. Why can't someone engineer something better?

After the popup

2008-07-15T19:08:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note (I'm exhausted, and fought a head cold to go out surfing today, but glad I did) to say I'm getting my popups and drops most of the time, it's what happens after that's frustrating. Staying on the wave, turning, keeping the balance.

It was great, considering how shitty I felt, to get a lot of compliments on my surfing today! (From non-Mafia members, naturally.) I actually heard from someone a compliment I've given to others such as W. (that's you, V.): "You paddle so well, I've seen you catch waves I never thought you could catch." A number of people have remarked on my paddling. I owe it all (mostly) to W. And someone who said "You're out every time I'm out" said he has seen me make great progress. I thought my rides today were short and crappy, but he thought they were good and pointed out that the closeouts meant no one got long rides. I actually got complimented on my drops! Me! Surfing with a cold, yet! But I knew I could do it and I did.

Hope I feel good enough to go out tomorrow.

A little help

2008-07-11T17:02:00.000-07:00

Let us pause for a moment to commemorate my 5th anniversary of surfing (or at least surf-related behavior): July 3rd. It happened to be a nonsurfing day spent in Manhattan (though I did watch a surf video).

Besides myself, only one other person took note: C., who's been yelling at me for a while in advance of my anniversary: "Five years and you still can't surf! Blahblahblah etc.etc."

But of course, he's wrong. I can.

Though yesterday you might not have known it. I took comfort in watching others and noting that everyone, even the good surfers, was having more difficulty than usual catching and riding waves. Why this should be was a mystery, because the wind was in the right direction, the tide was not too high, the waves were not too big. There was no obvious reason. I am sure there were reasons, but they weren't obvious. It was a day when the surf report promised much and the waves looked good from shore but turned out to be no fun at all.

Today they looked the same (good) but actually were. And I did well! I stood up and rode the biggest wave I've ever ridden! OK, it wasn't that big! But it was at least three feet! (I think).

Let me back up and say I had a little help. I paddled out near this guy whose name I can't tell you because I don't know it, and who probably doesn't merit a pseudoinitial because he will likely never appear in this blog again, but who I've seen out lots of times (and who has seen me out lots of times.) In fact he seems to know all about me, including my ill-fated surf lesson in the summer of 2006 which apparently some people are still talking about. (See post about Ben Sargent, June 19, 2006--the guy who promised a refund of my money if I didn't stand up and then reneged on that promise. Ben, you still owe me a hundred bucks.)

Anyway, he was kind enough to point out that I was sitting too far outside today and, once I started going for waves from closer in, to offer his advice. It was just to tell me why what happened had happened---but that is a huge, huge help. "You were paddling too fast and getting in front of the wave" for instance. Or---something I already knew but hadn't heard anyone verify---"You're afraid of the acceleration" (translation: I don't like going too fast) and "You fell forward, try standing back when you pop up."

I definitely was popping up today and doing it much quicker than I have been. I got the timing right many times. I was on top of the wave instead of behind it and as always, it feels different.

After that, though, I would sometimes stall out---just not go anywhere---without knowing why, and if I did get going, I would try to turn but would be unable; I swear the wave wanted me to go straight. It was the only way I could keep going and balance. (Yes, I know waves never want you to go straight.) By that time no-initial guy had drifted down the line so I didn't get his take on that.

It makes so much difference to have a little help, it makes me wonder how I would have fared if I'd had it all along. It's an interesting chicken and egg question: I am hated because I can't surf...or is it that I can't surf because I am hated? If the local surf mafia hadn't closed ranks against me about a year and a half into my surfing attempts, if instead they had been friendly and helpful, would I be where I am today, or would I have learned to surf better a long time ago? I don't know, I've so rarely had the offer of help from anybody I didn't pay for it...in part because for better or worse women are always looking to men for help in this sport, and I'm old and ugly instead of young and hot. There are a few exceptions, guys who have helped me out, and I've always eagerly accepted their help and learned a lot from it (even if they think I didn't). They probably did it out of pity, but who cares, that doesn't matter. They know who they are.

So thanks, no-initial guy. I had a great day today.

Not transferable

2008-07-01T18:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday and today I was forced to realize that my hard-won skills are not transferable to waves over three feet. For the first time in months, we had waves that were four feet with occasional larger ones.

And with the bigger waves come the better surfers and the larger crowds.

I regressed to my bad habit of hanging back in the bigger waves because I'm afraid of taking off too late and going over the falls. I didn't go over the falls. I caught a few waves. Yesterday I got up a couple of times, wa-a-a-y into the waves, but didn't do anything much like riding. By the time I got up, these fast waves were slow ones. Once, I got hung up on the ledge (see post of 1/31/08) and yeah, maybe now I could handle the ledge by standing up earlier, but I didn't dare, so I fell off the ledge and go worked in a way that is extremely bad for my back. (Still hurting as I write this.)

The waves were steep and fast. I watched the other surfers and counted the seconds: there were 10- and 11-second rides. That might not sound like very much but it's phenomenally long for our beach.

One funny thing is how even the decent guys, the ones I consider allies, turn into Neanderthals when the waves are bigger. No chatting, not even much smiling. "Out of my way, woman, I'm surfing," is what they are saying by their serious expressions and body language.

Today, a notch smaller than yesterday with bigger lulls that didn't require getting out by the jetty, I caught several waves. But they were so fast I lost pretty much all my popping up skills. A couple of times, I regressed to the knee. Other times, I did manage to stand up with a pop (I think) but lost my balance soon after because the wave was just too fast. On one, I think if I would have stepped forward I would have been OK. On several, I blew the takeoffs by, I think, being too late. Had a big shouting match with C. (well, he was shouting, I haven't got that much volume) regarding his opinion that I could not surf, would never learn to surf, and should not be anywhere near "his" beach. C.'s mouth keeps moving long after he has run out of anything to say so it was necessary to tell him, several times, to shut the f*ck up. This is run of the mill stuff at our break. It's not the first time it's happened and it won't be the last.

Through sheer determination, after several takeoffs in which I tried but failed to stand up, I finally did pop up and get something of a ride, but that was after almost two hours.

I've got a long way to go to get used to the speed of bigger waves and learn how to do on them what I can do on the smaller ones.

It's worth nothing that today I cancelled a doctor's appointment I had already cancelled four times in order to surf today. I have posted many, many times about cancelling appointments and getting out of obligations to surf, and about how most of the time the surfing turns out to be disappointing. (Once I even wished I hadn't cancelled a dentist's appointment to surf---or try to surf which is all I was doing at the time.) I wondered yesterday if I would cancel today's appointment, and hoped I had finally reached the point where rescheduling appointments and ditching obligations was actually worth it (because I could now surf well enough to have a good time). Well, it wasn't. I haven't reached that point---at least when the waves are "good" i.e. above three feet.

It's also worth noting (alas) that the "roll" I've been on in surfing and life in general for the entire month of June has ended with the coming of July. Bad surfing, aching back, car towed, parking tickets, money woes, friends growing more distant. Well, it was a good run and I have a feeling I'll get back on soon.

Surfing and music

2008-06-27T20:36:00.000-07:00

I know what you're thinking. What's with the long silence? Did I regress again and become too discouraged to post?

First, let me say there have really been no waves for over a week (as far as I know) and second, anyway, I have been out of town. I can state with certainty that there were no waves anywhere near Washington, DC. Here's where I was: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Labor_Arts_Exchange
an event very near and dear to my heart and one I heartily recommend. I had an absolute blast.
In between events at the conference, I had the chance to try out a couple of these, which can't be found in New York at the moment: http://fazioli.com/eng/modello_f228.php#f228
Playing Keith Jarrett on one of these is nothing short of a religious experience.

I played the end of the first movement of his (transcribed) Koln concert, which is entirely fitting because this is the piece of music that was playing in my head the entire first summer I started trying to learn to surf (2004). I love that piece to death---especially the rockin' parts. Some time after that summer, I can't say when but it might have been as long as a year later, I discovered the transcription and began learning it. I have to say it is one of the most difficult pieces I have ever attempted. It has taken me until now, summer 2008, to learn to play it properly. And I've only learned the first of the three movements---but that in itself is 35 pages. I got the end down not long ago, and it's the best, most joyous part of the entire concert. It sounds good on any piano, but on a Fazioli it is transcendent.

And finally: No. I did not regress. I had planned to take it easy today, recuperating and reorienting after the trip, but the waves were just too good. I had to go out. Yes, I did it again. If there's anything better than catching a perfect wave, it's having that ride witnessed and complimented by D., senior surfer, former surf teacher, friend and all around good guy. And other people did, too. "I saw the barrel of the wave right behind your board," is what D. said. And he congratulated me for not quitting given all the shit I've had to put up with, amply documented on this blog. I've been waiting a long time to hear that.

D. is also a musician. Would he rather play music or surf, I've asked him. No hesitation: play music. Which is more of a religious experience, Jarrett on Fazioli or riding a barreling wave? Well, that's a more difficult question to answer. Maybe if I were surfing big waves and getting long rides surfing would win. But I don't think so.

One more thing: No wetsuit today, Woohooo! This day deserves to be a national holiday like Turnaround Day.

What it's all been for

2008-06-12T19:05:00.000-07:00

What it's all been for, five years of struggle: this day.

One perfect day when it all comes together: Catching waves; popping up (really), getting up low and staying low; riding waves (really) the way they are meant to be ridden, with the power of the wave behind me, turning the board to go the way the wave wants it to go. It's fun in a way surfing has never been fun before. This is, finally, the real thing. I can do it.

And I do it again and again, I am a surfer; and it may evaporate tomorrow, I may backslide again, but today it is perfect.

In my mind somewhere is the image of the way I've seen others ride waves for five years, and I know I am doing the same thing. Surfing.

The next day, other people post eloquently on the local surf message board about this day. I am not the only one who felt it; though some feel the need to qualify their joy by saying "best small day," still what they are saying is best day in memory.

At the end of the day I feel exhausted, happily; I think I'll sleep early, but I can't sleep so easily; I'm still thinking about how it felt today. I'm too stoked to sleep.

And Surfline called it flat.

Flat. Not.

2008-06-11T15:42:00.000-07:00

I wasn't even going to check the waves today because Surfline called it flat, except that so many days that Surfline called flat were such fun, so I did.

And guess what.

Tiny clean little waves, and I got in on the last hour or so.

My Robert August, my real board, is back and got wet for the first time in three months, yay! I forgot how good it was. Yeah, I did OK on my backup board, which just shows how much better I've gotten; but this one catches waves so much easier. I just have to catch them earlier than I've gotten used to doing with the backup board.

So I got up and riding many times, and some of those times my timing was such that I was actually riding the wave instead of just catching it, popping up and not going anywhere. Riding the wave, as my surf advisors keep reminding me, is what it's all about. I think it's all in the timing; I wasn't really doing anything different on those waves where I stood up and stalled out than on the ones where I rode waves, except for the timing. (As far as I know; I could be wrong.)And we're talking miliseconds but they seem to make all the difference. If you're off by a milisecond there doesn't seem to be a lot you can do to make it right---or, a lot that I, at my current level, can do, anyway.

What fun! I loved that I was by myself for a long time because the others (who didn't listen to Surfline) were over by the jetty and I was getting as many or more waves than they did. I hoped they were watching!

Tomorrow's forecast: "Flat."

First weekend of summer

2008-06-08T14:57:00.000-07:00

The craziness has begun; it's the first weekend here that's really felt like summer. And I mean summer: 95 degrees and sunny.

That means, after a year of nonstop hard work, switching my brain into summer mode. It als means crap waves and crowds. Actually neither was too bad this weekend. And my streak of successful surfing continues. It's almost enough to make me think I won't slide back again. Saturday, even with only choppy sections to work with in the afternoon, I got good rides that other people noticed and complimented me on. I was as surprised as they were. And Sunday, on better waves but with much bigger crowds, I made all or most of my popups and got good rides as well. A lot of people were just congregating and socializing in the water, "having tea parties" as my old surf camp instructor put it ("You cannot have tea parties in the water!") which is fine for a hot Sunday afternoon; but I was all the way over at the jetty---Queen of the Jetty for the day---getting waves and rides. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think I detected a touch of respect in the lineup. Nahhh. Well, at least only one guy, who I don't know, snaked around me. My biggest enemy and one of the hood's top 3 assholes (read back a year for his name) stayed on the other side, five feet away but never paddling around me.

Ditto

2008-06-03T14:41:00.000-07:00

Another day like yesterday.

On a roll

2008-06-02T20:25:00.000-07:00

The heavens are aligned in my favor. For the past few days, I can do no wrong---everything is golden. Sometimes, not too often, this just happens. I'm not questioning it, just enjoying it for as long as it lasts.

I even checked the horoscopes in the paper today to see what was going on. The horoscope pretty much said I'm on a roll. (Of course, it was for Gemini and I'm Sagittarius, a small misprint.)

So, surfing today was a blast. The icy water and 80-degree sun were an invigorating combination. No assholes in the crowd, and a really cute young boy kept giving me friendly advice. I was like, Are you talking to me? He was, and to everybody else. It was a good (small) crowd.

And I got most of (not all) of the waves I went for, perfect waves for practicing popups, and a respectable number of rides. F-word again. Fun!

And it's summer, really summer, and I am off duty, so to speak, as far as work is concerned, for the duration. I could do this every day.

Re-Entry

2008-05-31T20:51:00.000-07:00

I'm back in New York, kind of discombobulated, but re-entry was smooth. Even the drive back was pleasant, 85 mph on the Jersey turnpike, playing Catch Up with the pickup with North Carolina plates (I eventually lost him) and singing at the top of my lungs with full confidence that no one could hear me.

Made it back just in time for a friend's birthday celebration. Ignoring the mountains of piled up cat poop til tomorrow, I kicked off the summer with my first frozen drinks at the summer-only bar. Sweet.

Then, sleeping very late, but still up in time for some tasty waves. First surf of the summer---ahhhh. The crowds! How I love to hate them. We've all now been restricted to a small surfing beach instead of being able to stretch out, and that goes til Labor Day.

I did OK on the waves, which were bigger than they've been for a while. I started out taking off too early, which I often do when the waves get bigger than two feet, but once I was able to get over that and take off later, I was good. Taking off later in general than I've gotten in the habit of doing is key.

The same ocean twice

2008-05-30T23:20:00.000-07:00

They say you never step into the same ocean twice. But apparently you can, at least once.

This morning I miraculously got a wireless signal, and the forecast was for something like waves at SSS, so off I went.

I get in the water---there's only one guy out---and as I get closer I am amazed to see it is A., who I met when I was at SSS last October. I mean, what are the odds of something like that happening? He's not a regular there, in fact had not been there since the last time I saw him! And I'm not exactly a regular either, having surfed there a handful of times in my life. So what are the chances of meeting again in the Atlantic in the exact same spot???

We spent a great couple of hours surfing the eight-foot waves, doing cutbacks and getting barrelled and doing, um, whatever you call those other really cool maneuvers.

And if you doubt this, well, we were the only two people in the water this day; that's my story and he'll back me up, and if you weren't there you can't say nothin'.

I mean, if two people can just miraculously meet up again in the middle of the ocean, anything can happen.

NSSSS

2008-05-29T18:27:00.000-07:00

Back at the Not So Secret Southern Spot: Virginia Beach. As before, too many people, too little waves. But hey, it’s my first time in the water on this trip!

The waves were hard to figure out (for me) and I got nothing, nada, rien for the first hour and well into the second. I thought very calmly: This is a crap session. I’m not even going to try to redeem it, because it cannot be redeemed. Not a nice dinner, not a new bikini, nothing will make me feel better. Not only is this a crap session but the whole rest of my day is going to be crap after this, I can feel it.

Having decided that, I could just relax and go for it.

The second hour, an overweight woman surfer came out. I note this simply because though all of us have been subjected to countless overweight male surfers, I have never seen an overweight female surfer before. (I. is very overweight but doesn’t count because she doesn’t surf, she only pretends she can.) And she was really good! She came out on a shortboard and got rides and hooted for herself! And that made me feel like crap even more, except that she was really stoked and nice and tried to be helpful to me and others.

So finally I was able to figure out that I had to try to get the waves later, even when they were ready to crash down on me and even later than that, when they had already broken. That’s what she and another guy were doing while most of the others were much farther inside waiting for the waves to reform. Once I figured that out I was able to get going. Not riding. Just, I was able to be propelled by the waves several times, then attempt to stand up and even stand up, but once I was up my board just stopped moving and I didn’t go anywhere. Partly this was because I was just really riding whitewater, partly because I was standing up way too late, partly because I took off at the wrong angle (I had no sense of the way the waves wanted to go and was just pointing my board away from the jetty the way everyone does at home).

Meanwhile, she and other shortboarders and also longboarders were getting nice long rides. For the millionth billionth time I felt like a retard, like I was clueless about some simple thing that everyone else in the word did without effort. It’s the same way I feel about sex, the reason surfing and sex are so inextricably linked in my mind (ah, but that’s the topic of my next book). I can’t help feeling that I could figure out one I could figure out the other. As for proving or disproving this theory, obviously I can’t, since I will never figure out either one, but I am as convinced as I have been of anything in my life that it’s true nevertheless.

Oh, and the rest of my day actually turned out to be very pleasant.

No waves at SSS

2008-05-26T15:01:00.000-07:00

Tank of gas: $40
Groceries and supplies at Walmart: $80
Not spending Memorial Day weekend at the same old spot: Priceless.

I've spent the holiday weekend at my Secret Southern Spot (SSS) and report that there have been absolutely NO WAVES.

But there's no waves at home either, and the weather is gorgeous here.

There's other stuff to do here, like pig roasts and hayrides and fishing. Having a great time.

The F-Word

2008-05-15T17:28:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm going to use the F-word, which I don't use often, or lightly.

Today was fun.

I got up and riding on my first wave. I didn't do a popup, but I got a ride. After that I kept getting rides, stopped counting at six. I got rolled a couple of times (that is, the back of the board went up and I somersaulted) but I was able to fix that by adjusting my weight. When I was catching waves well, I tried to concentrate on popping up. Most of the time I still did the knee thing, but sometimes I popped up---I think. How can I tell? Because I use my abdominal muscles, and because my hands are up in the air off the rails. If, when my feet are on the board, my hands are still down on or near the rails, I know I didn't pop up. But often, I can't tell whether I did or not. Even if I try really hard, I can't remember what happened once it's over. It's all over too fast, less than a second.

Once, I got that "on top of the wave" feeling I had about a year ago after a good surf lesson.

One thing that helped today was just taking a step forward after I stood up. It made all the difference in my balance. I think that when I land I'm generally too far back. I think.

What a difference, crowdwise, from yesterday. There were only three of us out, no one got in anyone else's way, we all got waves, and it was a cordial if largely wordless session. I didn't feel like, today, I surfed abominably worse than the others. The guy who was the best, who came out latest, stayed closest to the jetty, the other guy kept jockeying for a position next to him, and I kept ending up at the end of the line. It was a short line so I didn't mind, but it's funny how we ended up ranked by ability in a way that seemed accidental or careless, but wasn't. Let me try to get closer to the jetty and the less-good surfer showed me my place (but not in a hostile way).

Testosterone sea

2008-05-14T17:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the waves were head high. It was the kind of day good surfers live for. If they weren't in the water, they were at least watching from the boardwalk. Needless to say I did not go out but waited for the leftovers.

Everyone else was hungry for them too. The break was packed. And it wasn't an easy crowd. The jocks were over by the jetty as usual, not a woman in sight, and the testosterone was palpable. They were all dropping in on each other but then yelling and snarling at each other about it. I heard some words. It was friend-on-friend-style drop ins without the friendship.

I know I did popups on the board at least three times. But once I fell over immediately when I was up, once I tried to pop too soon and fell, and two times I got good, long rides (although straight in--hey, I can't do everything on the same wave).

A woman I know who can't popup up because of her back was telling me about an alternate method she uses to get up that works for her that doesn't involve knees; I am going to ask her to demonstrate it for me.

Today was strange in that the wind and waves shifted more than once in a way that even I noticed over the course of the two hours. Right in the middle, it got really good. I mean eerily good. I was suddenly pretty much by myself in the midst of the crowd, the waves were small and rolling, the sun on the water was beautiful. It was certainly one of those Be. Here. Now. moments. And it didn't last long. But just for that moment, it was perfect.

I had a lot of good learning waves today, and (does this correlate with the learning opportunities? the willingness to take more risks?) got worked. A lot. A lot more than usual. A lot more than you'd think from the size of the waves. On a wave where I should have turtled but didn't at the last minute, I did something to my hip that still hurts. Now I'm rubbed down with Bengay and ready for bed at 9:07 p.m. Hey, I'll get out early tomorrow.

Surf critic

2008-05-12T16:45:00.000-07:00

(Note: this is the one and only post where events did not actually happen on the date of the post. I've forgotten what day this was, and as you'll see, in this case it doesn't matter. Anyway, it was a while ago.)

Surfing is just as much a spectator as participant sport at our beach, and everyone's a critic.

As I was sitting copyediting my book, with pencil and paper easily to hand, I decided to keep score.

My motivation was partly boredom (do you know what copyediting's like?), but mostly, to try to bolster my hope that I am not the worst surfer at this beach with some hard facts.

My subject was a woman I know and like, who hasn't been surfing long, and who I have judged to be at the same level as me, approximately, at least on most days. She didn't see me as she was surfing way down the beach and I wanted to keep out of sight of the crowd.

So here's how this woman (about 30 years old, I'd say) did. I tallied each wave.

1. Too early.

2. Too early.

3. Too early.

4. Got it, got up a little bit late, hands up, got a good ride of about three seconds.

5. Too late. Wipeout.

6. Too early.

7. Too early.

8. Too early.

9. Borderline: either too late or slightly unbalanced, wipeout.

All this, I would say, took quite a bit less than an hour.

And then I was surprised to see that she got out of the water and sat down on the beach for a long time.

I don't know if she was getting tired, or discouraged, or giving herself a pep talk, or what. I kept hoping she'd go back in but she didn't. About 45 minutes went by. I never take breaks when I'm surfing. Occasionally a quick drink of water, but that's it. I go two hours straight.

Occasionally other surfers stopped to talk to her. Maybe she just wanted to do some schomoozing? Nothing wrong with that, especially on the first really nice hot day when you're seeing people you haven't seen since last summer. I am a big fan of schmoozing myself (but not in the middle of a session, only at the beginning and end).

At the point where I had finished my work, her board was still there, but she was nowhere to be seen. So I went in.

All in all, I think she surfed like me, which made me feel better.

Snaking

2008-05-04T16:47:00.000-07:00

Today I headed for the same spot where I was alone for a while last time. But I wasn't alone for too long. Soon a guy came out and, unlike considerate blue and white board guy, red board guy did not hesitate to paddle around me to claim the spot I had claimed. In other words, snaking. With only two people out.

I didn't know this guy. I almost said something to him. I didn't. Why not? I don't know. My thought when I saw him close up was, He's just a kid. He was, but what did I mean by that?

a) I shouldn't say anything to him because he could surf rings around me. (That soon turned out to be true.) But so what? The law of the jungle, best surfer claims the best spot? Well, that's the law of our jungle.

But then "he's just a kid" could also mean

b) I should say something to him because he needs someone older (more than twice as old) and wiser to take charge and inform him that his behavior is unacceptable.

Why not b)? Just because he knew how to surf and I don't?

Someone on a surf discussion forum once posted that old ladies (while rare in the lineup) are the best behaved, least troublesome surfers in the water. If by that he meant that we don't make trouble by speaking up when we've been dissed, then maybe us old ladies need to stop being so well behaved.

Coincidentally, later on I ended up having a discussion about snaking with a couple of other (good) surfers and they get snaked too, but they don't like it and don't take it. Snaking, they made clear, is not OK no matter who you are.

Does anyone have any ideas as to what I might say the next time I'm in this situation?

P. S. I got so many rides today, I didn't need to count them!

Zen and the art of surfing

2008-04-30T17:09:00.000-07:00

Forgive me for going a bit spacey and zen on you this post. It's been an unusually good day. I bought a columbine. I turned in my final (FINAL FINAL FINAL) manuscript. I saw the cover of my book for the first time. I got four and a half rides.

Talking and writing about surfing is immensely difficult, much like talking about pianos. Like I said a while back, I'm looking for a new piano. How to put into words what I experience playing different models (all extremely fine specimens), why I like some, why I don't like others? Words are such a crude approximation. What am I listening to, for? What am I hearing? What am I feeling? I can say, "The bass sings" or "The treble is bell like" or "The bass break is awkward" or "The treble doesn't project" but really, what I'm feeling is "I like to play this piano" or "I don't" or sometimes "I should like it but I don't." It's not a why question. I am very distracted by one particular piano I played last weekend. It is haunting me. I don't know why except that it has more soul than any other I've found. Plus there is just the tactile, physical part---I liked touching as well as hearing it, the feel of the keys. That's really important.

What can I say about surfing today?

It was the kind of day that could make me like surfing again, I knew that right off. The waves were small, it was sunny and there was no one out. All I had to do was stay out of the range of the fishing lines of the nearby fishermen. Nothing but me to stand in my own way.

"Alternately frustrating and exhilarating" as the commenter on my recent post put it so well can apply within a single day as well as day to day. I didn't catch a wave for long enough that I started thinking, I'm like a beginner, I can't do anything, I'll never learn, I need lessons...

And then at some point, somehow, I stopped: I was just playing.

It's not supposed to be work.

It's like the difference between practicing the piano and playing it. Practicing is hard work. Necessary, sometimes, but a very different experience than playing. That's why they call it playing.

Today, I didn't get out of the water to look at the clock on the church to see if it was time to go in yet only to be disappointed that it wasn't.

Today, I was able to stay in the moment. Being Here Now. All I focused on was the next wave, not the rest of the day, not yesterday, not tomorrow. That's the hardest thing to do but it's everything.

I've had a long run of bad sessions that dragged down the whole rest of the day and made me exhausted, emotionally and physically. I knew that this one, no matter what happened, wasn't going to do that because it was going to stay in its time---the here and now---and after that it would be done.

I caught lots of waves. I popped up once. I knew that because I felt it in my midsection. It was a movement that had nothing to do with the knees and not much with the legs.

More than two years ago, when I was in California, I was catching lots of perfect little waves and feeling the drop. I had the idea then that there is something that happens in that drop which makes it much easier to pop up. The trick, then, would be to catch that instant when it is easier. I still don't know if I was right or wrong about that, but today I felt like I was right. I recognized the instant that would have been that instant, if it indeed exists, and I tried to pop up in it. Most of the time it didn't work. I would get my hands down on the deck, the first step to any popup, but then---against my will---my knee would be on the board. I'd clamber up---I think some of the times I did this I got the rides. I think that when I knew I did the popup, and a couple of times when I wasn't sure, I didn't get rides...but it's all fuzzy, as usual.

If there is a magic second for popping up, it's because in order to pop up you have to push down with your arms---I do that even when I'm doing popups on the floor of my living room. That is definitely the second step, after getting your hands on the board, and feeling that drop makes it easier. (And of course it's not a magic second, it's a magic one-fourth of a second.)

I think. I really have no idea.

One of the fishermen caught a really big fish. One yelled and pointed out a seal right in front of me, but truthfully I couldn't see it.

A guy came out after me and I thought, Now my fun is over, because I was all alone at the jetty spot where I usually can't get close to because that's where all the really good surfer-machowavehogs hang out. I thought he would just position himself right in the spot where I was, a little closer to the jetty to show he was superior.

He didn't. He very considerately (is this possible?) positioned himself far enough away that we didn't have to fight over waves or even watch each other. No one ever, ever does this. Thank you guy on the blue and white board! My day only got better, not worse, because of you.

Surf haiku

2008-04-29T11:26:00.000-07:00

Over by the rocks
Wave hogs get ride after ride
Leaving us no scraps.

I too have a dream
One day we will surf in peace
Sharing all God’s waves.

One knee on the board
I struggle to stand up
Ass up, hands on rails.

Popup? What popup?
How can anyone pop up
On a speeding wave?

I’ve tried for five years
I’m old, cold, wet and tired
When can I give up?

Miss the wave again
Spray in the face worse than pie
Humiliation

One good ride

2008-04-24T09:04:00.000-07:00

Here is why you should always go in after you get one good ride:

Because you will spend the next 20 minutes trying to get out again, and 20 minutes once you get out waiting for a wave, and once you get it although you will try you be will too tired to even try to get up. You will have wasted 45 minutes, your stoke from the ride will have evaporated, and you will have accomplished nothing but getting yourself overtired, feeling like shit the rest of the day until you fall into bed at eight o'clock.

Today I stayed out an hour longer than usual, in the hope that I could duplicate that ride, but all I did was waste that hour.

I actually set a record today for earliest session ever; I was getting into my suit by 7:15 a.m., a miracle.

If I didn't have this blog I'm not sure I could tell you how many straight days I've been getting up early in the morning to go in the water. Let's see, Friday, Saturday, I skipped Sunday because it wasn't any good, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. That's six of the past seven days. No wonder I am so incredibly pooped. My back hurts, my shoulders ache. It's a hell of a lot easier to ski six days than try to surf. And it's out of sheer cussedness; every day's been a struggle.

Today probably had the best waves of the week. And I got two rides in the three hours. That's the best I did all week. One of them was shaky, unbalanced; the other was balanced and long, and I'm fairly sure I popped up on it, though how the hell would I know? I caught a lot of waves. I wasn't counting but probably at least ten. I was making most of my takeoffs. I had the feeling, which I haven't had in a long time, of the buttah takeoff; smooth, perfect. But even so once the board got going I simply could not think quickly enough of what to do. And the autonomic response seems to be to put my knee on the board and stick my ass up.

I'm still doing the popups in my living room. But on the living room floor there's nothing to grab onto the way I seem to grab onto the rails while attempting to stand up!

What was particularly embarrassing about today was that four extremely good surfers were out with me. Lots of hooting and hollering and woo-hooing, lots of long rides and barrels. All I could do was stay out of their way and hope they weren't watching me do my doggy-style pose. I wonder if they think about what I experience. (Nah.) It's so different from what they do that the single word "surfing" can't be used for both. I also wonder what my experience might be like if instead of staying away from them I asked them for help. It's too late for that now, I've got a reputation as a hopeless retard and an obstacle, plus I'm way too old, you' ve got to be young and cute to get guys to pay attention to you, but I hear that that's how other women learned to surf.

Four foot day

2008-04-23T09:40:00.000-07:00

I've been going out in bigger waves lately, I guess. I really don't do any better or worse on them, so what the hell. Today's were maybe four feet.

I am tired from so many straight days of surfing! But determined to go as many days as there as waves.

It was a bitch of a paddle out. I made the mistake of paddling out initially right in front of my house. I started out by one set of the wooden jetty spikes. I wasn't making it anywhere, but all the time I was trying I got swept further and further down to the next set of spikes. Yikes. Once I realized I was nearly on top of them there was nothing to do but get out, walk down the beach and start all over again. I finally got out. That was pretty much my accomplishment of the day, getting out in bigger waves than usual. There is nothing fun about getting hit by wave after wave after wave. Once I was out I just wanted to stay there rather than get in and have to paddle out again.

I got a wave, and managed to get up on it when it was about halfway over. I can't tell you how, but I think I used my knee.

The next time I asked myself, "What would D. do?" D. is the senior surfer at our beach, and he had told me to paddle out by the jetty. Most days it doesn't make any difference because the waves are so small. But today I should have taken D.'s advice from the outset. I paddled out by the jetty, and it was easy. I didn't stay there because the surf mafia was out in full force, three or four of them taking off on and riding the same waves.

I got one more wave, couldn't get up, and decided to call today a success because of getting out and trying on the bigger waves. I sure couldn't use the f-word to describe it.

Monday blues

2008-04-21T10:04:00.000-07:00

I hadn't planned on surfing today, but I checked the waves and they weren't bad, plus no one was out on this sunny Monday morning. Sometimes I think (no, I know) I use surfing as a way of putting off other stuff I really need to do and don't want to. I don't know if that's good or bad or just is. But I made up my mind that no matter what was in the background I was going out there with a good attitude and I would keep a good attitude.

I had about 70% success on that.

I tried to keep focus. Sometimes, if there's no one out, I even talk to myself---"almost got that one, too early" or "too late," like a coach. Why not. It helps.

The best advice I could give myself was that line from the late great Spaulding Gray, from his book or movie or both (Swimming to Cambodia). Be Here Now! Another life lesson from but not limited to surfing. The minute I started thinking about lunch or what I was going to do later on, a big set wave would come and I'd miss it and/or it would hit me upside the head.

In light of what I quoted from Surfing magazine two posts back, here's how I did today.

In two hours, I caught four waves. That's not counting one where I was too early but popped up to my feet, and one where I pearled. I swear, in the summer when the gloves are off I might try writing down what happens with each wave so I have an accurate record. I forget everything as soon as it happens. Couldn't write anything down today. But what I remember is:

1) couldn't even try to pop up

2) tried to pop up, was late and didn't even try until the wave got going, did better, got to my feet in a semi popup and fell immediately

3) I popped up immediately, even though I saw I would be on the Ledge. When the wave made the drop, I fell. This was the first time I have ever stood up on the Ledge instead of waiting til after the elevator drop. Not surprising that I fell---that's what I have thought all along would happen, duh. The question is how to prevent it. I have to give myself points for trying and doing something I've never attempted before.

4) Sorry, I've lost all memory of what happened. I got to my feet in some fashion and fell immediately.

So that's what happened in the one second of practice time I got in two hours today. (one-fourth second per wave)

I do vaguely recall that on one of the waves where I was standing for some reason I landed on the forward part of the board and was leaning forward instead of back (as I usually do) before I fell off.

After about an hour, a couple of other surfers came out. Damn. I'd been psyched to be all alone. I tried hard not to let them ruin my attitude. It's hard enough to short circuit a negative feedback loop when I'm alone (you know, when you do badly and then you start to predict that you'll do badly and then you do) but harder with others. There is definitely a negative feedback loop there: once other people see you doing badly you start seeing yourself as they see you and they treat you as if they expect you to do badly and then you do worse. Though I guess it would've been harder to do worse than I was anyway. Sometimes I can talk myself out of that (see last post).

It helped that one of the guys smiled and said hi and even started talking.

He and the other guy started catching waves and surfing and the old familiar loop started in my head: "It's not the waves, it's me, they're doing it, why can't I, I hate them and they're making me surf even worse, I hate watching them have fun, I'll never learn."

Still I was trying to keep up my good attitude. After about five rides in a short period of time the guy turned to me and said, "Fun little waves today."

At that point I lost it. As I said in the last post, like all human beings, I hate watching other people having fun when I'm not having any. I tried to smile and be a good sport but the best I could honestly do, since it was so obviously not fun for me, was, "I guess it's fun if you know how to do it."

He looked surprised, as if it had never occurred to him that people aren't born knowing how to surf, and said, with a heavy New York accent, "I just like being in the water."

Don't you hate how the people who say "I just like being in the water" are always the people who are actually surfing, not the people who are really just being in the water? No one really likes "just being in the water!" Not if that's all they can do!

At that point my good attitude was gone for good. All I could think of were the things I now still had to do today, made harder to do and in two hours less time by a crappy surf session.

He then said something about me pearling on my last attempted wave, so I knew he really had been watching and mentally evaluating me.

I just hate seeing myself the way other people see me. Even though this guy was not someone I know who's formed an opinion watching me flail year after year and so doesn't necessarily think, "Oh, here she comes again, why doesn't she just quit, she'll never learn and she's just in the way."

It's funny, my nonsurfing friends, who for the most part have never seen me in the water, think I'm cool and brave and wonderful for trying so valiantly to learn to surf. One even calls me her "role model". Of course, the image in their minds is of me riding a wave, not flailing around. They'd feel differently if they could actually see me. (One of them, bless her heart, saw me ride a wave in sitting down and said, "You did good, I thought that was what you were supposed to do.") Nevertheless, even though it's unrealistic, I try to see myself as they see me, not as the surfers see me.

Surf lessons from myself

2008-04-19T11:26:00.000-07:00

Today we were back to the small, crappy waves we're so used to around here. It wasn't as crowded out, not bad for a Saturday. There were only five people out at the jetty, so I decided to go there.

All guys again ("chick" applied once more), no one seemed to be with anyone else, not much talking. We jockeyed for position with what might be called, at other beaches and in other circumstances, plenty of snaking and dropping in. I kept trying to get closest to the jetty, so I wouldn't have to worry about getting hit by someone I didn't see going left, but someone was always paddling around me. Silently, and without stinkeye so it was hard to interpret. That used to be the best takeoff spot, but it usually isn't anymore, so there wasn't that much advantage to being there except that it is usually where waves are steepest on a small day like today.

I had a hard time getting waves at first. I kept thinking that all the guys were watching me not getting waves, and that's why they were paddling around me and taking off on the same waves as me, because they quickly wrote me off as a buoy. Does that really happen? I think it does, but I don't know. The thought was depressingly familiar: No one lets me get waves because I can't surf and I can't surf because no one lets me get waves and there is no way out of this conundrum. Even with only six of us in the water, I felt like I might as well give up.

I spent some time in this trough of despond. Then I just had to talk myself out of it. Four of the guys were people I didn't know even by sight so maybe they weren't paying any attention to me at all or purposely skunking me. The other one was someone I have, let's just say, very good reason to have strong and complicated feelings about. On the rare occasions I see him in the water, this never helps my surfing performance.

I had to shake all these thoughts off. Surfing teaches you, over and over, the irreducible lessons of life, like: Commit yourself 100%. There is no such thing as being too aggressive (a lesson that continues to serve me well in other contexts such as finding Manhattan parking spots, which now miraculously appear whenever and wherever I want them.)

By mid-session, I was getting waves. After a few attempts, I was able to get rides. I got the popup back, not every time but enough to show I can still do it. I moved closer to the jetty every time someone took off from that position. In short, I got my confidence back. I tried for and got more waves. I had fun. My guy went in at some point, I didn't immediately notice, and a couple others appeared.

God bless the two little boys, not more than eight or ten years old, who came out and were immediately friendly and not stinky at all, and whose obvious stoke even as the waves got crappier was contagious.

The myth of learning to surf (or, Where da popup go?)

2008-04-18T13:36:00.000-07:00

Good waves were forecast for today. A miracle: not the waves, but that I managed to get up around 6:15. Folks, I didn't even know it got light that early. Well, it does. And I think I got in the water the earliest I've ever been, before 8:00. I know, I know. Some of you can wake up and roll onto the beach. I don't do nuthin' without my coffee and my breakfast. I'm very proud to be out before 8:00.

Do you get the sense of how I'm being set up for gigantic disappointment? Here it comes.

First, more setup. The waves actually deserve the word "glassy." They're medium-size but gentle. The water could even be called blue today. The sun's out. It's on its way to 75, the warmest day of the year.

Did I also mention that I have been practicing popups in my living room for months? I've incorporated them into my daily routine. Everyone's told me to do this and I am doing it. I have gotten very good at popups in my living room. I do them every day before breakfast. I think I have no popup issues anymore like the ones you can read about in my archives here.

Here it comes.

I get out, catch a wave, and...it's like I've never done a popup at all. I cannot think of what to do with my arms, legs, etc. There is a second where I try to coordinate all these things, and I can't. I do the knee on the board, ass in the air, try to make my hands let go of the board and fail, fall thing.

The waves are good. I can't blame the waves.

But I'm finding it hard to catch them. How can that be, when they are good?

Not catching them kinds of feeds on itself, so that when I do catch one, I'm so surprised that it takes me longer to react, which makes it harder to try to do the popup (I think; I've always thought there's some kind of window of opportunity that makes it easier if you catch it at just the right time, but no one has ever confirmed that, so what do I know), and I can't.

Once I got on The Ledge again, another phenomenon which no one has ever been able to explain to me, and so I couldn't even attempt to stand up because I knew there would be a drop. After the drop I try to stand but it's impossible.

In the end, I spend much more time underwater than on top of the water on this beautiful day with fine waves. I swallow much more water than I'm accustomed to. On one wipeout I'm under so long I actually open my eyes underwater, which I never do. From underneath, the water looks brown.

In short, it's one of those days when you're miserable and more so because you have to watch everyone around you having fun. About as enjoyable as working in the "service" industry. Have you ever done that? I have. Something about constantly watching other people enjoy themselves while you're working hard and having none (whether waitressing or trying to learn to surf) grates on your soul.

I'm wasting my time, not learning anything, not having fun. I think for the five hundred thousandth time about how "learning" is an absurd word to apply to surfing. There is no such thing. It is impossible to "learn" something that happens in one-fourth-second intervals, simply because the mind cannot set down in memory anything that happens so fast, and so cannot analyze, interpret, repeat or learn from it. Most of the time I don't even know what happens on a wave or attempted wave; I'm underwater with no sense of how I got there.

And yet the fact is that people do learn to surf. And they do learn on this very beach, under these very conditions. I think of a woman who started the same time I did and learned in about a year and has been enjoying surfing all kinds of boards and waves for four years, while for me it's still a challenge just to stand up.

How can this be explained?

Lest you think I'm just a complaining, retarded spaz, I just read something in Surfing magazine that says what I've been thinking all along.

From an article titled Can Surfing Be Taught:

"One key to surfing's inherent unteachability lies in the way in which the human brain processes information. That complicated chunk of gray matter deals with what your senses are throwing at it on a number of different levels. Most normal stuff is processed through the frontal lobes, resulting in a seemingly unconscious, yet learned response: the thing we tend to call instinct or gut reaction. When something complex is happening to you very quickly, however, a thing called limbic response, controlled by a brain structure called the thalamus, jumps into action. It's a lot quicker off the mark than the frontal lobe, and its activation brings about a shot of energizing hormones, and the famed fight-or-flight response...

In a complex surf situation, like a late drop in on a heavy wave, you're either going to have a fight-0r-flight reaction or you're going to override it and incorporate the adrenalin into a gut reaction. Lots of surfing happens in a blurry mixture of fight/flight and unconscious trained response...

Now, the way in which most forms of sports training gets around this bastard is through repetition. A tennis player, for instance, can stand in a certain place in the court and strike more or less the same ball, over and over again, hundreds of times, while the coach looks on. The trained, seemingly unconscious response is etched swiftly into the brain.

But this isn't available to surfers. We have to make do with riding experiences that are so fractured and scattered it's ridiculous. Next time you surf, count how many waves you actually catch. Count how many of them allow you to do something similar. Three? Five? Imagine a tennis player being asked to learn by hitting five balls a day...and by the way, only when the tennis balls decided to show up."

Yet to say surfing can't be taught is not to say it can't be learned, and learned well, because people do learn, and in less than the 20 years it seems it will take me just to figure out how to turn (by which time I will be well into my 60s, so why bother). Why?

And even the good ones seem to concur with me and Surfing about the ineffability of it all.

To quote V., a male surfer of my age who has been doing it a long time and is very good:
"It's day-to-day."