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Sept. 11,
2001
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Intel |
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Awoke early this June 27th Tuesday morning. Had a day off and so
fired up the hardware sniffing for any, even remote, sign of surf on the
planet. While the machine was starting up got on the phone to call
the local surf lines. Started with last night's closing report:
"Flat. Ankle high
dribble at the beach. Forget it"
then went to the current early morning line: "Less
than knee high at both beaches. Forget it."
I should have eaten breakfast first to combat the dreaded surf
withdrawal pangs which start with dribble surf reports on the one day
you can hit the beach. Things didn't look good at this point. Meanwhile the hardware ground to its customary halt with missing file messages. Really should have deleted that program using the system "Add/delete programs properties" rather than shelling into Dos and killing the directory, er, Windows 98 "folder". Old habits die hard. Bypassed the errors and waited some more. In a few minutes went on line and, more out of habit than smarts (after all, it was flat), checked a certain buoy on the East coast. It said "5.6 feet". 5.6 FEET? Forget breakfast . . . is this a current report? Is this real or am I dreaming? Well, the buoy sure thinks it's real! Ate a quick breakfast, threw the gear into Large Pickup and charged to the water. Parked and looked over the hill: waist high confused wind chop type waves even though there was no wind. No one else around. Went out and spent a few hours riding non-existent surf. Caught a few decent rides. In June. Alone. Take any wave you want. Cool. Near noon came in finally and went looking for food. Scored a grinder and drove to another break right in the middle of allegedly "ankle high" territory. Passed Nathan on his way back to work. Got to the point and . . . whoa thar podner - waist to chest high rights pealing off. Big Eddie was there with his long board scoping out the horizon, sun glasses firmly in place. Very brief conversation. I thought, given the current tide situation, that things would pick up a bit in maybe an hour so went to town to do some things. Came back and it was a little cleaner. Less than a half dozen people in the water. Am I dreaming? He he. Dr. Surf knows just what to do. Great googliemoogelie . . . put on the wet gear and get it wetter! Some of the winter regulars were out there so it was kind of a mini_winter reunion in June. Love that chest high dribble. Surfed my brains out for a few more hours. Came in finally with a sun burnt face and a big grin. Which brings us to the title of this short piece. Occasionally the local surfing intell(igence): telephone surf reports, cams and rumors all are wrong and there is decent rideable surf. A part of the hunt is sometimes just getting in the car and heading out despite the reports. Sometimes, by the time you get there, the swell might just arrive and you too, my friend, can score. Buoys are our friends. |
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© 2000 RWFarnum |
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