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.

Costa Rica - Day Five

First off, Little Miss N cannot hold her liquor. What a cheap date. My foodie self demanded some kind of tasty cuisine on Tuesday night so we took Tattoo Guy's suggestion and went to the gringo place Pasatiempo. While we were bouncing along in the van for an hour and a half (after bouncing along in the boat for an hour and 45 minutes) back from Ollie's and Witch's, Tattoo Guy described a brilliant macadamia nut encrusted tuna with mango salsa. I had to go. I was on vacation.

Funny thing happens in Costa Rica. Since dining is so comparatively cheap to dining in the U.S., your scale gets skewed. All of a sudden $12 for an entree seems outlandish and unseemly and you opt for the $5 entree place instead. But if you were to really think about it, the $12 I spent on macadamia nut encrusted tuna was a steal compared to what it would have cost me in the United States. It's like going to a garage sale when all of a sudden 25 cents makes or breaks a deal.

At Pasatiempo that evening, I taught a stray cat how to sit and lay down on command, and Miss N forgot how to walk at the end of the evening after her second mojito. This would go unremarked except that we had asked for a dawn patrol to Playa Langosta the next morning and Miss N woke up with her head still spinning.

Wednesday, December 21, 5:30am
It's still dark at 5:30am in December. I kinda felt bad for requesting such an early call time, making the poor driver Calin wake up with us crazy surfers, especially if there was nothing there and we'd make him turn around and take us back. But then, we pulled up at Playa Langosta in the pre-dawn light and trundled along the narrow path to the beach. We peered across the rivermouth to find shoulder-head high waves, and we couldn't get back to the van fast enough to unload our boards.

I'd decided the day before, after lots of paddling to get into waist-high waves, that I was on VACATION and that meant I shouldn't work so hard to get my waves. That meant I was borrowing boards from the surf camp for the remainder of the trip and today I was back on the 9'2" plastic board.

I cannot describe what a great morning I had. For the first 20 minutes, it was just Miss N and me out with the semi-consistent sets as the sun started to peak over the mountains. There was no wind, and the water was warm, so after my first three waves and paddling the long distance back to the peak, I was feverish in my short-sleeve rashguard and the sun wasn't even overhead yet!

Langosta is not a nose-walking wave and I'm not particularly good at that anyway, but I am pretty good at long carves on a longboard and this wave was perfect for that. Good power on the take-off that stayed evenly through the shoulder. I kicked out of nearly every wave until I decided I would hang on just a little longer on one wave. I realized I was right in listening to my instincts to kick-out all the previous waves because I was met on the inside with a good thumping... but that was fun, too!

We were joined by a newbie on a too-short funboard. I don't think he got a single ride. Then two cutie-pie twenty-year-old Canadians came out with their shortboards and they ripped up those waves and made some impressive attempts at catching air and doing 360s. For another 20 minutes or so, it was the four of us trading waves. Then an army of surfers started to paddle across the rivermouth. I knew I would be looking for my last wave soon, because I didn't want to ruin my stellar session with grumbling. Langosta at dawn was the highlight of my surfing.

I did nothing else that day except laze around on a hammock, shop, check my email (and saw the crazy waves of Big Wednesday in SoCal), drink beer... and I finished that Geisha book. There was a small bookcase for book exchanges at the surf camp, so I traded. Instead of going for the easy Danielle Steele novel, I thought I'd try Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. (Really great, poignant, and strangely hilarious book. I finished it by the end of the week, too, that's how much of a vacation I had. I can't remember the last time I finished reading something in a week let alone two novels.)

(Present Day)

I thought I was being all brilliant by walking the dog at 5:00am and driving from Valencia to get to Sunset by 6:15am in order to avoid the crowds. Only, I'm not the only one who was brilliant. The parking spaces were nearly filled up along PCH with people waiting. The swell which is exploding the beach breaks has driven everybody to look for a point. When I paddled out in the semi-darkness, there were already 10 guys in. I got my waves and left by 7:30am before I started getting all tense about the five-billion people in the water. Welcome back to surfing in SoCal!

Costa Rica - Day Four

So, the way the Surf Tour works is at 7:00pm the night before, you're supposed to check the board and see what the next day's schedule is. Depending on tide and swell, they plan your destination and means of transportation. After seeing my perfect dawn patrol wave at Playa Langosta, I was ready to bunk the next day's plan for my own thing, but then I saw the board: "7:00am WITCH'S by Boat." My dawn patrol would have to wait for another sunrise.

Tuesday, December 20, 7:00am
I found myself being bumped along in the van with what would be my golden crew for the rest of the week: Little Miss N, Maryland Dad and Son, and Tattoo Guy. I like to think that we made a nice team. Everybody could surf and no one was annoying -- and if he was annoying, he would be annoying his dad so it was okay.

On the long boat ride to Witch's, after the long car ride from Tamarindo to Playa Coco, Maryland Dad said to his son who hated rice and beans: "You lookin' for the potato chips, they're in the pocket of the backpack."

Maryland Son to his dad: "WHICH POCKET?! GAHHH!"

God bless teenage boys when they start rebelling against their dads. Makes you laugh and makes you cry all at the same time.

Really, though, he was a good kid. Goofy foot.

Tattoo Guy was one of the mellowest, most personable people I'd ever met in my life. And Maryland Dad was a straight-up kinda guy with a wry sense of humor.

Tattoo Guy: "I heard the surf camp has a program where you can bring your whole family and they take your kids surfing so you can have some time with your wife."

Maryland Dad, wryly: "Now, WHY would I want to be away from my kids?"

Me. Laughing. Crying. Same time.

SO ANYWAY...

Witch's Rock. The surf camp is named after it because they used to have a house at Playa Coco -- which is the launching pad for all the boats going out to the break. Now, instead of spending the night at house in Coco and launching in the morning, we drive an hour and a half to Coco, get a quick breakfast, and then get on a boat for 40 minutes to Witch's Rock (high tide spot) and another 45 minutes to Ollie's Point (low tide spot). The sea turtles were out swimming as we zoomed by.

What swell there had been over the last few days had started to die and we had heard it was going to die even further over the next few days. I am enchanted with the boat ride to Witch's, I am not so enchanted with the waves. Mostly waist-high up and over with a two-second shoulder. A surfer climbing back into another boat anchored there yelled over to us, "Sets were coming in head high! But that was two hours ago. Then it just DIED."

Glad I brought the camera. I designated myself surf photog for the session and made my own fun. Most of the waves to be had were VERY reminiscent to the shoulderless LA County beachbreaks... but it was warm water. That was the difference. That, and there was a giant rock looming out of the water.

After a less than stellar session, we hauled back into the boat and bumped along to Ollie's Point. Now, this place I loved even with the lack of swell energy. It's a hidden cove with a small beach and thick trees sprouting straight up into a hill and a mountain which all work together so you feel like you're being wrapped up cozy-like in someone's arms. When the wave energy enters the cove and begin to break off the submerged rock point, it's like a whisper in your ear when you take off. It's just... peaceful.

Of course, that was on a waist-high day. I can see how it would be different on a big day.

I was stuck with the wrong board all day. The other boys at the camp had gone to Witch's on Saturday and the reports were overhead and hollow. It spooked me enough to make me know I didn't want to go in with the borrowed 9'2" epoxy that responded slower than my brother to a question when he was watching TV. So I brought my 7'0" along. This board is NOT a small wave board for a lazy bum like me. I woulda rocked Ollie's with the biggest board in our crew at 9'2". Oh well.

We were the only ones at Ollie's. The other two boatloads were finishing up their sessions when we got there, so we waited for the tide to go lower and for them to get their last waves. Nothing quite like having only five people in the water at a haunting point break.

(Present Day)

Before I could rationalize myself back into bed, I put on my wetsuit and headed out with my pre-loaded car. It was lined out at the LA beach breaks today and I didn't want to finagle the crowds at the point (besides there being no time to travel before work and the one thing I learned in Costa Rica was that I get impatient if I have to search for surf). Just goes to show that you can rationalize even after you put on a half a wetsuit and sweat in it.

Costa Rica - Day Three

Monday, December 19, 8:00am CST
I tried for the breakfast again, but still was rushed into slapping together two pieces of toast around bacon. I was beginning to realize that service is pleasant but laid-back. My American sensibilities needed to calm down to the "time flows around you like a river" and go-tubing-with-a-cooler-of-beer thing.

8:45am CST
Surf guide: Ricardo. Driver: Leo. Surfers: Faux British guy and Tan Girl. Destination: Avellanas - 45 minutes of bumpy road. Beach break with rocks in one spot. Avellanas is the place with the big pig, but it wasn't there this day. Hot sand. Howling offshores which would have held up any waves if there had been anything breaking. There was a rock and a reef FAR down the beach which was breaking. About 8 guys were on the one peak breaking infrequently every fifteen minutes. It was pretty much a right-hand wave because if you went left, you were headed for the big submerged rock and if you made it past that, there's a shallow reef for about twenty yards to contend with. Longboarders were the most successful because the winds were pushing the shortboarders off the wave.

We dawdled for a while and Miss N played with the stray dog with short legs and a horsey head. I continued reading that Geisha book in the shade of the shrubs lining the wide beach. Finally, after the group of eight left, Faux British guy and Tan Girl decided to go out. I continued reading and lounging, but kept an eye out. Poor Tan Girl really should have taken a different option on the tour which included lessons because she paddled out right in the one impact zone. If she had known better, she would have realized that twenty yards to her left nothing was breaking. After ten minutes, Miss N came back and said she was just going in to get wet and I told her she'd probably beat Tan Girl out. I looked up and saw her get smacked again. I watched Miss N paddle out easily in the channel, then I saw Tan Girl head in Miss N's direction. Later I was to learn that Miss N actually called her over to help her out. How nice. She's usually not so nice.

The Geisha book was really pretty good, but I would periodically look up to see how my compatriots were doing. Not well. The off-shore was pushing them back. Finally, I decided I was getting hot, so I grabbed my 7'0" and paddled out IN THE CHANNEL. Zippy.

Warm water and hot offshores? Invigorating. The first wave I tried to take off on was completely denied as the wind lifted my board just as I popped up. It literally pushed me off the wave. Nothing I could do but laugh and enjoy the spray of salt water every time I tried to take off. After lots of no-success, I was motivated to take a shoulder-high left-hander (past the rock, into the shallow reef) when a horde of young Euros decided to paddle out at our one spot that was working. It was actually a pretty nifty wave until it petered out on me and I was left scratching my toes on a reef and paddling in.

Back to home base.

12:00pm CST
I decided that the bar and grill at Witch's Rock Surf Camp actually had pretty decent food for $5.00. (You know, I came to the conclusion that we gringos know how to do good food. Forget the cheap meal option of local places, spend a couple bucks more and be a tourist at the gringo-owned joints. Spices are a good thing.) I had chicken enchiladas and guacamole. Oh, and beer. Can't forget the beer. Miss N had some fruity rum drink the night before at the bar and grill that tasted like Robitussin. Ick. Stick to the beer.

3:00pm CST
Ricardo and Leo drove Faux Brit, Miss N, and I the scant 10 minutes through Tamarindo to Playa Langosta. After trodding down a little trail past deck chairs and lounging tourists, you had to cross a rivermouth. New experience! Most of the fun happens when the current takes you and you paddle desperately to save yourself from ending up downstream. It was never that scary because the rivermouth actually bends around this gigantic spit of sand and if the current were to take you, you would be released when the waterway widens around the curve.

What I found, though, at Lobster Beach, was a beautifully shaped wave. I mean an absolutely gorgeous head-high peak with power all the way through a long shoulder. It's the first time I'd ever seen a rivermouth break and I was an instant fan of the sand deposits that made such a beautiful wave. The main peak was mainly a right-hand wave with a shorter left into the river mouth. A secondary peak was less consistent and went right and left, but that afternoon there was a crowd of 50 guys sitting and spreading from main peak to second. I paddled out anyway with the idea that I wouldn't be getting any waves, but I'd be seeing some really good surfing.

After my usual whooping and loud chatting with Miss N in the deafening silence of 50 stoic surfers trying hard to ignore each other to grab a wave, I heard someone call my name. Eh? Who else could possibly be playing my "Be Loud" game and know my name? Captain America from Santa Monica! I knew he and his wife would be overlapping their time in Costa Rica with mine, but I didn't think I'd actually run into them. Small surfing world. I watched him take a couple REALLY nice waves and he gave us recommendations on places to eat - definitely welcome to this surfer foodie palate stuck in Gallo Pinto (b)Land.

Finally, weirdly enough, after about an hour of posturing and paddling and wishing I had a longboard, a super-keen overhead wave popped up right at me. It wasn't going to work for the surfers to the left of me and I stared down the ones to the right of me. I didn't do much with the wave except drop and bottom turn too low for any kind of real trim, but it was a great zoom and I took it to shore so I could watch the show silhouetted in sunset.

So my wave count for the day was Two, but that was my epiphanic day. I was surfed out... not in the sense that I'd paddled myself to death, but that I couldn't spend all my days in search of surf. I was a dawn patrol girl through and through and I'd just found the perfect spot for an early morning session.

Costa Rica - Day Two

Sunday, December 18, 8:00am CST
Since I had thirty minutes before my call time to get on the van to Marbella (south of Tamarindo), I decided to get desayuno (my Spanish was surprisingly not gone from 12 years of non-use) at the Witch's Rock Surf Camp grill since it was included in our tour package. Gallo pinto was much better -- I think because of the spices and the bacon on the side. The order took longer than I thought it would so I smacked the bacon inside two pieces of toast and wandered to the cage where I left my 7'0" Okazaki board...

8:30am CST
It's nice to have fiberglass under hand. It's so light when you're helping to heave it up on top of the van. Personnel: Javier, surf guide; Ulises, driver. Surfers: Faux British guy, Guy who knew Miss N from a previous trip (obviously the camp has a following), Tattoo Guy, and Maryland Dad and Son. Luckily, I was sitting backwards so I couldn't see the streams we were crossing until after we had crossed them. Unfortunately, I was sitting facing Miss N so I would see her eyes widen in panic when she saw what was coming up. Never sit facing Little Miss N.

TWO HOURS LATER...

Okay, maybe it was more like an hour and 45 minutes, but with the bumpy and the dusty and the facing five stoic men who don't know each other, it felt more like three hours...

We arrive at this stand of trees that looks out onto a wide stretch of beach. We share the piece of shade with a scantily clad young couple lounging beneath a sheet hung between two trees. On the sheet was a pirate's skull and crossbones. They'd been there for a while, as evidenced by a trash pile, some unused rations, and a firepit that looked like it had been lit and put out several times. Oh, and there was a fierce little Jack Russell terrier that guarded it all like it was his own. Javier shook hands with the young man and we milled about, looking at the waves chopped up by the onshores at 10:30am.

The tide was supposed to come up more, maybe make it better. Miss N and I wandered up the beach, not a surfer in sight for five hundred yards. One spot was working. Choppy, but there was something to surf. Instead of waiting, we were antsy to get in, so we headed back to the van. The boys had the same idea and had already brought our boards down. Bonus on carrying a 7'0" five hundred yards down a beach? It's lighter than a longboard.

I can't say that I had the best rides of my life at Marbella, but I was happy to have no problems taking off and the infrequent head high set waves were chopped up by the wind so they were mushy and I had absolutely no fear. This made me rather kamikaze on my wave selection, but I figured if there's not going to be clean waves with shoulders, you might as well take bigger waves with steep drops. The beautiful thing about this break is, well, the beauty. A beachy shoreline ended in a thicket of lush green. It was almost empty of people so even the sound of victory at sea was quiet and peaceful.

We were supposed to stay there all day and surf a second session because the camp had packed lunches for us, but nobody thought it was going to get better so we trucked it back to Tamarindo.

Costa Rica - Day One

Friday, Dec. 16, 11:00pm PST
Little Miss N and I stood in no less than six lines from the moment Mr. Me dropped us off at LAX. It would be seven lines if you counted how long we taxied on the tarmac.

Saturday, Dec. 17, 8:00am CST
We hired a porter to help us with our boards and baggage to walk from the shiny new San Jose International Airport around the corner to the smaller regional airport. Tourists, pilots, porters lounged in the warm morning air like there was nowhere else they had to be. Flying in the prop plane was fun. The landing in Tamarindo, on a short gravel strip, next to a field with grazing cows, was more fun.

12:00pm CST
The van rambled on a dusty road (one of the better ones I was soon to find out) to town where Little Miss N introduced me to the people of http://www.witchsrocksurfcamp.com/. They gave us an orientation and I got a beer (first of many). I heard Miss N's name called out and we turned to find Joe - the owner of the program. Miss N's done this thing four times before.

3:00pm CST
After a nap and a walk, we gathered at the Surf Camp for our first trip. They boated us out to Playa Grande, which was only a 10 minute boat ride northward from Tamarindo. I chose a 9'2" epoxy from the camp. I've never boated into a break from behind. What this does is completely mess up your idea of how big a wave might be. We found choppy waters, but there was enough power for shoulder-head high stuff that popped out of rough waters. I enjoyed taking steep drops that would mush into a shoulder with the heavy 9'2" board.

Evidently there's a bunch of locals at the main peak of Playa Grande who don't take kindly to tourists. An Italian developer bought a bunch of land there and sells units only to other Italians, so if you find yourself being cursed in the water, it's going to be in Italian.

Along with our guide Flash and boat driver Chilo, we had three other people in our group: Maryland Dad and Son, and Tan Girl who might have benefited from a lesson or two. She ended up with a fat lip when her board smacked her in her face.

7:00pm CST
Dinner. In search of Costa Rican cuisine. Started to realize that Costa Rican cuisine is kinda bland. I like rice and beans (the dish is called gallo pinto), but I also like spices with my rice and beans. So, I ordered another beer.

Running down Rica - the Philosophical

This will be short, and when I have more time in the next few days, I'll write more specifically about the breaks I surfed in Costa Rica before I forget. (And, SurfSis, I rode both the 7'0" I brought but by Wednesday, I decided I was on vacation and didn't want to work for my waves so I borrowed a 9'2" epoxy from the surf camp AND a 10'2" epoxy which totally rocked!!! -- more on that later.)

The Epiphany

I once had a surf buddy who said, "Surfing is my life."

I kinda thought he was an idiot anyway, so my initial pause and raise of my eyebrow was not so abnormal a reaction. But I had a feeling that the statement was sort of weird and pathetic even if it were out of the mouth of someone less moronic.

Last week, probably about two days into being carted around to different sites and chasing surf all day to get skunked with windblown chop, I was surfed out. Never mind the 80-degree air and 75-degree water, forget the sparsely populated shoreline and surfing in boardshorts. I wanted no more. I realized my inner curmudgeon liked routine. I like to get my surfing in the morning and be done with it. I don't like spending an hour looking for the perfect spot because by mid-morning every break has a high probability of sucking anyway: sucking by wind, sucking by tide, sucking by crowds.

I discovered that surfing is NOT my life and I was relieved. Surfing is just one part of my life. It's definitely a part of my life that defines certain choices I will make in the future: choosing where I live, choosing my morning alarm settings, choosing my vacation spots... But surfing is not all of my life and I am glad to recognize that I need balance.

Pura Vida

So the water is warm and the cerveza is cold, but I'm not used to surfing mid-morning or afternoon which is what we've been doing. Mostly skunked with the onshore winds at Marbella and the howling offshores sending spray into your face at Avellanas. There was not enough swell to make the long-ass boat ride to Witch's Rock and Ollie's point more than interesting for the experience. I liked Ollie's but that was more because I learned how to pee in the water there. This winter I know how I'm keeping myself warm during dawn patrol!

Today was the first good day of surfing but that was mostly because we demanded a dawn patrol tour of Playa Langosta. We had gone there in the afternoon two days before and saw head high waves and 50 guys sitting on the limited take-off point. I saw an L.A. surf buddy who was there with his wife. Small world. I watched all the amazing surfers angle for the inconsistent waves and when I finally got my wave, I took off and never looked back. Outta there. Dawn patrol this morning was EXCELLENT. Chest-high and just me and N for twenty minutes until two other surfers came out to play. Enough waves until 7am when the peak quickly filled up to 15 people. Time for me to say goodbye. I got my long carving rides and left while I was still feeling good.

***

Went on to swellmagnet.com to read Uncle Grant's report about the crazy waves hitting Venice. Wish I were there to see it! (Nah, not really. I was actually hot in my rashguard this morning at 6:30.)

I'm sad to miss this show...

From wetsand.com:

Wednesday the 21st, the shortest day of the year, will be seeing some big surf hit the coast. As we mentioned in yesterday’s report, this is from a significant WNW system traveling at low latitudes towards our region. Today, models have kicked this system up a notch; actually make that about three or four notches. This powerful system is now posted in NWS warnings, which considering their conservative nature on swell prediction is impressive. The NWS is warning of high surf and coastal flooding potential. The WAM model runs today are showing this system now building into an astonishing large system with 18+ second periods, and surf that could reach 20+ feet on the faces at direct west facing breaks. Now, bear in mind that we’re still dealing with some 48h+ models, and we’ll need to confirm this in the next couple of days. Nevertheless, significant swell is imminent; we just need to see if this system builds to a 10-15 foot swell-maker, or, as some models suggest today, a 20-25 foot surf pounder. To err on the side of conservative predictions, our call could be for 12-14 foot face heights at west facing breaks. To err on the side of caution, we’d call for bigger, more hazardous surf. We’ll have more details by Sunday morning, and keep you posted as models converge on this system over the next 36 hours.

I look forward to reading your blogs to see if this swell actually came in.

See ya!

One last blast of cold water at the Pier this morning to prepare me for the grueling 70-degree water and 85-degree air in Costa Rica. Red eye flight tonight, and this time tomorrow I'll be in board shorts and a rashguard (if it isn't too warm).

Rough life. I know.

Breakfast burrito?

I'm having a waffle.

I've been out of the water for nearly three weeks (reasons: lack of waves, landlocked for the Thanksgiving holiday, a week-long cold that made me lose my voice and sound like a Canadian goose). Yesterday I went back in only because I started having fear about going to Costa Rica and not having surfed for a month. So I took Doc to the beach and decided to go out no matter what. The waves at the home break were maybe waist-high-plus and mostly dumpy. One surprising wave loomed up and I actually made three nice turns on an actual shoulder. I'm still reliving that wave today because it was so shockingly good in such poor pickings.

ANYWAY.

This wave got me to thinking about me and surfing and how I love longboarding. These thoughts co-mingled with the hassle of finding a travel board bag, packing the board, and hauling the board across continents made me wonder why the hell I was bringing a short(er)board to Costa Rica? I'm having a waffle.

I mean, yeah, it would be nice to have my own board down there, especially if my snobby self hates the crappy rental longboards... but I *love*love*lurve* longboarding so that surfing the crappy epoxy plastic bubbling delaminated rentals in France last year was fun. Do I even like surfing the 7'0" enough to deal with the hassle of getting it down there?

Waffle.

Lost: Timing

Last seen about 3 weeks ago, before cold virus and laryngitis took it away. Looking for timing before going to a surf trip to Costa Rica. If found, please return to Grace.

Tag me, I got my shots

Little Miss N, with whom I'm going to Costa Rica, said I don't need these vaccines:

Tetanus/Diptheria
Hep A
Typhoid Fever
Malaria

"It's Costa Rica!" she said, as if it was supposed to invoke an image of a sort of paradise.

I'm sure it was paradise, before Adam and Eve came. I envision the same sorts of problems that a high concentration of human poop in the L.A. river basin causes. Honestly, I probably shoulda gotten the Hep A shot long before this upcoming trip.

Anyway, my arm is killing me. The right arm, shot up with Hep A, is just a tiny bit sore. The left arm, with the tetanus/diptheria shot feels like it's been hammered with a brick fifty times. I had planned on surfing this morning, too.

Flatness

I was actually on true dawn patrol this morning. Full moon out over the Santa Monica mountains, gorgeous colors of sky meeting water in a haze of a horizon... and no one in the water. No one was in the water because it was flat. Flat on the one day I try to get back to my old DP schedule. I turned on my heel, got in my car, and drove away.

Spicy surf

Saturday: short(er)board, decent-sized waves, crowded as all get out

Sunday: Doc 9'0", waist-high waves, remembering that I knew how to turn a longboard

So, Saturday night I went to have spicy Korean stew. And I mean SPICY. Like bacteria disintegrating spicy. The first time my Korean friends took me to this place, tears came rushing out of my eyes and gushing out of my nose as I had a naso-vascular reaction to the heat. Sweat poured off my brow. IT WAS GREAT! (Feeling it on the other end the next morning was not... too much information?)

Since then, though, I developed a red tide allergy this year which pretty much wiped out my sense of taste and smell. Not all taste, but the stuff I like best -- salty, savory, smoky. Recently, this has expanded to include my inability to taste some spicy food. I recently tried Killer Shrimp and their moderately spicy broth... absolutely nothin'. After telling my friend this info, Saturday night's excursion to K-town was thought-up in part as an experiment to see what would happen to me. Happy to say my nose was running and I was sweating. I don't think it was actually as spicy as the first time, but I'm glad to know I haven't completely lost the spicy buds.

Wine, however, has completely gone out of the picture. I opened a bottle on Friday and couldn't smell a thing. It just tasted like warm water with tannins. I had no idea if it was a good bottle or a bad bottle of wine. My guy came over and he took a glass. Immediately he said, "This is GOOD." Yeah, whatever, buddy. Drink up.

I'm not completely sure what to do. I like surfing and I like eating. Hard for me to give up one for the other. Right now, I'm being all Vulcan and being fascinated by what I can and can't taste... brunch at Joe's on Abbot Kinney last week was a really bad call on my part because I couldn't taste much of the pretty food on my plate. I fed the boy my food in addition to his own brunch and made him tell me what he was tasting in order to live vicariously. After one particularly loud moan of pleasure on his part, I warned him not to fake it.

In that meal, though, I could taste the fresh tomatoes smothered in a shrimp sauce. The acidity and sweetness of the tomatoes were actually bright on my tongue. I'm intrigued by this whole mechanism of what I can and can't taste and how foods might taste different to me, but this is gonna get old pretty quickly.

What's a foodie surfer to do?

Need more yoga

I was wondering when it would start happening. Since I've been back in the water more consistently and since I'm not on the heavy Cooperfish, and since I've been sitting in front of this computer all day again, I was wondering when my back would start freaking out on me. The answer: today. I was in the water for about 20 minutes and every pop-up got this little hitch in it. I had a decent right that I took all the way in and decided that was enough. It's time to start contorting my body again to build strength in all the muscles that aren't worked by paddling.

Also, I had serious longboard envy this morning. In the parking lot as I was pulling on my wetsuit, I spied a tiny woman barely carrying a huge single-fin. I looked at my un-longboard with some distaste. I do have good days on my un-longboard, but I never have the same joy as I do on the big board.

Cheating

I read the swell energy was going to be down until the latter part of the week, so I thought I'd take it easy on myself and break out a longboard. But then I thought how that would not help my short(er)board training, so I compromised and took out a board I hadn't surfed in over a year. It was dusty when I got it down from the wall. It's a 1970s single fin -- my Disco board --with a diamond tail and wings. It's 7'0" and three inches thick all the way to the rail with a beak nose. The last time I was on it, I was coming off riding a 9'0" almost exclusively and, frankly, I sucked. This time, everything about it was easy. Paddling, taking off, turning. It's kinda like cheating now because it's so much like surfing a longboard (but without the longboard sexiness): turn from the tail, step forward for speed.

The good kind of sore

Sunday was great. I saw some of the weekend crew I haven't seen since I started having my weekend escapes in Valencia/Ventura. I took out the 7'0" Okazaki even though I was tempted to take a longboard because I wasn't completely confident of my abilities in what would surely end up being a crowded sunny morning. But I told myself I'd have to start challenging myself on this board if I wanted to be comfortable going to Costa Rica with it in December. So I tossed the board in the car before I could have second thoughts.

At the beach, I found chest-high waves came through with decent shape! I was surprised to find how easy it was for me to catch waves and pop-up and get the right stance. I'm no longer blaming my shorter board ineptitude on my ineptitude, I'm blaming it on the crap waves I surfed prior to Sunday.

It was so much fun on Sunday, I started attempting "things." Not quite tricks, just things. On one left, I saw the shoulder line up and I got a little speed going... enough to make me think I could attempt a snap. So, I set up and threw my shoulders and hips into cranking the board up and around. I don't think I really believed I was actually going to get even *close* to a snap, so when I saw my board go up and start coming back around, I didn't know what to do. I panicked and screamed like a little girl right before I wiped out. I came up for air with a grin as bright as the day.

This morning was much the same, not quite as good a shape and not as big, but I had a really good right where I did a couple of turns and did a serious "I know what I'm doing" kick-out. I landed on my board in the perfect position and perfect direction to just start paddling back out into the line-up.

I'm so happy with my progress, I may have to reward myself with a longboarding session soon.

I've decided NOT to reward myself with a new (used) longboard. (Surfsister knows what I'm talking about.) I was seriously thinking of getting this used 10'0" Boss that's on consignment. I looked at it and it's not quite watertight, but I feel confident enough in my repair abilities to take it on. I've been casually looking for one of these for the last 6 months, but the weight of new car and new furniture purchases have made the timing of this used board really bad. I realized Sunday that my jones for the Boss came in part from my dissatisfying sessions on the shorter board. When I have decent-sized waves, I don't think about plunking down $500 on a big board with holes in it.

(Also, I just got Bob-O's number, so I'm now seriously considering saving money to order a new 10-foot board from him next year!)

Toes nowhere near the nose

I use my toes to pop-up. Most surfers have no idea what that means because they're probably popping up the correct way. On a longboard, my toe-popping style doesn't matter and probably isn't even noticeable. On a shorter board, it's problematic.

I switched boards briefly with D and found that with his 6'6", my toes had nowhere to pop when taking off on a wave, so there was no popping-up.

I don't know if I'm going to fix this problem, since my toes have a tail to touch at 7'0", but I have noticed that I'm raking my toenails across the deck when I pop-up, sometimes slowing me down. Part of the reason I do this is my toes keep the tail in the wave. Part of the reason I do this is because I'm not sure the board is going to stay underneath me when I pop-up.

Yup. I probably should fix this problem.

Just like a longboarder

So I got the paddling and the taking-off bit down on the 7'0" Okazaki, but I can't quite get my feet to the proper place on the pop-up. I find myself too far back on the board... just like a longboarder. Only, I can't walk forward on the board without the board stopping or squiggling out of the wave.

Nonetheless, I'm happy with the progress I'm making. I'm happier with the fact that I've only surfed the O the times I've been out at home on weekdays, no matter how much I want to break out the longboard.

Can accidents be avoided?

Okay. I'm alternately irked and relieved from Sunday's foray into Ventura. (And I think I'm actually surfing at the Fairgrounds, not C-Street, but I'd have to remember to ask someone to be sure.)

First, let me say that people are SO nice up there. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think that when a break is populated by longboarders of all ages, people mellow out. Or maybe I just have no perspective from surfing in the much more aggro L.A. County. It was much more crowded this week than last week -- probably because it was head-high to overhead on the sets, but even then, people were nice, waiting patiently for their waves and chatting. I met a nice woman my age who moved here from Hawaii and surfed really well with clean style. I also chatted with an old man who looked like a goat and who got two of the best outside waves of the day -- they must have been 9-feet at least.

Second, my waves were nothing to write home about. Again, I brought out the wrong board. Last week, I had Doc and the waves had no power, so I found myself paddling like mad and popping up only to dig a rail in when I cut too hard. I finally learned, but still, I let a lot of pretty decent waves go last week because of my mistake. So this week, I brought Coop, thinking it's weight would propel me down mushy point break waves. Well, yeah, propelling happened, but mushy didn't. I would have preferred Doc's lightweight speed to make it around some hairy sections. As it was, I took off on some big-ass waves that went nowhere, but the thrill of the take-off was worth it. My one good wave actually made me feel like a surfer as I made a bottom turn around a section, came to the top to feel it hollowing, stepped back to come back down and made the hollow section without wiping out, but as I came around the second bottom turn, I was too slow and saw the whole wave collapsing in front of me.

But to my point: I am irked because I pulled out of a couple of waves where I was free and clear down the line but there was someone paddling out right in front of me. There's a chance I could have taken off and cut the correct line so I wouldn't hit him, but I decided I didn't want to take the chance should I have screwed up. I had the heavy board and I didn't really feel like killing someone that morning.

Okay, I'm not irked because I was a thoughtful and caring person. I am irked because someone else, faced with the same situation with me paddling out DID NOT think to do the same thing.

So, I was paddling back out, looking for my coffee wave (the one to take me home to coffee) and I saw a two guys scrambling for a wave. I would have made it over the wave safely if it were just the first guy taking off deeper in the wave, so I'm hoping the second guy sees that he should pull back because 1) I'm right in his line and 2) there's someone else behind him. But second guy does NOT do this and first guy has to kick-out. There is no way, no time for me to correct the course of my paddle-out and eat it in the breaking part of the wave. All I can do is paddle as fast as I can and hope that second guy takes the straight drop instead of taking off at an angle right toward me. HE DOES NOT. He angles toward me on the take-off. I have no idea what the hell he's thinking. I paddle to the very last nano-second until I have to bail or get finned in the the head.

The wave washes over me and I'm hoping that my big honkin' board hasn't knocked out the shortboarder. I pop up to see the guy. I'm relieved he isn't dead. I apologize because I'm nice, not because I think I'm wrong -- but that doesn't really come across, does it? I ask if he's okay and he asks if I'm okay. We're all okay and nobody yells at each other. His friend asks if I'm okay and says the most important thing is that everybody's okay. Okay. We're all okay. And I am again amazed that everybody is so nice. Relief.

His friend says that he heard someone get a skeg hit. I look at the board. It's me. Two surgical-precision fang marks all the way through the double volan glass on the rail. I told his friend there was no way for me to change the course of my paddle and he said in that situation all you can do is throw your board toward the wave and dive under. Great. Try throwing a 35-pound 9-foot-7-inch board while you're floating in the water some day and see how that works out. Irked.

I don't know, can accidents be avoided? I say yes -- at the cost of losing what could be your best wave of the day. But isn't there always another wave coming?

***

PS. I really think I'm having allergic reactions to the red tide. It was back in force on Sunday and I spent Sunday night breathing through my mouth. Today, I'm hopped up on drugs.

PPS. At one point waiting for my coffee wave, I hear my name being called. WHA-? Nobody's supposed to know me here. I turn to shore and see Jen-n-Joey from my home break in Santa Monica waving at me. Small surf world.

What's that floating in the water?

"First flush" they call it. People are really horrible. After the rain, you can see what we do to the world lying in a mangled heap of convenient packaging discarded along the water's edge.

Waves North

I surfed Saturday and Sunday at a point break in Ventura and boy are my arms tired. Because of my laziness and beach break training, I find point breaks tiring -- even at head high -- because of all the paddling I have to do to get into the wave.

It's such a welcome break from crowded weird vibing in LA County. It's nice to surf a longboard spot with mellow people. It's odd to actually take off on a wave with shape and go down the line with NO ONE in front of you -- on the wave or paddling out. Shocking!

Manic-depressive

Better today. I don't want people to shoot me so much when I'm in the water. I'm getting more comfortable on the shorter board -- enough so that I did a "no-paddle" take-off when I was too deep on a wave and enough so that I actually walked forward on another wave that didn't have much power.

Worse today. Actually, it's always the same. Just bad. When I leave the water, go back home, shower, get in my car to go to work... the weight of the day starts pressing at each step of the process to work. It's not that all I want to do is surf all the time -- I feel like I'm over that obsession -- it's that I want to look forward to the day, but I don't.

It's always especially apparent when I have a good morning surfing (and today was, if only because I can feel marked improvement at learning the shorter board) and then get to work with the same old nothing. I need a new gig.

Grumble

I'm too lazy to ride a shortboard. I don't see why I should waste my energy paddling into a wave when I don't have to even think about it on a longboard.

I know. I'm just whining. I'll get over it. I just hate feeling like a kook.

Not quite surfing

I had a few waves today where I was actually surfing. You know, the thing you do when you get a wave with a shoulder and you pop up to your feet and turn a few times... surfing. But they were short rides and long lulls. I looked up and saw EsF get a nice long right. He kept going and going. He kept going until he hit shore. Wave of the day.

So, after more lulling and few shoulders, I saw this big steep thing come off the horizon and head right for me. I decided since I was obviously not going to get the longest wave of the day (claimed already by EsF), I would go for the most exciting wave of the day. I heard some of the pals whoop my name as they realized I wasn't backing off the close-out. I took off at the top of the wave, grabbed the rail, sped down the wall backside, miraculously kept all 9'7" of the rail from digging into the wave, closed my eyes and just waited for the smash. It didn't come when I expected it to. That was weird. Almost made me open my eyes. When the crash finally came, it wasn't where I thought it was going to be, namely, on me. Either I had been in a barrel and made it out of a section, or I was nowhere near as tucked in like I thought I was. "Surfing" blind.

Cheap thrills.

Old and creaky

It was my first day back in the water after two weeks and a cold. I forgot how much fun surfing can be when the water is clear enough to see stingrays underfoot and the sun is lighting up the sky (and unfortunately blazing down on fires in the valley). I also forgot how easy it is to lose muscle, cardio-vascular capacity, and timing when all you do is lay in bed and blow snot out your nose for two weeks.

137 pounds, 1 virus infection, 1 week no surf

I came back from the east coast with a cold. I would be okay if it were a normal cold, instead, I have the mother of all sore throats. I've never been in such pain. But a visit to the doctor told me I'd lost three pounds, even though there was nothing she could do for my throat.

I also came back from the east coast with a grudging acknowledgment that I'm no spring chicken anymore. I headbanged my way through a song late in a Cape Cod wedding reception only to wake up the next morning with a kink in my neck which progressed all the way down my back by the end of the day when we had driven to meet my brother in Boston. I was sitting in his back-room poker game with a backache that unfortunately, and amazingly, outweighed my curiosity at his vaguely shady hobby.

That said, I've missed and will continue to miss this swell until I'm well.

Hopefully fewer pounds, 0 cigs, 0 alcohol units, no breakfast

I'm really glad I'm going to be out of town this weekend, because I could see the sets start rolling in this morning and it wasn't pretty -- but it looked FUN. If I'd done what I wanted to do this morning and taken out my 9'0" thruster, I'd probably have taken my share of suicide drops. But no, I kept to my commitment to ride the short(er)board until I learned how to ride it -- which I haven't done yet, so I hesitated on waves that the adrenaline junkie in me would have paddled for.

At 7am, there were some shoulders and I managed to hit the lip going backside -- ugly, but I did it. By 8am, I was shivering in my springsuit because wave after wave was big and unrideable. Gloved Guy was taking some insane drops and, from over one close-out, I could hear him hollering all the way down. When he paddled back out, I laughed at him.

"We could hear you yelling, 'Whooooo!' on your entire ride. That's a good thing because then we know you're okay!"

I'm glad I'm not going to be here this weekend. I'd be tempted to be a part of the carnage. Weekend warriors and crowded point breaks. Good times. I'll be thinking of y'all while I have lobster rolls on the Cape and chomp on a hot dog at Fenway.

140 pounds, 1 beer, 1 cigarette, 1 Killer Shrimp

I thought donating a pint of blood to the American Red Cross would bring me down a pound. I was in the doctor's office with my shoes off, hoping that bleeding the day before would tip the scale in my favor. It didn't happen.

Me and the Okazaki are doing better, but I still wonder why people feel the need to ride shortboards and "paddle." What is this "paddling?" Isn't it better to be up and riding a wave instead of swimming all the time?

I have to keep reminding myself that I have to ride this board like I don't have two longboards sitting dry in the garage if I want to learn how to ride this board. Good thing I'm going away this weekend so I won't be tempted to break out the 9'0" thruster when the purported monster waves come rolling through.

140 pounds, 1 beer, 0 cigarettes, 1 short(er) board

7'0" Okazaki and me = v. bad.

I'm indulging my Bridget Jones neuroses at the moment. I'm taking a page from chick lit to chronicle my ill-fated relationship with a shorter board. I'm not usually weight conscious, but I stepped on a scale for the first time in a year... and I'll never do that again!

I'd rather wash dishes

I surfed with N at Pipes in Encinitas this weekend. COLD! What happened to the water temp? On Sunday, I paddled a lot for rolling waves that didn't break. I turned to my friend and said, "Where have you taken me?! Don't you know me? I DON'T PADDLE!" But I got some nice long rides that made up for it. It's nice taking off on a wave and consistently finding a shoulder ahead of you.

On Monday, I was frozen because I'd learned my lesson from the day before. Don't paddle for waves that look good on the horizon, but peter out at the line-up. Since I didn't paddle, I didn't stay warm. Still, though, consistently kicking out frontside made the session worthwhile. Now, if only I could learn how to do that going backside.

Tuesday, back at the home break. Sunny. Warm water. BUT it's so hard to go back to those dumpy close-outs when you've had two days with shapely waves. It was so hard to go back to those close-outs that I woke up this morning at 6:30 and briefly pondered loading up the surf gear only to decide to clean the kitchen instead.

***

Also, not in surf news, I've been having a hard time giving the Red Cross a monetary donation (but they're getting my blood). I just don't feel like giving a percentage of my dollar to administrative fees in this case. I gave to them when it came to the tsunami in December, but for some reason I feel like the behemoth organization is not the best way to get things done here in the States. That's part of the social ethos that got us into this mess -- we rely too much on a large organization (the federal government and the despicable Bush administration) that doesn't have a clue about what's best on the local level.

(By the way, I heard Halliburton and their subsidiaries have already been awarded the contract to rebuild the military bases in Louisiana. Your tax dollars are going straight into the pockets of Dick Cheney, once he's done with his gig as VP of the U.S.)

I am impressed with the work of a local comedienne named Tig Notaro who will be driving down to her home town of Pass Christian, Mississippi. She's renting a truck in L.A. and making the trek to drive supplies down to Mississippi on Thursday. I'm about to get my ass off this chair and use my lunch break to buy things like bottled water and diapers. It's not going to be tax-deductible, but at least I know that the dollars I spend are going to directly effect a person's life.

Malibu, 2nd point in the evening

First time at Malibu ever for me last night. It was crowded at 1st point, but I stood and watched the sexy sexayyyy longboarders do their thing. I took Coop to the hairier 2nd point to meet Dean and Steve. Head high set waves... and I always seemed to take the first one. I would turn to paddle out and see, on the horizon, a series of 5 more that I had to turtle and drown under. But still, I was happy to have a big and non-threatening (big waves, non-grumpy people) introduction to the spot. Grumpy people concern me more than big waves -- why is that? Maybe because nature is dispassionate in doling out its punishment. People, not so much.

This morning, I think I was a bit kamikaze at my break. I feel bad about that, but people kept paddling to where I was. See? People suck. I suck. I get grumpy and I get stupid. And I got the bigger, heavier board.

Heh heh...

Head high!

Two nice bombs of a right that stayed open on Sunday and Monday. LOVE it. I had a dentist appointment scheduled for Tuesday morning, but I've moved it in hopes of catching a few more.

I'm slightly worried that paddling into head high close-outs doesn't get my adrenaline going like it used to, because I'm afraid I might be tempted to chase adrenaline in the future. But I think I'm just being neurotic about worrying.

First words

I woke up this morning and something was different.

"Oh my god. It's sunny."

I usually don't talk aloud to myself and there was no one in bed with me, so you know how exciting the sight of blue skies through my window was for me to mutter words first thing. I hopped out of bed and suited up and knew there wasn't going to be great waves where my time could allow me to go, but I went. Swimsuit and boardshorts. Funky tan lines. Paddled out to the buoy twice.

Sun-ny.

3 times to the buoy

It takes me a minute and 30 seconds to get out to the buoy doing a regular paddle and a minute 40 to get back knee-paddling. I only timed my last paddle to the buoy today, so this is a purely unscientific presumption: I suck at knee-paddling.

Pretty, but never

Gene just did this. It's a very pretty 12-foot gun. Gorgeous, but I am at this moment promising myself that I will never be in a position to want a 12-foot gun. Overhead to double, okay. But I will not ever, never, no stinkin' way, set my sights for anything that needs a 12-foot gun.

Goofies all the way down

There's this earth/existence myth. I don't know which culture, but it starts with a person saying that the earth was supported on the back of a giant turtle. When asked what the turtle was standing on, the reply is, "It stands on the back of another turtle. It's turtles all the way down."

I surfed "LPB" for the first time with Surf Sister and CYT. Last year, I'd stopped there for a peek on my way to find surf. Shoulder-to-head-high FUN. I was so happy to watch all the little rippers and take my own drops that I got a little excited. I was so amped that on one wave, I forgot to look to my right down the line. I dropped in on CYT (who I swear makes every wave she paddles for). SORRY! Luckily, I saw her bright board and was able to grab my rail, stall, pull back, and hold on to my board so nothing and no one got banged up. BAD BAD GRACE.

But way fun otherwise. My first wave was a steep drop that I just had to get out of my system. It was big and had no shape whatsoever. I held onto the rail and just tucked in, speeding down the face of the wall. I got smashed on the inside, but the adrenaline was worth it.

I've never seen so many goofy-footers congregated in one place in my life. Goofies all the way down.

Full Moon

I surfed Full Moon Topanga last night with Firefly Mark.

SHIT. THAT's what surfing's all about. Use the Force, Luke.

Clear skies, picturesque light pollution coming off Santa Monica in the distance, and moonlight glinting off the rolling chest-high waves.

It took me a while to get the hang of it, and it took me a while to actually get into a wave because I was nervous about the quick hollowing of the point which always kicked my ass -- even when I could SEE it. But I got a few -- nothing like Firefly got -- but my favorite ride was one where the spotlights from shore reflected off the wave hollowing out and I took off anyway. I made it and was trying to get trim, but it was too fast for my Cooperfish and my lack of ability. I got tossed like I haven't gotten tossed in a while and it was my favorite ride.

Why?

Because this is how I learn. I am a student of the Wipe-Out School of surfing. You wipe-out. You figure out what you did wrong. You change. You wipe-out again. You adjust. You do this enough and then it clicks.

On a normal chest-high DAY at Topanga, there would be fifty grumbling guys at the point and if you got worked by a wave like I got worked on that wave, there would be no chance of you EVER getting to take-off and get worked again.

I was happy to be able to wipe-out at Topanga without all the pressure. I need more of those waves.

Cooperkook

After weeks of flat, I knew today everybody would be out en masse to any of the point breaks that would take the South swell. I drove to Sunset with my Cooperfish Hornet, repaired, unwaxed, and saw 100 people sitting and waiting at 6:30. No thank you. I'd rather take my chances with close-outs at a beach break.

I ended up at the Pier and it was pretty much as Uncle Grant said (sans yesterday's Catholic guilt). But it was better than OP and I just liked the look of waves higher than my knee.

It took a thousand years to wax my newly repaired board, and I ran out of wax. But there was no way I was getting up to the nose anyhow. I paddled out.

Man, did I stink!

After actually starting to figure out Sensei J's huge-ass board, I was all wrong on my own board. I didn't even know how far forward or back on the board I was supposed to be when paddling out. Then, first wave, one with an actual shoulder... I friggin' kooked out and pearled. PEARLED! When's the last time I did THAT?

I figured out that I'd been shifting all my weight forward when paddling for a wave on the log so as to gain enough momentum to get in the wave. I didn't have to throw my whole body into it on my board. Fixed.

On a left, I was so far back on the tail that when I moved to turn it off the top, the board swung wildly out of the water. Obviously, my body expected to haul 35 pounds of log. I didn't have to do that either. Fixed.

I caught a few decent rides after those initial disasters. Still, though, not quite dialed back into my board. I guess I shouldn't have expected a homecoming with open arms.

It was the breast of times...

It was the worst of times.

I went out today because I've grown large and I thought a little paddle might help. I raced J-Deluxe out to the buoy. He won. Bastard. But he showed me how to make my knee-paddle more efficient.

Before the swarms of people showed up to (not) get (craptacular) waves, I had a surprisingly nice left -- the only wave with any kind of shoulder. I steered the borrowed boat of a board pretty well and was able to do a top-turn. As the wave closed, I did my patented stall and fall onto the leashless board (since I can't kick-out). Unfortunately, the water angled the board a little and hit me right in the breast. That's gonna leave a mark.

Everybody else is amped up because of this supposed swell coming in. I know better. I'm not a true surfer because I'm not that optimistic. I think those islands are in the way. I think we'll have more surf than we've had in the last two weeks, but I don't think it's going to be anywhere near chest-high. And we're talkin' about MY chest, the bruised one. As a short dumpy Asian chick, chest-high is about three feet off the ground.

My baby's back!

Coop looks better than when I bought it used. Aqua Tech color-matched it almost perfectly. Shiny!

Coop's back. Now, where are those waves?

Whaddaya use for bait?

Suzy Q called last night and said she was going to Sunset in the AM. I shrugged and said I'd go for a drive.

At 7am, there was nothing in the line-up except for a couple kayakers, a bunch o' birds, and Sherman sitting on his board casting a line with his fishing pole. I wonder if he caught anything?

What a gorgeous board

I pulled into Aqua Tech this morning before work just to harass them. Ken was nice (and working with a guy who'd brought in a beautiful longboard with a nose concave). He looked for my board and I immediately spotted it on the saw-horses. Big sleek glassed-in fin. Ken apologized and said it should be wet-sanded and ready at the end of the day. There's nothing to surf in the water, so I'm not overly worried. I was just happy to see all 9'7" of it.

Seeing Coop reminded me of this exercise I did at a writers' retreat years ago. We paired off and one person was blindfolded while the other person led the blindfolded partner to a tree. Any tree at the retreat. My friend led me from the clipped grass, over rocks, through weeds. I could hear the sounds of the ever-rushing river move from my left ear to my right as I turned and felt the sun on my face. When she put my hands on the bark of a tree, I was allowed two minutes to touch the tree, walk around it, smell and taste it if I liked, then she led me back to our starting point.

After taking off the blindfold, I was supposed to retrace my steps to try to find the tree. Crunching over gravel, hearing the river, feeling the sun, I knew I was going in the right direction. Then I got lost. I didn't know where to go from there.

I'm admitting this now after all these years... I cheated. I turned slowly in a circle and mumbled a little as if I was trying to get my bearing, but I glanced at my friend when she thought I wasn't looking. I saw her dart a look in a particular direction. I knew that was the way I was supposed to go.

(I also knew at that moment she would be a horrible poker player.)

So I made some noise about thinking maybe possibly I was going the right way and I stumbled off in the direction she inadverdently pointed. I walked about ten feet over some weeds and rocks and there it was. The tree stood there with its arms akimbo, "What took you so long?"

This is probably the closest I can come to explaining what a dream is like. I mean, when you're dreaming, you "see" images without actually seeing them. I didn't actually have the visual stimulus of actually seeing this tree, but I recognized it instantly. The tree was exactly as I had pictured it... without actually having pictured it.

And all this is to say that I had a similar feeling of "What took you so long?" when I saw my board.

And to say that there are no waves, so I'm talking about trees.

Who needs therapy?

I don't really have a subconscious. That is, my dreams tend to be pretty straightforward. Last night I dreamt I got my Cooperfish back from its repair visit to Aqua Tech. And I dreamt it was the size of a boogie board. It was also incredibly thin, like a dinner tray.

I think it's been over a month now. I've called every week or every other week and they tell me it's gonna take another couple of days. I think it's probably time to pay them a visit. I just want to make sure my board, all 9'7" of it, is there.

To suck or not to suck

I'm wondering if it's better to suck in a wildly stinkerific kind of way or if it's better to just suck in a mediocre kind of way as I am doing.

I need a beater nose-rider. That's the next board on my "want" list. I want something that is huge, heavy, doesn't turn from anywhere but the tail, but is also old and cheap so I won't worry about hurting it as I learn.

A little better, but I still suck

I'm still not getting far enough back on the tail with this board, but it was better. I was at Sunset at some darkish-early time because I had to pick up my mom from the airport in the AM and I thought I'd get a few mushy waves in an effort to become less frustrated with my below-par skill set. I was able to kick-out in that lame floop-over way on one wave, so I figure I'm starting to get the hang of this Nose Devil thing.

The hardest part of the session, though, was bringing the board down the stairs and off the cement platform. If it were my board, I'd be less ginger with it. Since it's borrowed, I tend to be a little precious about it. I can't handle the pressure of dropping the thing on rocks; I'm parking at the dirt ramp next time.

I suck

I hadn't surfed in over a week. Reports of lack-luster surf couldn't drag me out into the marine layer grey, but I went out on Sunday just to be social. I had the Okazaki-7' which I could have surfed. There was enough punch in the water, but Sensei J had his 9'7" Cooperfish Nose Devil (nose concave, wide, square tail, big honkin' fin) and I thought it might be fun to go back to a big heavy board. First wave I took and I thought I was just rusty after a month of not surfing a heavy board and because I couldn't turn the goddamn thing. It's amazing how different this 9'7" Nose Devil is to my 9'7" Hornet model. Second wave I took and I started to realize that this board is a little beyond my skill set on a beach break.

MAYBE I'd do better at a point break.

MAYBE I just suck.

I was also on Sensei J's borrowed J.J. Perrin (sp?) which I liked better because it's a similar shape to my 30-year-old weirdo board that I haven't ridden in a year. I caught waves just fine, but I don't rip like Sensei J...

Yet. I don't surf like Sensei J yet. Someday, I'll grow up to be just like Papa Bear.

Today, though, no. He loaned me his Cooperfish for the week since mine is still in the shop and Mark still has Doc. I didn't wake up early enough to hit a point break, so I was back at OP. Okay. So I can make one turn, but I don't really "get" the board. I don't know what to do after I make the turn, especially when faced with a crappy wave with no shoulder. Gah! Tomorrow, I'm going to be haunting a point break near you.

PS. Where are you, Sir Richard?

No surfing, just thinking sexy thoughts

I haven't surfed in about a week, but it doesn't sound like there's been much to miss. So, instead, I've been thinking. I've been thinking about the terrorist attacks in London and in Egypt... and the racial backlash and media depiction that isn't helping racial tensions. But this blog is about surfing... so much more important...

So, intermittently, I've also been thinking about the age-old fight (not quite as old as the one in Gaza): longboarders vs. shortboarders.

The last time I was on the shorter board, I gazed down the line at a stout man in boardshorts as he calmly floated to his feet on the huge-ass board and then flicked the board over the wave when it was ready to kick out. I thought, "Sex-ayyyy!" Then I thought, when was the last time that I saw a shortboarder on a wave and thought how sexy he was? Never really ever. Sure, I think he's talented, ripping a wave apart and all, but never do I think about how that guy might handle a woman (or a man, should that be the persuasion).

There is just something crazy sexy about a guy who can keep control of more than 9 feet of foam and fiberglass in a chaotic environment.

Snap!

In a sort of unsightly panicked move on the O-7 (Guy O 7'0") today, I actually snapped off the top of a puny wave going backside. Woo! I'm sure it didn't look pretty, but it felt good when I stuck the landing.

Yeahhhh... I meant to do that.

blah blah blah

I had to paddle away from Posing Boy today. I heard too much talking. Too much talking without saying anything. Same stuff I heard a long time ago. Repeating repeating repeating.

Funny tan lines

Yesterday I was hot in a spring suit, so today I was in a swimsuit and boardshorts.

Yesterday was fun, but I knew Thruster Doc was pooping out on the smaller waves, so today I put the 2+1 back in and gave it to a friend to ride while I went out on Dragon, my Guy O 7'0". I bought this board back in October from Nedra. I surfed it twice and then Cooperfish came into my life and never looked back.

Since I'm going to Costa Rica, and because the hopper plane between San Jose and Liberia only fits up to 7'0" boards, I have to practice before I take Dragon down there. I told my reasoning to Big Red Truck Billy in the water and he asked me, "When are you going?"

"December."

He laughed.

I know it's a long time away, but I'm one of those anal-retentive people who likes to be as prepared as possible. I want to be so comfortable on this board that I don't have to think.

To that end, I have to say that I was surprised how easy the whole transition was this morning. This board Guy made is really great. My problem is not knowing exactly where to position myself on the board when I paddle. Most of the time, I was too far forward and I buried the nose before the take-off. Buried the nose! On a short(ish)board! Other than that, the waves were surprisingly easy to catch and we all know turning on a shortboard is nothing compared to cranking around a longboard.

Now, if I can just stop surfing it like a longboard...

Thruster vs. 2+1

More on my latest obsession in this Q&A on Surfline. It explains why and how fins work.

Doc Lausch made my 9'0" with a lot of rocker and a bump in the tail to "loosen" it up. It also has a really hard rail at the tail and a round pin for bigger waves. He also makes his boards REALLY light and is generally known for his shortboards. I'm pretty sure this is why I surf my Doc like a long shortboard (or I'm trying to).

I've discovered, as the swell has gone down, that a thruster longboard doesn't work as well in small waves. Bigger waves, though, yi-yi-yi! Swoop down and up and back down again to make the most of the wave. Luckily, today, with the tide push, there were still a few larger left-over waves that came rolling through for me.

9'0" thruster

LOVE it.

It drives through turns and makes me feel large.

Pier-ing over the ledge

Checked three spots this morning because of the alleged swell coming in. Sunset first, no. Then OP which looked about the same as yesterday. Then the Pier. Bobby G. and I could hear it before we could see it. The bigger waves were head high with no shape. The waves were stacked up one after the other (annoying at times), and they were hitting the sandbar pretty hard.

Well, that just sounds like fun. We suited up.

I'm still not completely in tune with the thruster set-up. I had a lot of fun drops today, but I'm not sure if it was because of the close-outs or if it was because of how I was surfing that I couldn't really make a true bottom turn on the bigger drops. On the plus side, the thruster longboard is really fast.

Best wave of the day was my second to last. There was a smaller wave in front of a much larger wave looming toward me. I decided to take the smaller wave that had better shape, knowing full well that I was going to get pummelled AFTER my kick-out. The wave had a decent shoulder and I was going frontside so I could see the bigger wave behind it waving at me with its giant, darkening hand. I waved back and saluted (seemed appropriate to acknowledge it at the time). I kicked out of the smaller wave in order to immediately dive off my board into the dark water, under the crest of the larger wave.

Tinkering: 9'0" thruster

Yup. It works. I would prefer better waves with this set up. (Wouldn't we all?) Crazy Johnny wasn't so crazy. I can feel the new tri-fin Doc want to make sweeping drives off the bottom, but with the close-outs of OP today on a low tide, that wasn't going to happen so much. Bigger waves, bigger faces, that's what I need with this set-up. Weirdly, I wonder if I had had smaller fins might today's smallish close-outs been more fun and racier? At one point, I was thinking of going back to my car to put in the little side bites and keeping the G5 center fin in place. Stay tuned, mad scientist at work.

My eye!

I'm going to rename this blog and call it "Random Body Parts."

So, I was planning to surf this morning and try out the thruster set-up on the longboard. Though it occurred to me that my first board was a used 1980s neon orange 8'6" Doc Lausch board with a glassed on thruster set-up. The fins were light blue. 50/50 rails in the middle with a bump to transition to a hard rounded pintail. It was 24" wide and 3" thick. I broke it because I like big waves and steep take-offs.

I digress.

I was planning to surf the new fin set-up this morning on Doc, but I made guacamole last night. Sounds like a non-sequitur, but follow:

• My guacamole recipe includes a finely chopped jalapeno pepper.
  
• I woke up at 7:25, which is on the verge of being too late for me to get a decent session in before work, but not late enough for me not to try to get to the water.
  
• I stumbled to the bathroom to put on my contacts.
  
• I evidently did not wash my hands very thoroughly after making the guacamole.
  
• "Ouch" would be an understatement.
  

I spent fifteen minutes splashing water into my burning eye, thus pushing me past the time where I could make it to the beach and get in a decent surf session before work.

Sometimes I'm such an idiot.

New board for $60?

I'm glad that even though I don't surf for a week, I'm still able to hop back on the board with some amount of confidence. Saturday, I was pleasantly surprised by the waves that came through. From shore they looked like close-outs. From the water, they still looked like close-outs, but there were also the surprising shoulders that peeked out. Nice amount of wave energy and I felt like I was really getting to understand how to hug the face of the wave... at least going frontside.

Somewhere amid the fun, I snapped off the left side fin in my 2+1 set-up on Doc. I don't know when I could have done it. I didn't kook out that day and run it into the ground.

Sunday I decided to take the other side bite out and try surfing Doc as a single-fin -- 7-inch single fin. Hmmm. I had my doubts. I tried not to make judgments on the first few waves and wait instead until I had finished my whole session. In the end, it was a fun time, but I could feel the difference and I didn't really like it. This is not a single-fin board... at least it's not a 7-inch single-fin board. There was no drive into the wave.

Walking back up to the parking lot, I ran into Johnny who encouraged me to take on a thruster set-up on the performance longboard. Whaa---? Hmm. I've always said that Doc is a long shortboard, so I figured why the hell not?! Sensei J has a bright yellow 9'0" Hawaiian T&C performance board with three tiny fins -- it's a board he reserves for waves with big faces. So, hell, why not? I bought a FCS center fin converter and a set of G5 fins (on Johnny's suggestion). I haven't tried it yet, but there's some waves coming. This could be fun. 9'0" longboard thruster. Wacky.

If this works, I theoretically have a whole new board for $60... and I'd be interested in playing around with fin set-ups and seeing how they work. Brave new world! And cheaper than buying a whole board.

The nose

At first I thought it was allergies, then I wondered if it was a cold. Now I think it's the red tide that has been screwing with my sinuses. I don't usually get allergies, but I have had a couple of freak incidents in the last few years. I took some medication to alleviate the symptoms. That was three weeks ago. Then, when it really wasn't getting any better, I thought maybe it was a cold. So I took more medication to alleviate the symptoms. That was a week and a half ago.

Now, after my symptoms have progressed to the point of not being able to smell certain smells (those in the more smokey, savory range), and after I started complaining to some surfers, I think it's the red tide. I think something is screwing with not only the sensory nerves in my nose, but it's also screwing with the receptors in my brain. This SUCKS. I'd just quit smoking this year and food was starting to taste REALLY GOOD and now this happens.

When a friend came over on Monday, I had a finger of my favorite single malt scotch and was surprised at how little I could taste of it. There was still the fun burning sensation down the throat, but the smokiness of this particular scotch was completely missing.

And lest you think me a complete lush, I also fixed a pot of Darjeeling/Assam blend of loose leaf tea when a dinner party on Sunday retired to my place for dessert. I remembered the Darjeeling/Assam blend to be a smokey tea, especially after steeping so long between entertaining anecdotes. Everybody in the party was saying how great the tea was, but I couldn't smell or taste a thing.

I haven't been in the water for the last two days, but it hasn't really gotten better. I think I might have to go to the doctor before I start to freak out. I thought maybe being able to taste less would make me want to eat less, but instead, I seem to be shoveling food into my mouth at twice the normal rate in the hopes that the next bite will stimulate SOMETHING besides the growth of new fat cells.