Surf Diva – March 31, 2011

Today was my first surf session in the Pacific!  I booked a one-on-one lesson through Surf Diva (http://www.surfdiva.com/), a San Diegan surf school that’s owned by two sisters.  Their shop is right in the heart of La Jolla, so after we got our boards and wetsuits, we walked a few blocks down to the beach.

This is where we met our surf instructor Zak (without a “C”…Ben Folds Five, anyone?  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgXwA3c8YWc).  This dude was awesome.  What he lacked in height, he more than made up with in his enthusiasm.  He had a bright red Surf Diva ball cap (that was more the shape of a trucker hat than anything you’d wear on the ball field), and at the bottom of the legs of his wetsuit, there were slits that he cut; yes, like what we used to do with jeans about 15 years ago so they'd more easily fall around our boyish Doc Martens.

Winning.

He was smart about protecting his skin - he wore the same sun block stick we use for our nose and ears (Headhunters), but his was tinted.  The thing is, Headhunters is so thick that it doesn’t get fully absorbed by the skin.  Since his was tinted, it looked like he was wearing makeup.  I guess that's better than the alternative - working on the water all day, every day, would lead to skin that resembled John Candy's in Summer Rental.

After a quick water safety intro, we headed out.  The difference in power between the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific was amazing.  With every wave that rolled in, it was a struggle to hold my footing, let alone make progress to walk out.  At one point I began to wonder if I would be able to make it to the outside.  How embarrassing would that be, “Ugh, so does a tow out come with the lesson?”

Luckily, it wasn’t soon after this bout of self-doubt that I made it out – hallelu-yer.  When the next wave that looked to be about the right size approached, I took it.  As with most things in my life, the beginner’s luck didn’t fail to come through. 

I turned my board into the shore, began to paddle, popped up and rode a nice hip-high wave back toward the beach.  It was thrilling, catching my first wave in the Pacific.  Unlike the sand-dune lined coastline back home, La Jolla Shores is a bowl-shaped cove flanked by 100-foot cliffs on either side.  In between the two dramatic cliffs was the beach, which gradually slopped up the hillside, revealing the stunning homes tucked in the mountain.  It was an incredible sight.

Photo Credit: suite101.com

However, like all my other beginner’s luck gems, it faded with this too.  After I got back to the outside, I tried wave after wave but I kept missing them.  I never thought I’d have an issue with the waves rolling up under me out in the Pacific, but this was obviously an issue with my form, not with the amount of power in the waves.

Who doesn't remember these!?

Dear Zak kept showing me how to really dig with my paddle and, I must say, that petite man had one hell of a paddle.  He dug so fast that his whole body got into it and he looked like a wiggle worm!  I’ve never seen anything like it.  But man, when he decided to take off for a wave, the guy took off. 

I tried and tried for the remainder of the lesson to catch another wave, but sadly, my first wave ended up being my last.  Maybe it was because of the crazy heavy foam-top rental board that I wasn’t used to, or maybe it was because I didn’t wiggle.  Either way, I paddled back to the beach with a wave riding thirst that needed to be quenched…

California Dreaming – March 29, 2011

So…we’re moving here, seriously.  This has been the best 24 hours EVER.

After the Geff Experience, we checked into our gorgeous hotel overlooking Mission Bay (and Mission Beach beyond that).   From our balcony, we saw several crew boats rowing underneath a bridge below and we later learned that there is a competition going on in the bay this week. 

View from the Mission Bay Hyatt

One of the must-see places on our list was The Wave House (http://www.wavehouse.com/) in Mission Beach. It’s a wave park with two different pools that create standing waves which can be altered to suit either surfers or body boarders.  When we first walked in, a group of body boarders were in the main pool and MGMT’s “Kids” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBd46BbdTfs) was playing on the sound system.

So. Cool.

We ordered a couple of Mexican beers and watched a girl boogey-boarding for a while. She made it look so easy!   

Then we moved on to the small wave pool where the learners start out.  A group of Canadian kids were trying to surf and we quickly realized this is where the real entertainment is.  While most high school guys execute any new activity with reckless abandon, one guy in particular went at it with seemingly no fear, regardless of how beat up he got.  This was amusing enough to film so I feel it should be shared.

Mission Beach at Sunset

After we shared some laughs at the poor kid’s expense, we walked down to the water to join the locals watching the sun dip below the horizon.  I had no idea how celebrated of an event this is for Californians.  Ted explained that it’s common for people to meander to the water’s edge each evening to watch the sunset – it’s their neighborhood gathering place.    

We watched as a couple of shortboarders caught their final waves before heading in to greet their families.  Their wives had wheeled their baby strollers out into the sand for their older children to play as their fathers surfed.  It was such a precious sight seeing how they adapted their new family life to coastal living.

For dinner, we found a fabulous Mexican restaurant (http://www.elfandangorestaurant.com/) in Old Town – the settling place for the first Europeans who came to California.  Now a neighborhood made up of authentic Mexican restaurants, boutiques, and museums, Old Town is considered to be the birthplace of California. 

El Fandango's Patio

We sat on the patio under a canopy of blooming bougainvillea; I hadn’t seen that vine so prolific in an area since I left Sicily.  Our server brought us homemade tortilla chips with fresh salsa and guacamole before we even ordered.  The guacamole, in particular, was phenomenal!  We could have made it into a meal…I guess we technically did; we were full before our meals even arrived.

So the next morning, I made up for it.  While Ted was in his conference, I set out for a jog around Mission Bay.  I love running in new places because it always leads to exploring areas I never would have otherwise.  It’s like a privileged vantage point into a place that the tourists never get.

I found a bike path that ran alongside the bay and past sweet bungalow-styled homes.  It was so interesting to see the creative ways the residents turn their backyards into great outdoor living spaces.  The artistic outdoor furniture, the pergolas entwined with wisteria, the little gardens (both flower and vegetable) – it was the epitome of delightful.

The path eventually reached the Pacific, where it curved north and began to parallel the ocean.  As I rounded the bend, I saw a few surfers out in the lineup, so I sat on a park bench to watch them for a while.   

Just then, an old van pulled up and several surfers in bare feet and unzipped wetsuits got out.  They circled coats of new wax on their boards and then walked down to the water’s edge. 

It was so…Californian.  A group of professional-aged men were surfing in the middle of a Tuesday morning instead of cranking out spreadsheets in a cubicle somewhere.  This is one of the images I’ve had in my mind when I think of California.  God bless it for not letting me down.

San Diego, Baby! – March 28, 2011

I’m here!  I’m here!  I’m here!  I’ve wanted to see San Diego for years now, and I’m finally here!  I’ve accompanied Ted out here for a week-long conference and we arrived yesterday.  Ten years ago I visited much of the California coast but I didn’t go this far south.  This is unfortunate because I’ve been told by many that it’s my kind of place.  The whole organic/locally grown movement, the wide variety of outdoor rec opportunities – I would totally fit in here.



Hodad's - best burgers in OB!

Truth be told, it’s the idea of surfing here that has most allured me.  This is where Ted learned and he’s been tempting me with stories of morning surf sessions in the Pacific, followed by breakfast burritos out of a food truck.

Within our first hour in the state, we made our way down to Ocean Beach to watch the surfers by the pier, then stopped into South Beach Bar and Grill (http://southbeachob.com).  We ordered our tacos with wahoo and baja fish, which is much different than the mahi or snapper fish tacos we’re used to in Florida. 



Fish tacos and a couple of pints of Pacifico?  Yes please! 

We sat at the window looking down Newport Avenue and as we were immensely enjoying our snack, we got to experience my favorite moment of the trip so far.

A man in what looked to be his late 60s came walking by in a shorty wetsuit that had more miles on it than Ted’s '82 Saab 900 (that had a real hang up with going into reverse) and he was carrying a bag with his name on it.  Geff (with a G) appeared to have stepped right out of Woodstock, N.Y., cir. 1969.  He looked a little wobbly in his step, if you get my drift, but maybe he was hitting the wall after a long surf session...or something.

I think these flips were at Woodstock...

About 20 minutes later, Geff-with-a-G came walking back from what was evidently the public showers.  Ted bet me that he was walking back to the 30-year-old VW camper van that looked like it hadn't been moved in a decade.  Seriously, you should have seen how low those tires were!  

I didn’t take him up on the bet; Geff and the Vanagon were clearly destined for each other.  Sure enough, this rail of a man slid open the 50-lb. door with one great heave and climbed into his (truly) mobile home.  Before closing it behind him, a menagerie of "house" wares that he'd obviously been collecting since the Nixon administration was visible from our perch across the parking lot.

The Vanagon.

Before we could process this bizarre scene that had just unfolded, a guy on a bike with more modifications than I've ever seen, rode by.  It had kid's bike-sized tires, yet the frame was long enough to fit an adult.  The seat - a banana seat, no less - hovered further back over the rear wheel than normal, and the handle bars...oh the handle bars… they were the ape-hanger type I'm used to seeing in my unfortunate hometown when Bike Week is full blast and muffin tops squeezing out of leather chaps are on the back of every third or so Harley.  //sigh//  But I wasn't in my home town - where this type of tacky is commonplace - so I had to take a picture.

Ape hanger handle bars...WITH a banana seat.  Winning.

Wow, not even a full afternoon in the region and I'm already brimming with stories.  I LOVE this place!!

Cupid Hit the Surf Shop - February 14, 2011

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!  What better way to spend a beautiful February day than to take off from work and go surfing?!



The surfer in this pic obviously knew the value of a hood



For the love-centric holiday, Ted and I gave each other the gift of neoprene.  I gave him booties and a hood (as he already had gloves), and he gave me gloves and a hood.  I can’t begin to describe the difference it makes when your head and hands are warm – especially if you take into account my Reynods Syndrome (a fun little condition that causes my capillaries to close for business when I get cold, thereby causing my hands and feet to turn a shocking shade of white). 

While I’m an avid believer in not shying away from experiences that toughen me up, I was bordering on hypothermia in some of our sessions.  It's gotten so cold lately that we’ve only be able to be in the water for 40 minutes before crying uncle.  So keeping our extremities warm will make a marked improvement on our surfing experience.

When we first stepped into the water, Ted couldn’t believe how much warmer his feet were; when we first began to paddle, I couldn’t believe how much warmer my hands were.  When we were both completely submerged (the point that every cold-weather surfer dreads), we relished in the fact that our hoods shielded us from the jolt of cold water flooding into the back of our wetsuits.

It was a great day to be in the water – the sun was out, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the beach was relatively empty with the exception of a couple of snowbirds who stopped to watch us as they were walking by.  Ted suggested I take Olive for another spin since the waves were pretty small and it was perfect for a push session.  Since I didn’t have to worry about catching the waves on my own, I could just practice popping up on my new board. 

My first ride was great!  Because it was such a small day, I could scoot forward on my board without having to worry about pearling the nose into the wave.  So with his push and using my feet still to pop up, I could easily get up on the board.   We knew that on bigger days (read: non-push session friendly), I would have to move back down on my board, meaning I’d have to pop up using only my knees, but I could work on that at home.  We figured that by the time it was warm enough to surf without a wetsuit (when I wouldn’t be encumbered by all the neoprene), I’d be able to do a shortboard pop up.  In the meantime, this little push session was important for me to start getting the feel for riding a shorter board.  As I was enjoying the short rides into the beach on Olive, it was clear that it was definitely a more maneuverable and responsive board than Greenie.  



For the first time in three months, we were comfortable (thank you, Cupid, for the gift of warmth), so we actually found it hard to pull ourselves away from the surf.  But warmed pressed sandwiches and tomato soup from our favorite sandwich shop were to be had, and who could resist that?

Until we meet again…

Crybear Comes Out - January 17, 2011

Today was one of the prettiest days we’ve had all winter.  The skies had cleared from days of rain and the temperature had warmed up into the 60s.  I had watched the swell charts all week and a hopeful bump on Friday remained a constant promise.  So I was determined to kick off early and go surf. 

Around 2:30, I skeedattled out of the office and grabbed my board and wetsuit.  I decided to take Olive because I had been practicing my shortboard pop-up and was getting better. 

Once at the beach, I hastily unpacked the board, yanked up my wetsuit’s zipper and tugged on my booties – I couldn’t wait to get down to the surf!  Just then, I heard a car in the all-but-empty parking lot and I turned around to see Ted driving up.  I was delighted!  Even though I was allured by the adventure of surfing by myself, there was something comforting about having him there.

He just came to watch and I was so excited that he was going to see my first ride on the board he gave me for Christmas!  However, as we walked up the boardwalk, I began noticing how windy it was.  When the surf came into view, we both uttered, “wow.”  The wind had whipped up the gulf to the point that there was no clean form to the waves – just chop, whitewater, and a lot of churn. 

It reeeally wasn’t the best of surf conditions and it certainly wasn’t a good day for giving Olive another shot.  But the wetsuit was on, so I was committed.  That’s the rule.  When I have children and their ski bibs and jackets are on, there’s no chickening out at that point, they’re slapping on the skis and getting in line for the chair lift.  When that zipper’s up, it’s up.

Thank you Google Images

Ted quietly marveled at my bullheadedness as I surveyed the best place to paddle out.  Then I strapped on my leash, picked up my board, and walked with purpose into the water.

Yikes!!  It was cold.  Even with the full suit and booties, it was suck-the-air-right-out-of-your-lungs, cold. As much as I dreaded the thought of lying on my board, where the water could freely wash around me, I had no choice but to hop on and paddle out.  



The waves were coming in from all directions.  There were no defined sets of waves (usually they come in threes), they were just mashing up against each other, creating a lot of white water.  This is like St. George, only 40 degrees colder. 

When I got out to where I thought I could start catching waves, I sat up on the board.  Within seconds I spotted one that I thought would do.  So I lay down, paddled a few strokes and popped up.  Ok, not true.  I tried to pop up.  The board shot out from under me and I went tumbling into the glacial water.

It made me gasp – the water, not my poor performance – and I quickly clamored back up onto my board.  I tried to exert a little more patience and select my next wave more judiciously.  I focused on recreating the pop-up that I had so diligently practiced for weeks and thought I was getting better at.

As I waited, I began noticing the fact that my feet were going numb and my hands weren’t that far behind.  I tried to circle my legs under the board just to keep moving, and I rubbed my hands together as if over a fire.  My hair was a cold mop tangled around my neck and I was wearing out from the intense shivering.

Just then, I saw a wave pressing up from the southwest and I thought, this is it – this is going to be my first ride with Olive.  Four strong paddles, hands to the board, quick pop up and I’m up! I’m on the board!!!  Only, oh, the wave rolled up under me…and now I’m losing my balance.  Back into the water I went. 

The worst part wasn’t the cold, watery death that I decided I was going to have that afternoon, it was the fact that just before I plunged back in for oh, the third time, I saw Ted (and his Cheshire cat grin – unbelievable that I can see that from out here!) with some bystanders watching me from the beach.  Oh good, an audience.

Ok, now I’m mad.  More than mad, I’m St. George Pissed.  I get pretty frustrated when I can’t do something (it comes from being the little sister who got left behind when she couldn’t keep up with her brothers) but I reeeaallly get frustrated when others are there to witness my inability. 



Oh it’s freaking ON.  Again, and again for what seemed like an hour (though I’m pretty sure it wasn’t more than 20 minutes) I fought the waves, I fought the wind, I fought the lack of an extra six inches of my board, and they all just fought right back.  After my second-to-last failure, I let out the guttural yell that I hadn’t unleashed since the cracked rib incident back in the fall.



September 20th, 2010 - A day that will live on in infamy.

 This sucks.  My board sucks.  The waves suck.  I suck.  I’m evidently NOT meant to be a surfer.  Finally, I allowed Mother Nature to have her win and I paddled/drug my board in.  Ted was still grinning as I was walking up because even though he knew the dramatic scene that was about to unfold, it must have been soooo worth it to see the hilariously pathetic show I put on in the water. 

“Hey baby!” he greeted me. 

“Well that was a waste of an afternoon,” I replied leering through my icy hair plastered across my face.  “I’m so glad I took off early!”

The LG flip phone...love that baby.

See, I’ve been told recently that I’m allowing myself to be “consumed by my work,” and I’ve heard the word workaholic used to describe me more than once now.  But up until this job, I thought “workaholics” were executives who wear $200 shoes and sport blackberries on their hips.  But I neither am an executive, nor have $200 shoes – and my un-smart phone was $19.99 when I bought it two years ago!  I just have a, you know, work ethic, so as my work continues to grow, taking off early can be pretty tricky.  But I’m not allowing my job to consume me!

Back to the beach.

As I huffed my board – and my attitude – up the sand, I realized how exhausted I was.  Even with the seething rage that normally gives someone super hero-like energy, I was utterly spent.  So I did what any reasonable, almost-30-year-old does; I dropped my board, then my body, onto the sand, and crossed my arms over my face.

That’s when it happened, that’s when Crybear came out…in full force.  With the ridiculous tears coming out of my eyes, I dramatically uttered, “Why does everything have to be so hard?  All I wanted to do was ride one wave!”

It was so sad.  I knew it was sad…which just made it sadder – as if that were a word.  Standing over me with his rolled-up chinos, Ted didn’t really know what to say, though I’m pretty sure he was trying not to laugh.  Instead he reminded me that I almost got up “that one time” and told me how impressed he was that I was willing to get out in that water.  He thought it showed heart. 

Bless that man. 

So we talked about my placement on the board and ended up working on my form.  Before I knew it, I was smiling again, practicing pop ups on the beach.  The blood had returned to my extremities and the sky was beginning to pinken with the forthcoming sunset. 

Today was an ok day.

May As Well Still be Wearing Hiking Boots - January 2, 2011

We just got back from a trip over to Jacksonville to visit Ted’s family and there have been reports that the surf was going to be on today.  Between my new board and the booties my dad and stepmom gave me for Christmas, I was ready. 

When we got to the beach, I saw a lineup unlike any that I’ve seen before.  There were probably 30 guys in the water, many of whom were doing some seriously impressive “shredding.”  This is essentially the opposite of the longboard wave riding I mentioned in my Thanksgiving post.  Shredding refers to the cuts that shortboarders make back and forth across a wave but there has to be enough wave in order to pull this off.  Today, there was definitely that.

There’s only one thing more intimidating than walking up to a surf that’s bigger than anything you’ve seen, and that’s when there are plenty of (good) surfers to watch you get your A handed to you.   Adding to that was the fact that I hadn’t been out since Thanksgiving and it’s now a whole lot colder than it was on that 70-degree day.  The water temperature is now 58° and I don’t believe the air temp got over 52° today.  To make matters worse, there was no sun to warm up the black neoprene of my wetsuit, which was supposed to insulate me from the dark gulf waters.

As we took our first few steps into the water, I was very thankful I had booties and I wished I had something for my hands.  My first few paddles were painful, but I guess they eventually acclimated…that, or went numb.

It felt weird, paddling on a shorter board.  I wasn’t really sure how far up I should be, but I know my toes touch the very back of Greenie, so I figured I’d go for the same on Olive.  Wrong.  Because this board is six inches shorter, I should really be further back with my feet hanging off the board. 

I didn’t put this together until the end of the session; therefore, I spent most of my time out there pearling because I was too far forward on my board.  Getting worked in these waves was not fun.  Not only did each nose dive lead to a shock of cold water shooting down my back (it doesn’t take much of a gap for water to get in), but the force of these big waves sent me tumbling like a ragdoll in someone’s Maytag.

Somewhere in the middle of the session, as we were sitting in the lineup watching some ridiculously good surfing, I saw a guy who I recognized…sort of.  It’s hard to place people when they’re in wetsuits, their hair’s wet, and their lips are blue, not the mention the fact that my eyes were bleary from the cold – at what temperature do ones eyes begin to freeze?  But right before he caught a wave that he launched off the back of doing a 360, I realized it was Warren Smith.  I went to high school with him, after which he went on to surf professionally and has enjoyed several appearances in surf magazines.  Not kidding. 

Yep, that's him, on the cover of Surfer magazine...doing an aerial, no less.

Last I heard he was in South America, or South Africa…or was it the South Pacific?  I’m not sure – but I’m pretty sure he’s been all over the world to surf and probably the one time I’ll ever see him in the lineup, I looked like it was my first time on a surfboard.  When he paddled back out, he went to a different spot so I didn’t have the chance to say something cool like, “Hi, do you remember me from high school?  I had frizzy hair back then and would occasionally wear hiking boots to class.” 

After about 45 minutes in the water, Ted and I were both so cold that we could hardly move.  So we paddled in, wearing the word defeated across our backs.  I’ve never experienced this before, paddling in without at least one wave.  Even if I could only catch a sad excuse for one, I’d at least get one.  But I was crazy weak.  As we were walking up the beach, Ted actually had to help me step up on the sand cliff that I usually have no problem with.  I just didn’t have any gas left in the tank.  

When we got back to the car, my hands, now purple, were shaking so badly that he had to put up my board for me.  They continued to shake involuntarily the entire 15-minute drive home (even with the heat on).  Once we got back, I struggled for about 10 minutes to take off my booties.  In fairness, it was hard for me to get them off when I first tried them on during the Christmas morning gift exchange; so getting them off with shaking hands and zero strength was a real trick.  

At one point, I considered just getting in the tub (filled with hot water), then after I had warmed up, I’d try and tackle them again.  But the more I thought about it, the more I knew I wouldn’t live that down (the fact that I kept them on for the ride home was bad enough).  So pride enabled me to muster up one last fit of strength to get them off.

I don’t think I’m going to wear anything but wool for the next few months days.   You know I can’t stay away from the waves for that long.

Christmas Came Early! - December 23, 2010

Oh boy, oh boy!  What a MAGICAL time of year!!!  My first Christmas as a surfer has been full of all sorts of sugarplum fairies (only these fairies were wearing board shorts) and it began on the 23rd when I arrived at Ted’s for our Christmas dinner. 

I had just come from getting my fourth-ever pedicure – seriously, why pay for those when you can do them yourself (without the risk of a weird bacterial infection from the foot tubs) – and was met with the aroma of lamb and butternut squash roasting in the oven.  Ted’s got a serious aptitude for the culinary side of life, I’m learning. 

When I walked by the wall where he mounts his snowboard, I immediately noticed something different all together: a surfboard with decorations shaped like giant Christmas lights hanging from it! 

It’s a gorgeous 7’ Kane Garden board.  Even though it’s only half a foot shorter than Greenie, that makes a big difference on a surfboard.  It’s yellow on top and olive on the bottom with a fin system that allows for a thruster or quad setup (meaning three fins or four).  I’ve been thinking about going down to a shorter board that’s more maneuverable, and this is perfect because it will certainly be easier to turn, yet it will still be super stable because of its fish shape, which are wider in the middle than at the nose and tail.

A 7' Fish should be a perfect next board

I could barely sit still through dinner because I was so excited about my new board.  I wanted to take it out RIGHT THEN!!  Once we finished our roasted lamb with mint jelly, we moved to the living room to open gifts.  Now, since I already had my big gift for the year, I figured it would be all socks and book marks from there on out.  Not so.  One of the packages he wrapped was suspiciously large.  Not that size is an indicator – my brother is famous for disguising small things in big boxes (gift card in an old VCR box, anyone?) – but this time the size of the package wasn’t a decoy…

It was an Indo Board!!  Ted’s been telling me about these for six months now and I’ve been dying to try my hand at one.  Indo Boards are trainers for board sports because they help with balance and board control.  They are roughly the length of a skateboard, but much wider, and you lay them over a cylinder like a see-saw before standing on it. This is where the balance practice comes in.

To get on it, you first step on the side of the board that’s on the floor, then rest the other foot on the side that’s sticking up in the air.  Then you slowly transfer your weight to the second foot while pushing that side of the board down until it’s parallel to the ground.  In order for this to happen, the cylinder must roll slightly so that it’s centered under the board and your weight is distributed evenly...like so:

Well done Tedward

The key is slowly transfer your weight, but that’s the tricky part.  When I first got on it, the board kept flying from one side of the cylinder to the other until I was completely out of control.  The board looked like a pendulum arching back and forth.  It was scary, sure, but so much fun!  Of course when I got overly confident, I flew off and hit the floor with quite a thud.  Luckily, I landed on carpet, so there were no pre-Christmas trips to the ER.

Right before I flew off the board...

I don’t know what I’m more excited about…the surfboard or the Indo Board.  This is up there with the Christmas morning when my brothers and I walked downstairs to find a Go Cart beside the tree.  Really.

A Day to Give Thanks - November 25, 2010

What a day to give thanks!  It’s unseasonably warm for late November and the sky was the deepest, clearest blue today that you could ask for.  The water temp is now somewhere in the mid-70s, so it was perfect for our new wetsuits. 

Ted’s youngest daughter came in town for the holiday but our family dinner at my dad and stepmom’s house didn’t start until 3:00.  That gave us plenty of time for a morning session before we needed to get in the kitchen to prepare our dishes.  So we loaded up our boards and drove down to the state park. 

We were not by any means the only people with this idea – all the local surfers and stand-up paddle boarders were out in the water, and everyone had the same goofy grin.  The three of us quickly realized why when we looked at the waves.  They were slow lefts, meaning they closed out slowly from right to left rather than breaking all at once soon after they built tall enough to ride.  These are the conditions that make for the long rides that surfers absolutely covet.  More importantly for my skill level, the waves weren’t too big but yet they were powerful, so they were super easy to get up on. 

We had a blast watching the soul surfers – many of whom were around when surfing first emerged along our coastline – come by us on their long boards.  It was beautiful to see their classic wave rider style: standing tall on the board, close to the nose, with the front foot extended out like a graceful dancer.  The boards themselves were works of art.  One man had a wooden board akin to those of the 1950s when the sport was first gaining popularity.  Sharing waves with these soul surfers made me appreciate this wonderful hobby all the more. 

Just before calling it a day (there was pear salad and minced meat pie to make!), the three of us all spotted the same wave.  We had been chatting in our own little lineup away from the crowd when we saw this perfect wave slowly approaching from the horizon.  Almost in unison, we turned our boards to face the beach, dropped to our bellies, and started paddling.  Usually when several surfers all vie for the same wave, only one or two end up catching it; it’s just the way it goes.  For us though, the heavens had another plan.  All three of us caught this beautiful, clean wave and when we each realized that the other two had the same fortune, we squealed with delight (okay, maybe not Ted, but he was pretty freaking stoked too).  We were grinning from ear to ear, cheering each other on all the way to the beach.  It was amazing…a wave that we’ll never forget.

What a great way to spend Thanksgiving Day morning.

Wetsuit Time - November 12, 2010

I made it half-way through the fall without a wetsuit, and if it were left up to me, Thrifty Thelma, I’d see if I could push it to Christmas.  However, as the weeks went by, Ted noticed that I was shivering more and more during our sessions and he could probably hear my teeth chattering over the wind and the waves.  So to the surf shop we went.

My only other experience with a wetsuit was during high school swim practice in the late fall when a teammate brought a few suits to the pool.  There were no other takers when she offered them up, so I figured I’d give it a shot. 

With no instruction, I inefficiently began yanking it on.  By the time I finally had it up and zipped, I was not only exhausted (who knew it’d be this hard??), I was uncertain that it was the best fit.  I had to wait for my teammate to finish her warm up – that’s how long it took me to get it on – to ask her if the weird fit was due to the fact that it was her brother’s wetsuit. 

“Zipper goes in the back, Maureen,” she told me before she pushed off the wall to begin her next set of laps.

Huh.  That’s a simple fix – by the time I get this off and then back on again, swim practice will only be half over.

So I was a little nervous about getting back into a wetsuit, but luckily my experience at Mr. Surf’s wasn’t nearly as trying as the Mosley High School pool deck in 1998.  The clerk at the surf shop gave me a plastic bag to put my foot in before stepping through the leg of the suit to reduce the friction.  It worked like a charm and with a few other tips for getting into and out of a wetsuit (peel it off, don’t pull it off), I was pleasantly surprised at the ease with which the whole thing went down. 

I tried on two and ended up selecting a wonderfully stretchy 3/2 full suit.  The 3/2 measurement is in reference to the thickness in millimeters – it’s three around the core and two through the arms and legs.  That way, it’s a good blend of warmth where you need it most, and mobility everywhere else.

Next up was my boyfriend, who wanted to replace his old wetsuit.  Now, if I knew the spectacle that was about to ensue, I would have brought the camera.  He chose three suits to try on but for some reason, he seemed hurried to get through each one (note, putting on a wetsuit is not something you should rush).  It probably didn’t help that more than one attendant knocked on his fitting room door to make sure he didn’t need anything.  While they were just being attentive, I think it may have contributed to his rushing.

He liked the first two options, so he tried them both on one more time to make a decision.  Now the attendants were gathering around his door making small talk and trying to be helpful.  When he had the first one back on, he stepped out to show us…and that’s when I saw it, the pervasive beads of sweat that so frequently crop up just below his hairline.  He’ll start to sweat over just about anything.  Even eating something spicy will do it (and by “spicy,” I don’t mean a level of heat only found in a place like Goa, even a slice of pepper jack will get him cranking).  To borrow the words of my college roommate’s father, he has an “efficient cooling system.”

By the time he put back on the third option (so his fifth wetsuit donning of the day), he was sweating so much that the store owner actually asked him if he was okay.  He of course responded in a manner so nonchalantly that, if you were speaking to him over the phone and didn’t see his face becoming more flushed with each passing minute, you’d think he was lounging on the sofa watching The Masters.

As he continued posturing with this passé demeanor discussing the pros and cons of the two finalists, the number of attendants “helping” him was steadily growing (I guess news of The Sweater, had gotten around the shop).  But Ted’s not one to wilt under pressure.  Almost as though to make a point, he continued to weigh his choices until he eventually decided on the last suit he had on.  I think everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he went back into the dressing room to take off the neoprene insulation.

He must have really made an impression because they remembered him a few weeks later.  He was in the store to rent a suit for his daughter when the owner approached him.  He said something along the lines of, “Hey man, were you ok?  I’ve never seen someone get so overheated from trying on a wetsuit before.”

Not overheated, just efficiently processing the heat.

His Quicksilver and my Roxy 3/2 wetsuites

Video Blog = VLOG - October 10, 2010

This waterproof video camera is CRAZY cool!  We’ve used it quite a bit in the last month and Ted has put together a little montage of my surfing.  It's super melodramatic - you gotta do something to spice it up when the surfing isn't exactly a Wow Fest - and he went for a Spike Lee thing with his entry. 

When he was looking for a good song to use for the soundtrack, I think he was inspired by my Irish dancer-esque dismounts (you'll see what I mean).  Some people think river dance when they hear this kind of music.  Ted, evidently, thinks surf video.