Wet green moss, heavy fog and a long drive over the mountain on slippery roads. Cold gusty onshores made the beach a victory at sea. Instead we found this gem and had good conversation by the fire. Sometimes not surfing is ok.

Yeah, it was this pretty.

Like the devoted surfer she is, K managed to get the day off on Friday to head down to Santa Cruz for a session. We pulled up at the Hook and conditions looked pretty close to perfect. The first thing I realized upon paddling out was that we chose the worst place to do so. My barefeet got a little worked on the rocks and my pride got a little test in knowing how obvious our out of town status probably was. The Hook is renowned for localism. Supposedly fights have gone down, threats made, lawsuits filed. People have no qualms about snaking visitors, and straight up vibing you out of the water there.That said I thought it was pretty mellow this time.
The second thing I realized was that it was bigger than it looked from the cliff. Oh well, I told myself, it's good for me to get a challenge every now and then. And it was. It was also beautiful and exilerating. A great session. Not a ton of waves caught, but enough to remind me that right hand point breaks are my favorite and that the only thing holding me back is the icky fear I talk myself into. Either way, I'll dare to suggest that I'm on my way to saying that head high right hand point breaks are my favorite. Like my last session, once the tide got higher, exhaustion and an ever increasing wave height sent us in search of lunch and a traffic free drive home.
Thanks swell goddess, for delivering three times in one week.

Worth waiting for the rain.

Woohoo. What a great session. I sat at home for a couple of hours today trying to decide whether to get out. Yesterday I drove to the coast, wasting and hour and a half round trip to discover that the waves were slop and it was cold and windy--conditions not worth my time--especially when it meant staying dry and returning in non rush hour conditions. So, I was a bit weary today. I didn't want to waste my presious gas money and minutes jutting off to the coast to discover more of the same.
I'm glad I went.
I chatted with K who got out early style and she said, "it'll clean up when the tide fills in." I stared at the cam trying to decipher if there were makeable shoulders. I talked to my photographer friend and he said, "maybe rather than come in to the office, you should go surfing, since it's gonna rain tomorrow and everything." All I needed was affirmation from a fellow professional. Working on photos indoors when it's raining outside is much more desirable than than missing a good surf day. Worth waiting for the rain.
Waves were BIG, I mean bigger than I am comfortable with usually, but the winds were blowing so perfectly offshore that everything was lining up for clean long lefts in front of Boat Docks, with 5 people out. I just kept going for it and sticking them. Head high sets, I was pretty proud of myself, normally I chicken out. It kept getting bigger and bigger though, and after I'd been out for like three hours I was exhausted and cold and throwing myself around like a sack of potatoes. I started questioning whether I'd be able to get in with my exhaustion and the building swell. Every 15 minutes or so an outside set would come through that was a foot or two overhead and it would slam the lineup, clear everyone out. When the surf gets good like that, it just fills me with an adrenaline high uncomparable to anything else.
Thank you swell goddess. Will you deliver again tomorrow?

It's been a while since I've posted, and though I haven't gotten a lot of decent surf in, I've had a busy and productive week, which did end a glorious session with K yesterday. I spent the first part of the week in Napa on a Williams Sonoma job. It's beautiful up there and every time I turn around I am reminded of how much I wish I could live in a small town with large open spaces. I'm sure I'll long for that for a while.
I managed to get an appointment at UCSF with a renowned neuro surgeon. I've been discussing my situation with everyone and it seems that I'll most likely have a bit of physical therapy to look forward to. It's amazing how surfing can really help. Sure my shoulders get sore, but my lower back is pain free after a session.I got out for a quick session on Friday. I headed for LM to try my chances at around noon, but the onshore winds had ripped that swell to shreds so I ened up at the jetty. It was a pleasant surprise but still like the jetty at it's best. The waves were a bit confused and breaking over shallow water, but the wind was light and the ocean was glassy and there were only five people out. It was refreshing for sure.
Yesterday was the treat. K and I surfed Bolinas. It was heavenly. Warm, barefoot and on Stewie--I caught a lot of waves, and K got her taste too. Best session I'd say we've had together in a while. Such a pleasant reminder of approaching spring. The winter has been so mild so far, I'd say I'm feeling a bit spoiled in hoping that the hot long days are soon to be. I'm sure the swell coming in this week will change that. Which reminds me. I'm ready for Mavericks. The boat trip...is gonna be awesome.

My results from my MRI came in. Not good. Not bad yet either. I've been referred to a neurosurgeon, as apparently my back appears to have undergone a bit of trauma, and whatever happened, it's the cause of my pain. I have protruding discs on my lower lumbar spine. It sucks but it is a relief to know that something is going on and not just something stress related or caused by my insistence in sleeping on my stomach in the disco position. My back pain has been lifelong, but this back pain has only been around for a few months. I suppose we could suggest it was from my accident.
I've considered blogging about my accident for a while, but to be honest I have never told my story on paper, and beginning it is a bit frightening. A couple of years ago my sister made a go at, although her story was meant to be fiction and encompassed the personality of someone else. I’lla dmit, it was hard, to hear my experience through someone else’s voice. It was also like having someone else tell your nightmare, because that is what my accident is like for me today, 3+ years later. It’s a bad dream that makes a good story.

On August 31 2003 I left Radio bar and tried to circle back through downtown Oakland to hop on the freeway, which drops me right at my house. I’d only had one drink, Tilden was bartending and I ordered a gin and tonic. Eli and Louisa and James and bunch of other folks were at the bar that night. Kids I didn’t really hang out with that much, but I remember I was relieved that they were there, as I’d showed up alone. I was bummed about this jerk I had been dating back then, bummed he’d pulled his disappearing act again, and the comfort of strangers seemed better than being alone that night.
Nonetheless I only stayed for one drink. I left around one, and like I said, made an unsuccessful attempt to get back on the freeway. Maybe I circled around a bit. I often drive when I need to think and maybe that’s what I did that night. It’s the last I remember really. Somewhere around Radio bar is Webster St. Webster St. turns into the Webster tube, which puts you onto Alameda, an island right next to Oakland. Alameda is full of old military supply consoles and a military base that is no longer in use. Somehow I ended up there,
I remember listening to Led Zeppelin, smoking a couple of Camels on the way home. Then I remember waking up to the car filling up with water. Pouring in from the sides. It was shockingly cold. I didn’t have time to think, but I must have been thinking because I knew I had to get the fuck out of the car. I unbuckled my seatbelt and pressed the automatic window and nothing happened. I tried the door and nothing happened. I’d been smoking, so the window was down halfway. I remember jerking at it, tugging, then managing to squeeze myself through it. Eventually the glass slid into the doorframe a ways and I was able to push through…into the water on the other side. I was swimming then. The water was black and I recall scenes from the movie Titanic racing through my head. For some reason I had to swim away from the car, for fear of it sucking me down with it as it sank. Just like in the movie. So I did. I don’t think I even watched it disappear into the depth below, I was too busy trying to get as far away from it as I could. I looked up and realized I had no idea where I was, how I got there. The George Lucas-like shipping blocks loomed above me. It was dark everywhere accept the lights from the city across the water. They were too far to swim to.
What happened after this is hard to describe in detail, and often the part I leave out when I tell this story. It’s easy to summarize: where I went in was difficult to get out. In every direction I could see was either a 20foot pier or a 10foot concrete wall. Because I couldn’t find an exit out of the water I treaded water until 5am and screamed for my life until my voice was so hoarse I could barely talk. Eventually, a tugboat heard me on the other side of the bay and shined its lights across the water. Those lights were like a sign from heaven. I was rescued and picked up by the coast guard, and taken to the hospital.
The long version of that summary is something I don’t think I can write about, at least not now, not yet. I treaded water; I almost froze to death and drowned after falling asleep in the water. As you can imagine those few hours were the most important few hours of personal time spent in my life. Each time I let the thread unravel I trust another part of myself to say a little more. But this is new territory for me so I’ll have to end here. I am proud that I survived that night. I am proud that after that trauma the water is still one of my closest friends. Sometimes when I’m far out from shore and the wind starts howling and I get a cold shiver it reminds me. The couple times I’ve been surfing and felt my body start to shut down because of the cold it reminded me. I got out those days. Being a wuss about the cold is not something I’m shy about.

weekend warrior.

MSF session #3. Nice to get out. Soggy brain at 6am. Earning the strength to ride this thing. Read 4-6 feet but really 2-4. So smooth. Wrong choice but appreciated the challenge. High tide can be brutal on the arms. Missed the others and paid the price for being lazy. Two flights of stairs is tough on a quiver. Sunday managing on 8 hours of sleep all weekend-my body dragged. Clumsy, mellow and fun nonetheless. Gimmee some more.