Relearning the Art-In which the author commits to make the transition from kook to waterman

Ever since I knew I'd be coming down to Santa Monica I knew that I'd need some new hobbies.  Having left the cars and motorcycles in the garage (and living room) of our home in Northern California,  I knew I'd be in need of some new activities to keep me occupied.  Fortunately the weather here in Southern California is suitable for lots of outdoor activities, one of the coolest of which is surfing.  Years ago I learned to surf in Santa Cruz and for a few years I was obsessed with the sport.  This was 1987, I was an undergraduate student and spent many days driving over the hill to Santa Cruz in search of waves.  Unfortunately Santa Cruz is either full of massive powerful waves pumping out of winter time swells, or small and sloppy.  There's not much in between.  Combine that with 56 degree, kelp littered and white shark infested and it's not for the faint of heart.  Painfully, I stopped surfing.  Every year during our Thanksgiving trip to Oahu I would be reminded of my love of surfing and fantasize about starting up again.  Then I'd return to the Northern California winter and say "maybe in the Spring".  Now, living in Santa Monica, I had no excuse.  Recently a trip to Bocas del Toro, Panama ended with me again sitting in board shorts in beautiful water remembering how much I loved the activity.   

 10.21.2006-we headed back down to Dog Beach in search of more waves.  On this day the surf was much bigger and more consistent.  There was clearly a swell that was pumping energy in to the entire section from the pier in town all the way north to Dog's.   The waves were head high and occasionally sets would come through even larger.  This time I watched for at least 20 minutes or longer, searching for the channel and rips, before suiting up and paddling out.  This time I got worked.  I was definitely part of the food chain and within 20 minutes I'd been blown a good 500 yards up the coast.  There was clearly a strong current that was part of this swell.  I paddled back out again, my arms tiring once more, but committed to getting a good ride or two.  "Patience", I again told myself. 

Surfing is not easy to learn, and it takes time to become an accomplished waterman.  It's tiring, frustrating, and dangerous if not treated with respect.  It can also be one of the most rewarding sports in the world, as anyone who has felt the power of a wave will quickly tell you.  My patience and hard work paid off, and while it wasn't a long, glamorous or classic ride, it was my ride, and my wave for the day.  I caught a few other small rides, but for the most part, my day was done, and my stoke for the week complete.  My arms were sore and tired, but I was already dreaming of next week.

10.15.2006-my first real day of surfing.  The waves were perfect for my re-introduction to surfing, about chest high, not blown out, and fairly consistent.  I really had no idea what to expect, and was a bit too enthusiastic, paddling out before I really had taken the time to understand the break.  I managed to get to the lineup without getting worked too badly but quickly tired and came back in frustrated.  "Take your time, remember this sport takes patience", I told myself.

After a short rest I wrapped the leash around my right ankle and headed back out.  My arms were tired (there are few exercises that can match the action of surfing) but I managed to get a small ride or two, in the small, closeout sections.  It was far from the glassy faced head high rights I'd dreamt about, but the feeling and energy were there.

10.14.2006-Chel and I went down to Huntington Beach to take our dogs to "Dog Beach", which as it turns out is a nice little beach break.  On this particular day it was pretty blown out and sloppy and I didn't really think it was a good spot to surf, but I asked one of the locals if it ever got any good.   "Sure does", he said.  Hmmmmmmm........surfing, with my dogs and wife on the same beach?  The water's in the 60s?  No sharks?  I think I like this place.  On the way home Chel and I stop by a surf shop advertising a wetsuit sale and I pick up a nice Quiksilver 4:3 for a good price.  Now all I need is a board.

Later that night we go to Zuma Jay's Boardshop, where I got my skateboard a few weeks earlier.  For those of you that remember the old Dogtown days, this shop is where the original shop was located.  For skateboarders and surfers alike, it's something of a historical landmark.  I'd been researching boards and shapes for some time and decided upon a "Flyer", shaped by Al Merrick of Channel Islands.  This again was something of an homage to the past as I surfed a Channel Islands board in the mid 80s.  The price of surfboards has gone up dramatically since the old days, especially with the recent lost of Clark Foam, but then so has my salary.  I walked out with a brand new surfboard.  Later that night I tied on the leash and gave it a fresh coat of wax.  I dreamt that night of surfing warm water waves as my dogs and wife played on the beach.

Here's a picture of the brand new board.