Family Surf Sesh

A father and son surf session is by definition a special occasion; but yesterday afternoon was more the stuff that awesome memories are made of. We had a blast!

By the time we reached Bolinas, Garrett had gotten over the wake up call. It was, after all, 11:30 when he was so rudely awakened. I think a large Kit Kat bar washed down with Redbull must have helped. I hated to disturb his repose, but when I got Mary’s blog comment about good waves, I resolved that we had to hit it. And what better way to boost G’s morale from the rigors of job hunting?

We arrived at 2 for our afternoon sesh. Both the patch and the channel were looking enticing. G said he was up for the patch. Good call! After our first wave, the surf camp contingent all took the hint and went in. And magically the waves picked up! For 2 of the 3 hours we surfed, there was no one else there. The patch was our own private playground and we did frolic!

The sets just kept coming. The waist to chest high waves were sweetly shaped and were faster than usual. There were long faces that afforded us with room to carve and maneuver. The routine was ride , paddle back, turn and ride, with hardly time to recover one’s breath. Hey, I am not complaining here. It was a gas. Now and then we’d have a lull and exclaim how much fun this was.

Another highlight was cheering each other on whenever we got great rides, which on waves like these was often. Sharing the occasional family wave made it that much sweeter, as did seeing that smile on G’s face and realizing that I was smiling myself.

A few others showed up by the third hour and we were actually glad to share some waves, looking for an excuse to slacken the pace. Our limbs turned to rubber by the end and we could hardly extract ourselves from the surf. The walk back to the car was a challenge, but our sense of tiredness was a full and satiated feeling. GOOD TIMES!!

MaxWax

The surf yesterday was messy and actually so was my board. I finally really questioned why I’d allowed 6 months of wax to become layered atop my surfboard. My McTavish Original is a state of the art epoxy tuff lite board. Underneath all that wax, it looked more like a vintage relic of the 60s that had been lying dormant in someone’s garage for decades.

First Alec showed up with his own McTavish, all newly stripped and freshly waxed. Later I watched Claude remove his Santa Cruz from its bag to reveal what looked to be a showroom sheen. That’s when I resolved that my own board was screaming for a makeover!

When I got home I laid my board in the backyard under the hot afternoon sun. A tedious task was made simple, as all the wax quickly melted to a molten mess, which I readily removed. The wax ball was nearly as big as a volleyball!

I pondered why I had allowed so much wax to accumulate and coagulate. I mean I get harassed about how spiffy I keep my bikes…not just dialed in but hyper-dialed. So why all that wax and sand patina on my board?

When I surfed in Costa Rica, the equatorial sun quickly melted my board’s wax away; so I just kept a bar at the ready in my board shorts. Traction with a minimal layer of wax was never an issue. Perhaps I’d adopted a more survivalist strategy in the chill waters of Northern CA, thinking that I’d have a better chance of making it back to shore if I maxed my wax.

Well, whatever. The transformation revealed a board that, aside from a few dings, appears brand new. I’m born again, squeaky clean and 2 pounds lighter.

Take Your Pick

There he is again….. the recycling bandit probing through my can as I emerge from my door to get the morning paper. It’s trash day and the cans are out at the curb. Are they now public domain? It still creeps me out.

“Is it all right if I pick?” he asks. “I don’t love it, but do what you gotta’ do.” I reply.

He continues with his white gloves and some sort of extension pole to methodically extract his bounty. What is more enigmatic is his late model Toyata sedan, a car that looks like that of an urban professional.

I wonder if I should rethink what goes into the can. I do shred important documents; but maybe some of my correspondence needs to be trashed rather than recycled. Did he just snag the financial section? He’s probably going to review his portfolio.

Appointment With Disappointment

I'd like to shake your hand,
Disappointment.
Looks like you win again,
But this time might be the last. –Neil Young

One second you are inside this bubble, and the next second you are outside the bubble. It’s disorienting. It’s surreal. –Levi Leipheimer

Space Madness

Leave your preconceptions on the launch pad and blast into space for Moon. This is the new release from director Duncan Jones, who happens to be David Bowie’s son. So this is like Ground Control To Major Tom stuff right? Well it is a Space Oddity; but that’s really where any comparison to famous father slips quickly by.

Not only does the film work with great visuals of moonscapes; but there’s also a taut soundtrack by Clint Mansell, who did the intensely haunting music of Requiem For A Dream.

And this is a future projection that stands apart from the usual sci fi offerings. Done on a low budget, it may lack the fireworks of the genre. Intead it is gritty and realistic, yet quite convincing with its space scenes and technology.

In Moon there is largely only one actor on screen…actually two…but they’re both Sam Rockwell. His character, Sam Bell is winding down a 3 year stint with a mining operation on the moon, when his solitary existence is confronted with a visitor….who happens to be himself. Huh?! Is the visitor an alien, a robot, a clone, or has Sam gone insane?

And if all this doesn’t sound spacey enough; there’s Kevin….Spacey that is. Or at least his voice as a Halesque robot reminiscent of 2001 Space Odyssey. But is he sinister or as benevolent as his smiley face implies?

So catch a little space madness to commemorate Apollo 11, fourty years later. “When you’re 250,000 miles from home, the hardest thing to face is yourself.”