Who woulda thunk it?

Anomaly today offshore winds from the leftside while the rest of the coast got sideshores from the right..........go figure?! Headhigh and head and a half.

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There is some question of what to call the peak, our newest addition....... I wonder if the whales have swum by it and given it a name?

Mystos

Cloudbreak

Timbuktu

Mr. Shaggy

Bow hunting bears? I'd rather spend the afternoon dodging triple overhead sneaker sets. Solo hunting in the high country before the spring thaw, no thanks!? Takes huevos. The guy sitting next to you in the lineup may do things in his spare time that will blow you away.

This giant ruled the terrain for miles around, he has had few rivals in recent years. A clean shot from 15 yards away kills him quickly, but not before he spins around looking for the source of his pain. Ready to rip apart that source. Dominant primal anger ready to close the space between you and him.

Uuuuuh no thanks.

To get out and stalk these beasts with a bow and arrow, miles from other humans and then come back feeling humbled by the experience of taking the biggest one in the entire area? There isn't a much purer form of hunting.

Sheeple

"Surfers make sheep look like independent thinkers" Quote from Patrick King surfer and author.

I pulled the major Jedi mind fuck today. An off the cuff moment that wasn't planned......I have tried it before and it's never worked as well. This was the one for the books though.

To set the scene....I changed into my wettie next to the truck and as I pulled the board out of the bag Troy sauntered over from the other lot. We shot the shit for a few seconds as we looked over the beach. I told him where I planned to go. A peak far to the south beckoned, only one person on it and she had just paddled out.

As we spoke I saw a carload of surfers checking it out and also me as I was suited up, so instead of heading out in the direction of the peak I wanted,I drew a clear beeline for the cove to the north. Troy went over to his car and I kept north and disappeared under the dune still holding the line. Sell it! Sell it!

When I dropped out of sight I turned south still hanging under the protection of the dune and walked as far as I could before re-emerging on my way to the peak. I was probably 100 yards from where I had dropped into the beach. Fully thinking that at some point they would see me and start the lemming like rush for the same spot we are all subjected to. But not a one was in pursuit, damn it worked!

Sylas came out a few minutes later but he was the alone. Later Hannah his girlfriend paddled over and complained about the shortboarders who were all aggroed on the teeny cove waves that I had faked toward. A knot of 10 people were now all over it. Shoulda been strictly longboards only.

I started laughing and explained what I had done, Sylas giggled that he had seen the same 4 guys all headed to the cove while he was headed the other way.

3 Crosses

The bar across the entrance here is a treacherous bitch, they stopped dredging her a few years back, something about this harbor not being of a high enough usage. The fishing industry suffers due to many influences, some of her own making, some not. Crews come inexperienced, hung over and high or old, tired and burned out. This ocean is unforgiving of either. The stump of wood in the center is all that's left of last year's memorial to tragedy, the other two might have been erected in response to the burning of the original cross I have no idea.

Right now we are in the middle of springer season and I watched a few boaters play footsie with the bombie at the head of the south jetty, it's a dangerous game in a building swell. A kid came over to talk surf he had already gone out that morning to help with a capsizing, luckily this time nobody was lost. He left to surf elsewhere and I couldn't help think of the low adrenaline rush surfing must be in comparison to the regularity of sea rescues he encounters.

Arrow

I touch this rock every time I paddled out, no matter what. There isn't a true rip through the gap, sometimes the force of incoming waves washes you backwards, it can be a little squirrelly but I reach out and touch the rock no matter. On a high tide wash it's not hard to imagine being swept onto the top of the long flat slab.It reminds me of an aircraft carrier in that is immense and stands out from all the others for that reason. A forced landing is not entirely out of the question. I play here at the base of a sand dune that moves massive quantities of sand every year, paddling out to surf where for thousands of years, thousands of others had eked out an existence from the sea's bounty. Trees precariously cling to the very top fighting for life, quite isolated from all other flora, somehow making a life in the sand.
Sometimes the roots of those trees kick out a reminder from the past inhabitants here, those who shared this view. And before it's covered up by a footstep a lucky find is made. Whales and waves both meet at this cove and there is a symmetry in the arrowhead and the surfboard for me. One set of eyes scanning for seals and a home for the arrow, new eyes scanning the rocks and horizon for a telltale bump of the arriving sets and a slot for a sleek glass board.

Minus2.1

Dali-esque is gravity's pull on critters who feel more comfortable with a little more support, like water. Lowest tides of the year expose some of the beauties usually left to dance alone, playing with their blue eyed centers sends them in retreat.......
Some of the younger ones drool at the sight of their sexy neighbors.........such poor form gets you thrown out of the pool apparently.

I got the blog-fog

Just don't have anything that I want to say or for some reason can say properly............I got the blog fog man! Thank god I've been surfing.........