I have this wonderful ability to fall asleep pretty much whenever and wherever I want. I don't take proper naps, instead I just nod off when I'm on the plane, or when I'm sitting in line at the bank. I can kindof even sleep standing up, like in line at Disneyland on a crowded day. Every town near the beach seems to have a friend's couch I can call home; it doesn't matter how uncomfortable the couch is, after a couple beers any couch will do. or just sleep on the floor. And then there's always camping, or sleeping in your van, or the driver's seat of your truck like I did on Friday night. yeah, I could have bought a hotel room, but that would have required further effort and money, not that I'm a totally cheap bastard but I definitely appreciate living the same life I've always lived. I did surf treks to Baja and camped in a van throughout high school and college. I moved to Costa Rica while camping on a school bus. Taking the path less traveled and experiencing life is what it is all about.
I say that, but tonight I'm flying to Los Angeles and have a ten hour layover and instead of sleeping in the airport terminal as I normally do I'm going to get a hotel room with a big tv, order some delivery pizza, and fall to sleep. Tomorrow morning I'll get that flight to Miami, to catch another flight to Liberia, get home at night, then have only Tuesday and Wednesday morning to hang with my family before I'm off again.
I would like to have more time with my boys and with Holly, and I will after this Nicaragua boat trip. Our house is almost done being fixed up... the Zori will have been given hundreds and hundreds of hours of care as we finish this major period of upgrades. I spent the day driving around San Diego today, shopping for Holly and the boys, and for the Zori. I got this sweet Garmin hand held color GPS unit. I found the Central and South America Pacific Coast chip and bought it. Also some vhf radios, a solar flashlight, some stainless doodads, some netting, some shoes for Happy that light up when he walks, a skateboard for Otis, some old curtains from the cottages in OB, a mac airport extreme router, a new hard drive, powdered electrolyte drink mix, my shred sled, some new books, so much gear to a point where I just checked in 2 49.5 pound bags. At least my homecoming will be a little like Santa showing up, which is the least I can do after missing valentines day and taking off on a surf trip on the Zori three days from now.
And as my mind constantly returns to the sport, art, and life that is surf, let me remember the beautiful waves I experienced these last couple of days. On Friday the swell report was looking pretty good with that big NW swell on its way, so I packed the sleeping bag and surf gear and drove the truck north up to Ventura. C Street was looking about chest high and fairly glassy on Friday afternoon, and I had over 2 hours left until dark, so of course I went surfing. I had a lot of really fun right handers… long waves that were kindof fluffy even though there was a little size. C Street can be really fun, even though its not nearly as pitching of a wave as Rincon. The sets started coming in at about head high by the time the sun was setting. While I'm out surfing I strike up a conversation only once, with one guy, a guy named Steve from Oregon. He had just driven down and it was the first time he'd surfed C Street. I tell him I'm from Tamarindo, and ironically he lived in Tamarindo for a couple of years back in the 90s. Then we find that we share the same friends, and that last Sunday I was surfing Marbella with the same Jimmy that just two weeks ago was staying at Steve's house in Oregon. something about how they were skiing and tripping acid, but then a set wave came and I lost track of him out in the water after that. Amazingly coincidental yet predictable how us surfers tend to be, always on the search for that next perfect wave. When you omit all of the nonsurfers the world really is a very small place.
So Saturday morning John Hugo Alexander drives down from Arroyo Grande. I wake up before dawn in desperate need of coffee. We meet back at the C St parking lot and find the swell has filled in even more but that the tide is quite high. We drive up the coast towards Santa Barbara. As we near Rincon, its apparent that the wave is firing and not too many people are out. Its still only 630am. Its about 45 degrees outside, the wind is blowing offshore, and my wetsuit is absolutely freezing from sitting wet in the truck all night. Only the truly committed cross this line. I manage the wetsuit and a hypothermia-combatting surfer's jog to the water. And the rewards of driving up here and camping out and trying to time the swell perfectly?… perfect Rincon. Not too crowded, tons of waves. Tons of long waves. Multiple barrels. John Hugo on one side, Joel Tudor on the other side. I ended a four hour Rincon session with a couple of waves that will be embedded in my mind for a long time.
So now I'm in LA in some crappy shuttle van on the way to the Travelodge, already thinking about surfing Witch's Rock and Nicaragua. Before I know it I'll be bringing my boys along with me on these trips. soon enough.
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