El Meezy Would Go

Do you still get that feeling? The one where you're so excited to get to the break that the almost nervous energy is palpable. You can keep yourself from hyperventilating a little but you have to think about it. That was me, this evening.

I sometimes stash my board at work and run to The Local if it's working. While a lot of my sessions are dawn patrols, my actual favorite time of the day to surf is just before dusk. The sun starts dipping in the sky and if you're lucky, it's completely clear and you watch the sky change colors. Beautiful hues of orange, purple and red and you're out in the water. Sometime I stay out just to the point where I almost can't see what's coming at me, because at that moment, I'm in church and my mind is clear.

When I got to The Local, there wasn't a soul in the water. Not a soul, because it was windy and there wasn't much going on in the way of waves. I told myself that it looked like there was a peak down by "The Bath House". Pity that the company doing work on the causeway has once again closed that section of parking as they drag out that state contract as long as they can because maybe then I could have just parked down that end of the beach and seen if there was an actual peak. However, maybe I would have decided it wasn't worth it and turned around and left. If I did that, I wouldn't have made the long walk down towards that end and I would have missed how the wind was blowing hard enough to make the dry sand blow across the damp, packed stuff in tendrils that reminded me of images in Lawrence of Arabia. I wouldn't have had the place all to myself. I wouldn't have caught that one right that peeled properly because the wind slacked at the right time and I wouldn't have taken the opportunity to paddle back to the parking lot and really pay attention to how I moved through the water.

You see, sometimes it's not just about getting out there when it's pumping or even reasonably "good". Sometimes, you just have to go.

Get Shacked

We are fortunate to have a wonderful and gracious friend, who, for the sake of the tale, I'll refer to as "Ella Din"(her self-chosen nom du stuff). She and her family have a vacation house in Wells, Maine that we score an invite to every year when Ella has the place solo.

We went up a couple weeks ago to spend the night. Whenever I find myself crossing into NH and then Maine, I immediately feel an immediate sense of calm and relaxation(even though I remain a fairly mellow fellow). As always, our time there was well spent in the company of fun folks, indulging in good food, drink and conversation.

I scored Thing 1 a shorty wetsuit at Liquid Dreams in Ogunquit and the young man rode his first wave on the front of the Mayo. I got in a couple of sessions, one small and closed out due to some seriously stiff offshores and the other, much bigger and closed out, due to some seriously stiff offshores. C'est la vie. Thing 1 rode his first wave!

The title refers to another of my favorite pastimes, the seeking out of the best local seafood/clam shacks in the area to sate my palate. In this case, our friend Ella suggested a spot we hadn't been to before, the Fisherman's Catch in Wells. Following the adage that the juice is worth the squeeze or, the whole taking of the path less traveled deal, Fisherman's Catch is worth looking for. I went for the handpicked lobster roll, which was as it should be, mostly meat with just a hint of mayo on a grilled hot dog roll and some seriously delicious chowder. My palette was schooled in what makes a proper chowder by no less a connoisseur than my Pops, who can taste a canned clam a mile away. I think he would've given the chowder at Fisherman's Catch the nod. The season is almost over, however, so if you're going to check it, get there soon.

I think we're going to start a "cottage fund"(in addition to a college fund). We need more time up there.

A Tale of Two Sessions

The good fall swell continued this weekend and I actually managed to get out both yesterday morning as well as this morning. Both sessions, interestingly enough, started out kind of frustrating...close-outs with no shoulder to speak of. Basically it was one turn and then you ate shit but on both days, it got better as the tide backed off and I got some great rides.

In typical bass-ackwards fashion, I rode what should have been the wrong board on both days. Yesterday, I was on the Mini-Zombie and the waves were a bit softer and a little smaller. I should have been on the Mayo to get in earlier but I wound up sitting further in and scouted out a great little peak that was fun as hell. Today, it was bigger, steeper and had more power, so of course I rode the Mayo, ostensibly because I wanted to get in earlier, although the wind was standing them up enough that some serious paddling was required to get in and the Mini-Zombie probably would have been better for the drops. I guess the old adage of "archer not arrow" was proven true.

Still and all, the next "arrow" that I have my eyes on and will hopefully be ordered this winter/early spring and from all my research, may be the best of both worlds. Length to get in earlier and foiled out for speed and maneuverability. In a word...a Sam. Dig:

Jonesing.