Sometime later...

Christmas eve session. Solid 6'+ a handful out splitting a 200 yard wave. Christmas day repeat.

Bonzer-ific!

Memories, I always remember the water as brown. Thanks to Kodak for the blue adjustment.

40 miles and 3 hours off Mex1 the road conditions kept the SoCal crowd at bay. A fun couple of weeks of surf and sail here, where life revolved around the water. Fresh fish and crab from locals, your Baja essential experience.

I miss the dust that got everywhere.

A lot like this.

Grey and out of control, misty rain falling. An evening last minute decision to go that makes one wonder........ "Why did I pull the trigger?"

Spring break fun.

I could do a weekly if not daily blog on stuck vehicles in the sand....

It's a never ending parade......

Dairy rights

(the brief and inconsequential lead in)

After the on-shores came up and the crowds would get in their cars and drive home. The tide pushing or pulling enough water between jetty and sandbar, over the long-forgotten broken, rusty stems of another era.

Reformed white water waves hit the bank and threw over themselves, square little pegs that gurgled and spat ugly. But before they met the rip along the pier that closed the loop you could hold a line as true as any Surfer cover star had shown you how it was done. Right before the inside rail of your board met the roof of the wave and you went ass over tea kettle, hoping not to meet the sand or rock or god forbid the rusty remnant of the city's past experiment in safe bathing enclosures.

As the wind blew harder and the little jetty battled to give you any cover from the surf destroying wind, brief nuggets of free-fall made it worthwhile to try and dodge blue bottles and closeouts. Until the tide took the wave out to the edge of the jetty where it now became one wall of water after another and it was your turn to leave and pack the car.....

Toasted bacon and egg

(Dairy Beach)
I always thought it was a stealth mission. The wind up alarm would wake me just before dawn. I would quietly creep past my sleeping Dad and head out onto the balcony. There I'd raise my finger moistened in my mouth to see if the wind was offshore, if it was I quietly got my towel and wax along with the apartment key and a couple bucks. Then I'd get my board and walk to the front door. If I got this far without a sound from the old man I was normally good to go, if I heard him move it was all over.

"Make me a cup of tea boy and I'll take you down to the beach." That would bring me back into the apartment, there was no way out! I'd save no time in fact I'd probably get there at about the same time with his ride, but it always made me antsy to have to wait while the tea brewed. He could tell but it didn't change a thing, he was taking me come hell or high water, and I was making tea in exchange. At least this way I could make a complete check from Country to Addington if need be.

(Doug Knox: Bay of Plenty)

We would get down to North Beach usually and he would drop me off as the sun was just coming up, a huge ball of orange rising out of the glass Indian Ocean. "See you in a few hours, want a sandwich?" As I closed the back door of the Valiant, board in hand I'd ask for a bacon and fried egg toasted please, "You want the bloody moon!" the old man would reply as he drove off.

Years later he would get a big kick out of telling my friends how I would stumble past him in the dark eyes still closed, I'd wet the tip of my finger. If the winds were onshore I'd quietly turn around and go back to bed, but if the west was blowing that my eyes would shoot open......... the old bugger had been watching me the entire time!

Small kelpy goodness

Small, cold and solo. Weather blew in early. Goodness over.

End of day.

Back from the lung butter flu, surfing cold, crystal clear water.
Spring tides starting to break up winter's sandbars.
Ankle twister holes.
Need a solid west swell to see what's been done.