Wednesday, April 29, 2009

On the surface...

Today I keep the south end of the rock just visible around the basket as I prone paddle toward it. The waves are crossed up and refraction from the cape adds to a bouncing journey, once past the sand point it will get smoother as I stroke over deeper water. The west wind skips around to the south and then back to the west, out at the handle it will race around from any and all directions, gusting when it wants even though there is no call for it. Whitecaps and waves wrap and meet then dissipate into deeper waters past the kelp bulbs being played marionette style by forces unseen.

It feels like being where the paper tears apart, between the deep and the birds above swirling, calling. The rock is full of birds and they land and change places in a protesting cacophony, if for a moment they fell silent it would be time to pay attention.

Yesterday a gray whale swam through the kelp forests, tailing and spouting within the afternoon shadows. I want to see him today, but I don't want him to see me. It's a long way back. Houses along the sand are small, a windshield winks sun as it passes behind buildings on it's way up the hill. Sounds out here come from the birds or waves washing the rock or lapping against the board. I concentrate on baiting the hooks, the world is small and right here, when I look up it's big again and I am small and alone on the surface.

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