Figgy pudding

Photo: M. mekenas

not surfing today.
driving.
not letting frigid wet fingers sock the air out of my suit.
twisting my thumbs in limbo, talking, but mostly just sitting.
not looking back at the beach, basking in the emptiness of it all.
eating figgy pudding......whatever the hell that is.

damn thing looks like fun.

better late than never

Loner surf.
nice as always.
peaky and waist high.
a good call on the 9-6 today.

an hour and a half late for dinner with dad.
crap............
but, he understands.
and smiles a bit when i tell him how nice it was in the water.

5 months ago

Photo: Mark Mekenas.

Might as well have been early august.
sunny morning giving that water the elusive azure tint only found on the finest days.
wind almost non-existent.
handfull of moderate surfers in the water.

plus a guy i call bob.

ive never spoken to bob, though we always exchange pleasantries in the water.
a nod is suffice most occasions.
rarely, a verbal grunt escapes one of us
he surfs his fire wire very well.

were usually in the water at the same times.
and i find it a bit surreal that we have never spoken.
there seems to be some sort of simple understanding that we have nothing to say.
we, i guess, are simply here to ride.
to enjoy the less crowded days.

and for some reason i respect bob.
for not talking to me.
and knowing i dont want to talk either.

Literal Leash

Photo: Mark Mekenas
http://www.cannonbeachsurf.com/index.php


one part marine rope.
one part black dog leash.
series of concentric knotted loops around the ankle to prevent cinching.

life of this product: about three good wipeouts and one flying bailout.

yes....i forgot my leash.
just glad i can think outside the box.

other than that.
another day in Oregon of windless, sunny, shoulder high surf.

The Spoils of Winter

http://www.martinclarke-art.com/

the parking lot empty.
save the hiker
and the pickup of the other guy.

walk and talk.
mindless chatter about Hawaii, cold water and the like.
but otherwise taciturn and solemn.
stepping in admiration of how a tree can gather such an enormous amount of moss.

first view of the water revealed an empty sight.
save shifty windless waves.

no classes.
no "sorry i got in the way "bro""
no howling dogs.
no leathery middle aged women languid in the sand.

the day left us temperate.
and content.
sated on empty lefts and rights

one plus one (well, kinda like half)

new surfing buddy.
straight from Idaho.

oh i have grand plans for this little one.

Red Hot Poker

Vincenzo Ganadu - artist
www.ganaducreations.it

surf art strikes me.
like surf writing, surf lore and history, or simple stories of faded, but not unfathomable rides.
it keeps stoke alive.
when Oregon keeps me at home.
waiting for a gap in the 30 foot swell.

a beautiful peace of art.
a remnant of days to come.

Waiting

This stomping, peaky, windwipped madness should be over soon.
were on the downward slope.
soon, oh soon, we will return to the throwes of sunny fall evening sessions.
trading places with the sun in the water
stepping out as it settles in
and packing up alone on the beach
and reveling in the wonder of how surfing is like catnip
or a new soul
everytime.

got the day off work

head high at high tide.
sunny like evening all day.
fast fun waves,

sometimes i see the guys on the beach
walking
talking
looking cool

and wonder if they dream about surfing.

start of the longer end

the quiver is getting longer.
incrementally.
longer.