Anti-Tudor style

I must have been inspired after finding that Joel Tudor photo because this morning I was walking as much as I could. Of course, my face and stance were not in that classically relaxed Tudor pose, my expression and carriage were what could probably only be described as "OH MY GOD!!!"

No, seriously, only the first wave was like that. Then I realized how fantastic Doc turns. Doesn't matter where I am on the board. Also, I'm really good at walking backward on the board in a hurried panic, so there's virtually no idiocy if I'm already on the wave. Most of my kooky moments came today at the end of the session, when I was tired and took off on steep waves without paddling enough.

PS. Humming tune today: "Mona Lisa"

Monday morning wave... on Thursday

Jack English photo of Joel Tudor.

I was just cleaning up some of my folders and I found this image that I saved from my "Monday Morning Wave" email from Surfer's Path Magazine.

I could look at this photo forever.

Saturday, Sunday, Surprising!

Surprise! I surfed two days in the row for the first time in I don't know how long... 6 weeks?

Surprise! The waves were okay Saturday when the tide dropped a little during the second shift. But the vibe was great because the sun was out and it was nice to see faces I hadn't seen in forever. I think everybody felt the same way because we were all clumped together on the same two peaks even though it was breaking in the same weak way all over the beach.

Surprise! Sunday, we had mopey faces seeing the on-shores and the high tide at 8:30am, but once we dragged ourselves into the water it ended up being really fun! The waves died on the inside and you had to really work to stay in it, but it was good practice for me. I left early only because I had the boy and the dog waiting for me in the parking lot, otherwise, I might have stayed longer. I actually didn't notice how cold the water was because I was having so much fun!

This week the high tide remains at dawn patrol, so I don't think I'll be surfing before work until later in the week when the tide swings away.

PS. a propos of nothing...
Saturday's whistling song: "Yellow Submarine"

Surfed, cold, tired

The sun was out and I saw some pals I hadn't seen in a long time.

Looked at it,

Drove home.

Yesterday, too.

Hopefully tomorrow is not "lather, rinse, repeat."

Am I an Environmentalist or Egoist?

I was willing to take a chance on okay surf conditions tomorrow (hopefully no rain, some swell, and not much storm bump on the water), but then I read
this article about a former game show host who died this morning in a plane crash in the ocean just south of the Santa Monica Pier close to where I usually surf.

I immediately thought, "Great. More petroleum chemicals in the ocean to irritate my sinuses."

Then I thought what a bad person I was to have that be my very first thought.

Oh, yeah...

So that's why I surf. I'd almost forgotten; it's been so long.

I went to bed relatively early last night with the intention of getting in the water no matter what. If it was shorebreak, I'd paddle. If it was flat, I'd paddle. If it was windy... you get the idea. Lots of false starts with my alarm this morning. It was set for 6am and I woke up to all the disturbing in-depth news Amy Goodman could tell me on KPFK. I had a vague thought that there was plenty of light to already be in the water if the temperature was 65 degrees, so SNOOZE.

Nine minutes later, I assessed the light and my bladder. SNOOZE.

Nine minutes later, I actually sat up. Still waffling. And cold. I buried myself back under the down comforter and flannel sheets. SNOOZE.

Nine minutes later, my brain was actually awake enough to guilt me into getting up. Or maybe that was my bladder that did the trick.

At the beach, I did what I told myself I wouldn't do. I went to the end of the boardwalk and looked at it. Mushy, shifty. I'm goin' home. Frank's suiting up with a student in the parking lot. I reconsider and continue staring at the water. How cold is that water? I'm goin' home. Gloved Guy just got an okay inside wave. I reconsider. It's been almost a month since I last surfed, do I want this to be my comeback? I'm goin' home.

This inner dialogue goes on in my head for about ten minutes, even while I'm heading back to the car. For some reason, I suit up and head out. And I'm glad I did. Yeah it was cold, yeah there were lulls, yeah it was mushy. But every so often there'd be a nice peaky wave with lots of oomph and a surprising shoulder. My first wave opened up to a shoulder I couldn't believe. It flattened out in sections, but I actually remembered how to turn Doc and keep him in trim to find the nice fast pocket again. Oh yeah... I forgot how good that felt!

(It's like when you don't have sex for a while and you forget to miss it?)

My second wave was a weird one that spat me out a little just after my pop-up. I was surprised to literally drop. I think the thing bounced or hollowed a little, or both and my board lost some contact with the water. Luckily I kept my balance and was able to come back up a little, but my bad habit of dropping too far was remembered.

Then I took a series of close-outs that were just fun.

Through the lull, I watched a seal harass the boys. It tickled the feet of the Architect, but the seal REALLY liked Gloved Guy.

My time was close to up, so I paddled away from the crowd and closer toward the boardwalk, and the ocean threw up this NICE wave, all mine. Nice push and a shoulder I could see forever. I was so surprised, I had a bottleneck of thoughts go through my head: You should really do some top turns... This has got to close out somewhere... I can't believe I'm still going... You still haven't done anything with this wave... Shut up, I'm enjoying the ride... No don't kick out there, see it opens up again... You know you're going to want to paddle back out after this... Totally awesome! I want another one of these... Don't paddle back out... I still can't believe I'm on this wave... This is obviously the best wave you'll have, so don't paddle back out... Resist, resist... This wave is so long I'm actually aware of having this inner dialogue... Okay, you're almost at the beach and you'd better kick out now because that shorebreak looks awful.

Seriously, that was one of the best waves I'd had in a long time. And all that really was going through my head.

I didn't paddle back out.

PS. I whistle when I surf. I don't know why and I usually don't consciously choose the tune. The song in my head this morning? "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" by Nancy Sinatra.

Kitesurf/kiteboard/skateboard/boardboard/boredboard

I haven't surfed in so long (...going on three weeks? It was small, then I got sick, then there's rain...) that I've actually been looking for other crazy things I could theoretically hurt myself doing. I started researching Kitesurfing or Kiteboarding (but not enough to know which is the proper term).

I'm also keeping an eye out for a cheap (but not cheap-o) skateboard. (Thanks, Dave Rich!)

I realized I could probably fix the glass shatter on my Guy-O board this weekend. Or I could do my taxes.

Eh.

Yoga - the new Iron Man training

I haven't been surfing and my muscles have grown soft and it was getting harder to climb three flights of stairs, so I told myself that every morning I had to do SOMETHING physical. I "ran" one morning last week and I decided that I would unfurl the yoga mat that has a permanent curl from a year of non-use. I didn't feel ready to go back into the studio because my back was semi-seized and I figured that doing some basic work at home would be challenging enough. So, Friday, after some basic warm-up poses, I started in on doing 2 sets of 10 vinyasas. By the twentieth vinyasa, my heartrate was up and I was sweating. It was a better workout than my "running."

Throughout the day, I found my arms weary and my legs like jello. I couldn't believe how much of a physical workout the yoga was... and how out of shape I was.

Saturday morning came with a BUNCH of pain as the lactic acid from the yoga workout had time to work its painful magic on my sedentary muscles overnight. Yi-yi-yi.

Sunday, I was able to move enough to resume vinyasa-ing, and I did so again this morning. I imagine with the weather this week, I'll continue this new Iron Man training. Already, my back feels stronger than it did when I was a big blob and I actually can't wait to get back in the water.

Stoke meme

Whiffleboy got me to thinking in this post which was inspired by Jason's post about "why we surf." How do you explain the stoke?

For a violin-playing, straight-A-getting, Chinese-American girl raised in Central Illinois, surfing was not actually on the envisioned trajectory. But for anybody who knows me, they will understand it when I say I surf because it's the one time in my day where I don't (and can't) think about anything else. My mind empties all its over-analyzing tendencies, dumps all worries about yesterday and tomorrow, and just concentrates on the oncoming wave.

What I write in this blog tends to be me, coming back to reality, over-analyzing with twenty-twenty hindsight.

Happy Trails

Since there was supposed to be a swell today and Mr. Me is away this weekend, I made plans to go to visit Little Miss N in Del Mar. I figured San Diego County handles big waves better than L.A. beach breaks and the surf spots are plentiful so people don't all crowd the points.

Miss N was fostering a trio of part-border collie pups for the weekend so Saturday night and Sunday morning was full of fun projectile diarrhea and waddling cuteness. Thank goodness I got out of there before I took this guy home.

This morning, we met up with a couple of other girls at Trail 3. It wasn't big, and came in at chest high on the sets, but I had a great time with some slopey shoulders to work with. I caught so many long rides that I was tired of paddling back out. I know I'm going to pay for all the fun tomorrow when I sit at my desk and my back locks into place so I am unable to fully straighten when I stand. Good times.

It was a good morning, and I barely had enough energy to make the haul back up the cliff. As I was about to go into cardiac arrest, I found out why there is a bench installed about two-thirds of the way up, right before the last steep climb at Trail 3.

The Hat - no joke

Whiffleboy thought I was kidding about the hat. I was paddling back to my car and I heard my name called out from the glare of the sun. Nice to finally meetcha! Hope the waves picked up!

The Hat

There's this look that surfers in the line-up give to a new surfer paddling into the line-up. It's that glance out of the corner of the eye over the shoulder. When the new surfer appears kooky, there's a discernible stiffening movement and maybe a wary snubbing. I especially love it when my friends in the line-up do it to me when I bring out the hat for the first time in the winter season. Then, when I get closer and they can hear my loud laugh, jaws drop and shoulders relax and then they make fun of my hat.

Yes, I have a neoprene hat that looks like this. But this is not the hat I wear. I wore this neoprene hat about three times last winter. I was looking for something that would help keep the water out of my ears because I felt like the cold winter water was starting to really damage my hearing. I wandered in and out of stores and browsed online for options but I was feeling a little vain. But then one of my favorite flirty guys at one of my least favorite surf shops said I looked "cute" in it, so I bought it. (Sound like a guy, don't I?)

In the water, I disliked how the neoprene earflaps created a weird echo-chamber against my head. And I looked like a dork. So I stopped wearing it.

Instead, this is the hat I wear. (Actually, this is not my hat, the hat looks a lot like this, but there's a poofy ball at the top.) I wear a knit wool cap with earflaps that tie under my chin. I found it at the back of a drawer full of clothes I moved over from the East coast. It keeps my head warm and keeps most of the impact of the water from shooting into my ears. I decided that if I was going to look like a dork in the water, I'd prefer looking like a TOTAL dork. The choice is purposeful and I feel if you intend extreme dorkiness, then you can cross the line into being hip. And that's what I'm all about. Being hip. Oh, yeah.

The good kind of sore

"Running" (more like a half-jog/walk) on the soft sand: exhausting, bad sore. No smiling, but there is a gritty realization that it's GOOD FOR ME. That's what I did yesterday.

I hate things that are GOOD FOR ME. That's why the hardest workout I've had in the last two weeks has been lifting the strip of bacon from the grease-soaked paper-towel lined plate to my mouth. Decidedly BAD FOR ME.

But then there's surfing, which I haven't done much of lately. It is a pretty equal mix of GOOD FOR ME and BAD FOR ME, but I've been avoiding it because of 1) laziness and 2) unappealing conditions.

I told myself this morning that I wouldn't even look at it, because the longer I look at it, the more think I should go "running." So this morning, I didn't look at it and pulled out my newly fixed Cooperfish. So pretty. So heavy. I forgot about that part.

At the car, pulling on stinkerrific booties, I had a debate with myself. Leash or no leash? I didn't hear crashing waves and the bigger waves I could see from the parking lot were just mushing over, so I thought to hell with it. No leash. If I have to swim it will be GOOD FOR ME.

Because of the deceptive waves that mushed out even though the tide is better now in the mornings, I did a lot of paddling for nothing which is GOOD FOR ME and I hate that. I had a good time though when I realized that surfing, even in the cold, is fun. I did forget how to surf a little. Foot placement on this board is a fluid thing and I was a little unsure after such a long absence from the Cooperfish. Also, the lack of leash was a bad decision on my part, because it played with my head and I didn't take bigger waves because I didn't want to swim.

In the end, I started taking the bigger waves just cuz and had to swim, not too far, once. THEN, paddling back out after a wave, I had to turtle and I KNEW I'd lose the board before the wave even washed over me. I've noticed the last couple of times I've been in the water and it's been so cold that I have a contact problem with my bare hands. My board feels more slippery underneath my bare skin and even when I rub my hands together they feel odd. I don't know why this is. Maybe there's a scientific explanation.

OR maybe my newly instituted night-time moisturizing regimen is taking helpful wrinkles off my skin.

I swam in and now I'm experiencing the good kind of sore in my shoulders and upper back. "Running" makes me grumpy and achy and want to die and surfing makes me tired and sore and feel alive.

Move over, Michelangelo

I spent Sunday morning experimenting with pigment and resin because I'm so vain about my Cooperfish. It's been hanging on the wall for a couple of months since getting finned in Ventura. I also decided to fix a couple more dings I'd inherited from the previous owner (who took this picture of the board).

I knew these were dings I could fix, I just didn't want white spots all over this beautiful board. So, I mixed some resin and breathed in some toxic fumes and then put in the blue, yellow, and white pigments I bought. I'm pretty short on common sense when it comes to skilled labor, so I realized too late that I didn't need quite so much pigment as I used. It wasn't like I was trying to paint the whole deck of the board. Also, duh, mix the pigment first, then drop it into the resin paste. So my second attempt was much better.

But I'm VERY EXCITED about the color match. If I ever buy a digital camera, I'll document how brilliant I was with the pigment.

Snowsuit cold

I remember those days in winter when I'd wake up at 7am just to listen to the radio. Mom couldn't even start getting me to grumble anything back from under the covers before 8am usually, but if it started to snow the night before, I'd set the alarm just so I could hear the radio. And I'd wait patiently through the alphabet until it got to "Gale Middle School" and I'd feel such a surge of joy at having a snowday that I'd fling off the covers and go downstairs to see my mother shaking her head at me for being awake at 7am when there wasn't school.

Later on, when the sun had warmed up the air to 32-degrees, my brothers and I would bundle into our snowsuits. There'd be the puffy snowpants/overalls worn over thermal underwear with the two pairs of knee-high socks (one tucked under and one pulled over the thermal underwear) and the snowboots pulled over the cuffs of the snowpants if you could zip the boots up. The overalls portion of the snowpants would hook together over a sweater or a sweatshirt layered over a longsleeved thermal underwear layered over a t-shirt. You'd put on your gloves so that its cuffs would be pulled tight by the sleeves of the puffy snowjacket that you'd zip up over the scarf that you'd wrap around your throat a couple of times. It would be wrapped in such a way that your nose and mouth would tuck in and once you got your hat and earmuffs on, the only sliver of skin that the air could touch was around the eyes. My brothers and I, bundled just so, would be ready to waddle out into the snow and PLAY!

After playing and freezing, but having so much fun we didn't realize we were freezing, we'd come in. We'd stomp off as much snow in the garage and peel out of the layers, leaving poor mom to deal with the thawing, dripping snowsuits which she would hang up in the laundry room over the sink. There was always hot chocolate waiting and as my hands would wrap around that welcome heat of the cup, I'd notice how my fingers would be too swollen with blood and cold to bend and flex.

And this is what I thought of this morning after I came out of the surf.

Unbaptised

Cold. Windy. Small.

AND there was a group of Christian cultists in white and purple embroidered robes headed out to the beach from the parking lot. They were carrying banners with biblical symbols. I decided it was safer for my heathen chink ass to stay out of the baptismal waters this morning. But I kept thinking that if the Christians were going to go into the water, God should definitely let them into heaven because it's really cold at the beach.

Costa Rica - Day Seven

Friday, December 23
Last full day. The board said we were going to load into the boat and go to Marbella. It's a great little 45 minute trip by boat (instead of two hours by car). You get to see how the shoreline changes. Unfortunately, when we got there, there was nothing to surf. The south swell had all but gone by this day and a north had started filling in, which was why Tamarindo looked so much better and bigger. We decided to head back to Tamarindo. What I didn't understand was why we didn't stop at any of the breaks in between Tamarindo and Marbella. There were unsurfed rocky breaks outside that looked fun... maybe they were too gnarly to be surfed? Most of them came off submerged rocks and reefs.

Spent the morning surfing in Tamarindo which was fine. Then did more lounging which I'd, by now, started to get used to. Also, I started using up the roll of film.

Room #25 at Hotel El Milgro. The placed I called "casa." (Note the 7'0" Guy Okazaki board leaning against the wall. I dressed the set, but didn't plan the nifty light flares and bleeds the camera would take on.)


Oh, and one of these days in the afternoon, I forget which date, we went on a little estuary tour and hike. My pictures really didn't turn out, but my one purposefully taken shot of mangrove and reflection turned out pretty well:


Dinner that night was at Dragonfly - recommended by our host and by Captain America. It's down a dark street and the owner is an ex-pat American woman with two giant dogs - one being a German Shepard, tamed by begging for tasty Asian-fusion scraps from the dining table. The lady saw a need (the lack of good food for tourists with hoity tastes) and filled it. There's still room for more in Costa Rica and don't think I'm not thinking about it. I make a kick-ass jambalaya and fold wontons with the best.

Starter: shrimp tempura with a spicy remoulade $5 (and SO MANY SHRIMP - could have been a meal)

My entree: pan-roasted chicken with tamarind sauce over a bed of spinach $12

Miss N's entree: some kind of seafood fetuccini that was DELICIOSO

Dessert was going to be sopapilla, but they had issues so they comped us a hot fudge brownie with a side of vanilla ice cream (and ice cream is REAL in Costa Rica -- creamy, full of dairy and fat -- YUM)

Costa Rica - some pics

I used this camera to take pictures in and out of the water. I think it works best underwater. I took most of these pics at Witch's and Ollie's because the waves were small and I had to make my own fun.

Witch's - The Rock:


Flat day, waist-high. Note the beautiful untouched shoreline, though:


Proof that one of us was in the water with the Rock:


I told Miss N to get a picture with me and the Rock. What's missing?


When the waves are small and inconsistent, you do a lot of this:

Costa Rica - Day Six

Thursday, December 22, 5:30am
Our dawn patrol at Langosta yesterday seemed to inspire the surf camp planners to send us off on a boat pre-dawn today. The boys (Tattoo Guy, Maryland Dad and Son) had gone to Marbella the morning of our Langosta dawn patrol and said it was great.

So, today, we were thrown on a boat with a tired-looking Flash and Chilo to take us the short ride to Playa Grande. I can't say we were the first in the water, but we were one of the few with waist-chest high waves coming inconsistently. Maryland Dad and Son went off toward the main peak, but Miss N, Tattoo Guy, and I drifted along at the second peak. Our guide Flash stayed, too, but I think that's because he had a little crush on Miss N.

I had some nice rides on the beach break as the sun started coming up. Tattoo Guy noticed I was on the 9'2" epoxy board instead of the 7'0". I told him I was on vacation and wanted a higher wave count for less effort! Flash told me my balance was good but I should start walking on the board more to keep speed going through the sections. Tattoo Guy suggested cross-stepping would be easier for me. I promised the next wave I'd try it. It started being a good day -- my wave count was high enough that I felt okay experimenting and flubbing perfectly good waves.

Then I did what I'm known for doing. I traded boards. Tattoo Guy and I were talking about various boards we owned back home and he told me of a classic longboard he had hanging on his wall. He hadn't surfed a longboard in a while. And that's my cue to offer to switch. He was on a 6'0" epoxy fish borrowed from the surf camp. I didn't really think I'd get any waves, but I'm always up for comedy.

Tattoo Guy took some long rides (after remembering how to turn a longboard again), while I fell in love with the 6'0" fish. I can't say that I did particularly well, but I loved taking off, turning, and trying to hit the lip. I'm not really keen on shortboards because I'm lazy and my pop-up is too slow, but for some reason, paddling into a wave and popping up on the fish felt like taking off on a longboard. Now I'm torn -- do I dream of buying a 10'0" board or a tiny fat fish?

4:30pm
We were scheduled to go to Playa Junquilla at 1pm, but Flash and everybody agreed that at low tide, it would not be worth travelling, so I spent the day lounging, reading, and shopping. But as the tide started filling in before sunset, we decided to get our boards and surf the beachbreak/rivermouth at Tamarindo. The waves were maybe waist-high, so I decided to try out the surf camp's 10'2" single-fin epoxy board.

OH. MY. GOD.

Being on such a huge board amplifies the power of the wave, especially when you're five feet tall. Trying to turn a 10'2" board makes waist-high waves feel like they're head-high. Everything happens much slower and much earlier on a 10'2". I didn't get waves at first because 1) I couldn't turn the board toward shore and 2) the inertia of the board was so slow that once I got up enough paddling speed the wave was already past me. I had to sit much further back in order to be able to pivot the board around, and I had to start paddling much earlier than I would have on my other boards in order to get it moving. These are not lazy boards. I reckon I did more paddling that session than I did on any of my other boards that week.

I finally got some good waves and started realizing just how much I'd have to walk. To even get down the face of the small wave, I'd have to immediately start walking forward after I popped up. And of course I'd have to turn or pearl, so I'd have to immediately dart back to the tail so I could crank the thing around. Yowza. I loved it. Now I was really torn between fish and whale.

7:30pm
Dinner at La Caracola. Small outdoor restaurant on the circle. Eclectic decor. Live music -- which was a little too loud if you sat right in front of the stage as we mistakely did. Super fantastic dinner. Medium-rare steak served with a mushroom-wine reduction. We had passed many herds of cattle in our travels from break to break. I'm sure my steak was fresh.