After being in a wind and water washing machine yesterday, I woke up this morning and looked outside, taken aback by the sight of still leaves and motionless palm trees. As I got ready for day 155 in a row of surfing, I kept darting to the window to see if the lack of movement I had seen mere seconds before was in fact real, not trusting my tired eyes. I peeled out the door and my sandy wagon stopped me at Knob hill in Redondo Beach, and just as I was about to get out of my car I heard a deep and not so friendly “You can’t park here!” I looked up from my phone and out of my car window expected to see an unfamiliar scowl, but instead to my surprise was looking at Bryan Mineo, accomplished swim coach, and we giggled at my startled reaction. As Bryan made his way down to the beach to train some clients, I joined Mike Purpus in looking at the overhead sets come in, and to my dismay that glorious lack of wind turned sour and the air started swirling, blasting over the waves. I decided that I had had enough of a beating yesterday and hit the road south for my shelter, comfort zone, and place to recharge — Doheny.
On the drive down, coming from the sunny South Bay, I hit a large patch of random fog on the freeway near garden grove that lasted a few minutes, and when I emerged it felt like I had been somehow cleansed of yesterday’s struggle. As I pulled up to Dana Point, the calm, glassy waters and friendly glimpse of sun poking through, sparkling on the surface, had me sitting on the beach staring and mediating in appreciation for over an hour. Even though the surf was quite small and the water (being near a harbor and after a rain) was dreadfully dirty, I joined one other soul out and we both switched off and shared some delightful knee to waist high rides, talking between waves about the places we’ve been to and want to eventually go.
Only bad part about today? Stepping into a damp and freezing cold wetsuit. I have to stop doing that shit and hang it up to dry…. guarantee it won’t be the last time though.
