4-13-06 Dead Arms, Live Ocean
Surfing before work… it’s been a while.
I found the beach pass in my wife’s van. Who knows how long it’s been there. I haven’t used it since at least before February. And, I noticed that the expiration date I though would never come is getting closer.
“What exactly does this mean” I asked the girl at the state park entry booth, “When May is the month with the cut out in it?”
“It means you’re good through May and you need a new one on June 1st.”
I was relieved. OK. So I’ve still got time. I’m sure that the thing has paid for itself twice over already, but I’d like to get a few more in before it expires, it being my first beach pass and all.
It wouldn’t surprise me if I’d missed the entire month of March for surfing. I’ve been following the Surfrider rule about not going for 72 hours after a significant rain, and I think it rained just about every 73rd hour throughout March. Brett and I met at the beach about two weeks ago, having found a day that should have been clean, but it was so cold and small and high tide that we just stood on the cliffs for an hour and talked like the old guys do.
So, when I got to the water this morning, I clearly realized two things. Number one: that water is pretty cold if you haven’t been in it in a month. Number two: I’m fat. And, I’m not talking fat spelled P-H-A-T like it’s a good thing. I’m talking fat, gordo, supersize and super lazy.
It all started at Christmas time, with all the candy in the office. Then, as we got into the New Year, I started surfing less and enjoying ice cream more. By late January, I was keeping a barrel of mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer at all times. By February, I was tapping it every day. Then, while watching an episode of Seinfeld featuring ice cream sundaes, I added chocolate syrup, whipped cream and maraschino cherries to the standard stock list. After all, if on is to enjoy a good bowl of ice cream, one may as well enjoy it with whipped cream, chocolate syrup and a cherry on top, right?
And, if one is not spending one’s morning’s surfing, what should one do? Well, I’ve taken up meditating. That’s right, meditation. Hey, it’s great for my spiritual condition, my serenity, my peace of heart and mind. But, let’s face it folks, meditation is the art of sitting on one’s ass. So, in addition to not surfing, and single handedly supporting the Haagen Daas company, I’ve been practicing sitting on my ass for extended periods of time without so much as moving a muscle. I can sit on my ass and do absolutely nothing for a solid fifteen minutes.
My arms hurt almost instantly.
Fortunatly, the conditions were perfect for a fat, out of shape louse on a longboard. The sets were chest to head high and only came about every eight to ten minutes. This gave me plenty of time to mosey out to the line up, pant and gasp, sit up and catch my breath, and then catch a fine wave. I actually caught my three wave quota in three successive sets and was feeling pretty good. My alarm went off as I was searching for a fourth, signaling time to get out of the water.
Then I saw him. A seal. He was just inside a breaking wave, his ugly little head poking out of the water like a groundhog or rat, moving from side to side and coming right for me. My first thought was about sharks, who love to eat these guys. Then, I remembered that the seal himself is no pleasant friend of man. I splashed at him, but he kept coming right for me, at a good pace. He got to within a foot of the end of my board, and I hollered.
“Hey man, get away, I’m afraid of you!”
I, of course, instantly realized what a little girl I must have sounded like (and quickly therafter checked to see that nobody heard), but it seemed to work. His head dipped under the water and I saw his shape moving away.
The next thing I saw was a dorsal fin, which made me think of those sharks again. But, not for long. A dolphin breached about 10 yards away from me. Then, another one breached, then another. All in all, there were about a dozen or more dolphins. They all swam through were I was. By this time, I was laying on my board, just hoping that one didn’t decide to jump out and over me, knocking my head off. Some passed in front of me, some behind. There were blow holes on all sides.
“That’s it.” I breathed when they had passed, “I’m outta here.”
Dead as my arms were, I didn’t wait for a wave but paddled in.
So, now that the ocean has welcomed me back in freshman hazing style, I’d better keep going. I’m slated to meet my friend Steve at the cliffs tomorrow. Who knows, maybe the pelicans will try to scare me off.
I found the beach pass in my wife’s van. Who knows how long it’s been there. I haven’t used it since at least before February. And, I noticed that the expiration date I though would never come is getting closer.
“What exactly does this mean” I asked the girl at the state park entry booth, “When May is the month with the cut out in it?”
“It means you’re good through May and you need a new one on June 1st.”
I was relieved. OK. So I’ve still got time. I’m sure that the thing has paid for itself twice over already, but I’d like to get a few more in before it expires, it being my first beach pass and all.
It wouldn’t surprise me if I’d missed the entire month of March for surfing. I’ve been following the Surfrider rule about not going for 72 hours after a significant rain, and I think it rained just about every 73rd hour throughout March. Brett and I met at the beach about two weeks ago, having found a day that should have been clean, but it was so cold and small and high tide that we just stood on the cliffs for an hour and talked like the old guys do.
So, when I got to the water this morning, I clearly realized two things. Number one: that water is pretty cold if you haven’t been in it in a month. Number two: I’m fat. And, I’m not talking fat spelled P-H-A-T like it’s a good thing. I’m talking fat, gordo, supersize and super lazy.
It all started at Christmas time, with all the candy in the office. Then, as we got into the New Year, I started surfing less and enjoying ice cream more. By late January, I was keeping a barrel of mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer at all times. By February, I was tapping it every day. Then, while watching an episode of Seinfeld featuring ice cream sundaes, I added chocolate syrup, whipped cream and maraschino cherries to the standard stock list. After all, if on is to enjoy a good bowl of ice cream, one may as well enjoy it with whipped cream, chocolate syrup and a cherry on top, right?
And, if one is not spending one’s morning’s surfing, what should one do? Well, I’ve taken up meditating. That’s right, meditation. Hey, it’s great for my spiritual condition, my serenity, my peace of heart and mind. But, let’s face it folks, meditation is the art of sitting on one’s ass. So, in addition to not surfing, and single handedly supporting the Haagen Daas company, I’ve been practicing sitting on my ass for extended periods of time without so much as moving a muscle. I can sit on my ass and do absolutely nothing for a solid fifteen minutes.
My arms hurt almost instantly.
Fortunatly, the conditions were perfect for a fat, out of shape louse on a longboard. The sets were chest to head high and only came about every eight to ten minutes. This gave me plenty of time to mosey out to the line up, pant and gasp, sit up and catch my breath, and then catch a fine wave. I actually caught my three wave quota in three successive sets and was feeling pretty good. My alarm went off as I was searching for a fourth, signaling time to get out of the water.
Then I saw him. A seal. He was just inside a breaking wave, his ugly little head poking out of the water like a groundhog or rat, moving from side to side and coming right for me. My first thought was about sharks, who love to eat these guys. Then, I remembered that the seal himself is no pleasant friend of man. I splashed at him, but he kept coming right for me, at a good pace. He got to within a foot of the end of my board, and I hollered.
“Hey man, get away, I’m afraid of you!”
I, of course, instantly realized what a little girl I must have sounded like (and quickly therafter checked to see that nobody heard), but it seemed to work. His head dipped under the water and I saw his shape moving away.
The next thing I saw was a dorsal fin, which made me think of those sharks again. But, not for long. A dolphin breached about 10 yards away from me. Then, another one breached, then another. All in all, there were about a dozen or more dolphins. They all swam through were I was. By this time, I was laying on my board, just hoping that one didn’t decide to jump out and over me, knocking my head off. Some passed in front of me, some behind. There were blow holes on all sides.
“That’s it.” I breathed when they had passed, “I’m outta here.”
Dead as my arms were, I didn’t wait for a wave but paddled in.
So, now that the ocean has welcomed me back in freshman hazing style, I’d better keep going. I’m slated to meet my friend Steve at the cliffs tomorrow. Who knows, maybe the pelicans will try to scare me off.
posted by travinator @ 3:55 PM
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