Arms and The Heart of Localism

My arms are killing me.

I am so sore that the fatigue is affecting my whole body.

I guess a winter’s worth of rain and six dollar burgers had done me in. I simply wasn’t in any kind of shape to handle the awakening of surf conditions that has ripped into the middle of March. The week of 3/7 to 3/14, I’ve been out every day, in some of the biggest surf I’ve seen this year.

Of course, the swell attracted the attention of the media and the surfing elite. The Orange County Register carried pictures of big surf around the county. I heard reports of camera crews filming at Tressles. Surfline has photos of the swell hitting HB, Newport, and some of the spots in Ventura like Rincon and the point.I surfed at HB every day but Sunday (3/13), when I surfed at Silver Strand in Oxnard.

Actually, the Silver Strand story is probably one of it’s own. My wife and I were in Oxnard on Saturday for a conference, and stayed in a hotel up there on Saturday night. I had originally not known precicly where the conference or the hotel was, but brought the longboard with the intention of paddeling out at Ventura’s surfer’s point.

At the front desk of the hotel, I asked for a map to the beach, and the nearest beaches were Hollywood by the Sea and Silver Strand. I though about Silver Strand. It seems like any time I‘ve read any stories on localism, this beach’s name came up. Judging by it’s press, the spot is notorious for some bad attitude locals. I hesitated in even going there. I was alone, riding a longboard that I’m not too confident with. The morning was dreary and cursed with a light morning sickness breeze out of the west. But, I decided to at least go LOOK at this place, and judge if it was worth trying.

At the risk of possibly echoing what defenders of localism must have repeated coutless times, I can completely understand why silver strand locals may feel protective of the spot. It really is quite small, and would not support a big crowd. It’s a beach break, encompassing a span of no more than several hundred yards between two rock jetties, both of which are harbor inlets. Small fishing boats and recreational boats traffic the area constantly, giving one the feeling of surfing in an east coast fishing town. On the morning I was there, the wind was cool and uncomfortable during the long inconsistent lulls between head high sets of three or four waves.

For the most part, the morning was miserable. But, when the set waves came, I could see the potential of the place to really shine. On the morning I was there, the set waves were breaking in two main sections from the north rock jetty. Right at the jettie, there was a peak for a big right, which pitched out nicely, even under the onshore winds. A second peak was working, with a fast left and a longer right. This is where I set up, triangulating the peak with a few landmarks during the lulls. I managed to get one good drop on a left, and a few solid right rides during the sets before I got out.

There were only a dozen and a half people in the water, working the two peaks. About half of them were longboarders, waiting out further and having a lot more success. Inside, the gang of shortboard riders picked up late drops into the faster sections of the waves. I did see some very fun looking shortboard rides on the left drop. One guy, in particular, who I had waited next to for what seemed like an eternity, caught a left two waves before me that looked great, from the back at least. I asked him after the set.

“Did you get that left?”

“Yea.” He grinned. “It’s a good thing, too. I was about to give up hope waiting for one.”

I caught a wave, and rode it in to shore, looking at my watch and deciding to get beack to the hotel. My wife and kid would just be waking up. Changing in the parking lot, I noticed that the sand was much more fine than most beaches. It was sticky, clinging together. My wetsuit and booties were covered with the stuff as a rolled them up and stowed them in the mini van. I struck up a conversation with one of the locals.

How was this place earlier this week.

“You know, I wasn’t here. I was in San Diego. “

“Oh yea?”

“Just happened to be down there. It was working good. These guys said this place was working real good, too. That thing hit everybody. I heard there were camera crews at Swami’s, and everything. What a zoo. Crowds were everywhere.”

“Don’t need to tell me. I was in Huntington.”

“Exactly.”

“Where did you go out in San Diego?”

“Sunset cliffs. It was pretty good, man.”

“I’ll bet. Where do like to go there? At the college, or further up?”

“I go right at that college parking lot. That place is great. “

“My folks live down there. I got to surf it for Christmas. I like the break that’s further up the road at the big rock covered in bird shit.”

“Yea. I know exactly where you mean. That whole place is great. I just don’t like all the local assholes, you know. There’s some guys with some heavy attitudes there.”

“Funny. I’ve heard the same thing about this place.”

“Yea.” He laughed, realizing the great hypocrisy I must have perceived. Here’s a guy complaining about attitudes, while standing in the parking lot of a spot that put localism on the map.

“Nah. You’ll be alright here. I mean, if you’re alone, and you’re mellow, you’ll be fine. Most of those guys are the old guys, anyway. Actually,” he chuckled. “Today, the guy with the biggest attitude out there was probably me!”

“This place – “ he told me, looking out at set coming in, “This place gets it all. It’ll hold up to triple overhead, and it can get REALLY good.”

“I’ll bet.” I said. And, I wasn’t just saying so. The inconsistent waves that were coming in on that crappy morning were as good as a find day at Huntington. If this place could hold a swell to triple overhead without turning to a walled mess, that would be something to see.

I had finished strapping the board to the mini van, and wished him a pleasant day. He waved me off with a smile.

“Yea. Take it easy, bro.”

Actually, there had been two guys hollering at each other in the water when I first arrived. Nothing had become of it. And, even from my position as a totally neutral outsider, it was pretty clear who the asshole was.

But, one of the uninvolved guys in the water, making eye contact with another uninvolved surfer, summed up my attitude pretty well.

He shrugged. “Hey.” He said. “ I just come to surf.”

That’s been my philosophy. When in doubt, just surf. Obey the rules, give up waves when you should be giving up waves. Take waves when you know you can take waves. Be nice and avoid problems. More often than not, people won’t get pissed off at you if you never give them a reason to get pissed off at you. It’s worked for me so far.

And, now I can say that I’ve surfed Silver Strand.

(Not to mention the evil San Diego Sunset Cliffs – which, I have to say based on my very limited experience, is worse. Some of those guys out there really WERE dickheads.)

March Madness

Yesterday, 3/9/05, was fun. CDIP was showing 5-7 feet in HB, but the tide was really high. So, I brought the longboard, and figured that I'd take a look. As it turned out, it was pretty inconsistent. The sets were overhead, but seldom. But, being inconsistent is a good thing at Huntington Beach north of the pier. It means that it's possible to paddle out.

I made it out, and waited for waves, which were fun when they came in. I made my three wave quota.

On one hand, I wished that I had brought one of my other boards. The 7'6" would have been perfect, with the right combination of paddling and maneuverability. I could have brought the 6'8", too. I would have had to work harder to get into the high tide mush, but there was plenty of power behind the waves to do so.

On the other hand, it was good to have the longboard on a solid day to learn how it rides. I've only had the thing since the middle of winter, and am still a bit shakey on it. It sure is different to try to maneuver a longboard around on a bigger wave. Even my 7'6" is a quick little scooter compared to the muscle it takes to make a good bottom turn with the 9 footer.

This morning 3/10/05, I brought the funboard and a camera. The funboard was for surfing, and the camera was for not surfing. CDIP's 3 a.m. report had shown spots of Huntington Beach at 9 + feet, which is too big for me. I figured that the swell was dropping, and it was high tide, so I might be able to paddle out. But, if not, I could take pictures of the big waves coming in. I could use some good photos to do some tracings of anyway.

On the freeway, I decided to drive straight to Newport, because it would be smaller. I went to the river jetties at 56th street, and walked out on the sand. The waves were chest high or a little better at the sets, but the water was really gross. It was brown and nasty, still full of shit from the rains and the sewage. It stank.

I was still pretty early, so I jumped bak in the truck and drove to 17th in Huntington. There were bigger waves, alright, but they looked like they were could be surfed, if one could make it past the inside whitewater.

20 minutes later, I left 17th street, driving my truck while still wearing my wetsuit. I had not made it past the inside whitewater. Of cause, neither had anyone else. There were a few guys trying to paddle out, but all of us were caught inside. I had drifted two lifeguard towers in 10 minutes. I made the decision that if I got our and drove south a bit, I could catch some surf without all this punishment.

I drove quickly and parked on the curb just at the south end of the Hilton hotel, hopped out, and ran straight out to the water.

A guy was getting out with a broken leash. "There's some heavy sets out there." He said. He was right, from the look of it. But, then again, the inside whitewater was significantly less menacing. I paddled around for a while. The sets were big and scary, and it took me a bit of time to round up the balls to commit to one. But I finally did, and took a straight line drop down a nice overhead set wave. The water crashed behind me, and I bent my knees to absorb the impact and continue on in to shore.

Depressing Writer

Dear Readers,

On the best days, I think there are a whole three of you, so if I happen to break out in Spanish, I plan to use the familiar "tu" form with you. (OK. I admit it. I stole that joke from Larry David.)

Well, If you read this blog over the summer, then you know that I went surfing for 116 days in a row. You also know that I wrote a whole lot about it, and about whatever else was on my mind at the time. You may also know that I ripped most of the old blog down to edit it, organize it, and pull it all together into a manuscript (hereafter referred to as "the book") that I could then go out and - with only the finest intentions, min you - sell out this beautiful pure sport for the biggest fucking glob of cash I can get my greedy fat hands on.

So, I went to the library, and looked at a couple of reference books for writers hoping to sell their handiwork. These books are very discouraging. While they are full of helpful advice for aspiring writers, they are also full of warnings. Aparently, the entire publishing industry is full of assholes and hustlers. This book, that the writer has put so much effort into, will, at best, be opened, looked at for a moment, and then trashed. If it has sentences with as many comas as that last one, the editor will spit on it, wipe his ass with it, then call the writer.

"Hey. I loved your manuscript. Why don't you send it to this copy editor that I know and get a referral kick back from? Then, we'll do business, babe. You're gonna be a star."

To avoid getting shafted by editors, writers can hire agents, many of whom are paid to shaft the writer harder than any editor could, but some of whom are invaluable. In either case, for non fiction, the writer starts with a "proposal". (For fiction, the writer simply sleeps with somebody, as it seems fiction writers get shafted far more frequently and much harder..)

The standard package that aspiring non fiction writers send to publishers or agents in the hopes of getting their non-fiction books on the shelves is called a "proposal". The "proposal's" cover letter is a "query". I did a google search on "nonfiction proposal" and clicked on the first reasonable looking link.

So here are the guidelines that I found. I stole them from some guy's website and am not giving him credit. Go ahead, pal. Find me. Come and get me.

THE QUERY
*Keep it to one page.
*Mention any connection you may have with the addressee.
*Give the work's approximate length, the target market, and the estimated completion date (if you're not done with it, yet).
*Toot your own horn... (i.e., The award winning author of so many short stories) Publication is publication. Mention it.

THE PROPOSAL
1. Title page. Consists of: Title of proposal, Name, Address, Agent name, Phone number, e-mail address. (That's ALL!)

2. Resume. If you have an impressive resume, put it after title page. If not, put it in as the last page of the proposal package.

3. Table of Contents. This is for the proposal and _not_ for the proposed book. For example, Overview--- page 1, Market and Competition---page 2, etc. Make sure your name and the title of the book show up on this page.

4. Overview. Very important since it sells or rejects the book. Usually the overview should start with a three-line, high concept description of the book. In our proposal for

5. Market and competition: Tell what other books of this type are out there and why this one is different. Do research. Tell them exactly what's out there, including author names, pages, years of publication. They may very well know, and they'll be impressed with your knowledge of the market.

6. Specifications: Your vision of the length, format, layout, number of chapters, pages, illustrations, and special organizational schemes. Guestimate! Make it sound like you know.

7. Promotions and author bio: ways to market it. Associations, newsletters, conferences. Where and how YOU can help. Be an active resource. Also, list your expertise on the topic. Professional, vocational credits.

8. Outline:explanation of each chapter, with a breakdown of how many pages per chapter. The rule of thumb: for every page in the chapter there should be one sentence of description in each chapter section. (We believe you can get away with less, however.).

- - - - - - - - - - -

So, dear reader, tu y yo are going to go through this together. Starting now, I'll just blog the whole damn process of putting this together. Why, you ask?

Hey. Why not?

Draft Overview and Market Analysis Verbage 03-08-2005

People love surfing. It is an amazing phenominon that Middle America and northern Canada consume beach culture with nearly the same passion as the California coastal metropolis that generates it. Since the Gadget and Beach Boys era gold rush to beach culture, the imagery of surfers riding waves has become a

The beach fashion industry leader, quiksilver, recently surpassed $1 billion in annual revenues. CEO Bob McKnight, speaking at an industry conference, described the appeal of surfing. "Nearly everyone can relate to moving water."

Surfer magazine, the sport's longest running monthly, distributes 102,000 copies every month. They also claim a high "pass along" rate, wherein seven people browse the average issue.

According to the magazine's media kit, industry research estimates 2.5 million active surfers worldwide, having grown 43% in the last 16 years, and 11% in the last year.

Surfing has never been more popular than right now. The recent summer blockbuster "Blue Crush (2003)" grossed XX in domestic box office. The genre of the surf movies is revitalized, with films such as Dana Brown's "Step Into Liquid" and Stacy Peralta's "Riding Giants" reaching mainstream audiences.

Most of surfing's appeal is to youth. Surfing Magazine, the industry's second most popular magazine, claims that 79% of its readers are full time students.

The vast majority of surfing literature falls into three categories: (1) memoirs of professional or "legendary" surfers (2) Glossy "how-to" books and surf guides (3) coffee table books on surfing culture. However, works outside of these categories, such as Duane Daniel's "Caught Inside", "Captain Zero" and Ken Nunn's surf-themed crime fiction, are some of the surfing bookshelf's most treasured pieces.

sources: Surfer Magazine Media Kit 2005, Surfing Magazine Media Kit 2005