Summer Shadetree Mechanics and…

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This might be your view heading to the Olympic Peninsula to look for surf. For me, it’s heading home. Mid summer, the sun sets straight up the hill on the west side of the Hood Canal Bridge. It’s no longer mid-summer. Perhaps we are re-entering surf season, such as that is.

My house is under the sun

The image kept going sideways. I almmost resorted to using AI. It turns out I don’t know how. Forced to add the caption. Afraid not to.

Flipped again. Crazy.

One can never have too many ladders. Unfortunately, I need a forty footer to complete this project. The staggering is a trick I learned as a sign painter apprentice, years ago, from a guy who busted up his knees coming home drunk from somewhere. I would move one of the two ladders as he moved across the billboard. I wrecked mine the slower way, 57 years of crawling and climbing. It’s the job. I can’t blame surfing; wouldn’t if I could.

ADAM “WIIPEOUT” JAMES POST BRAKE JOB #1

ADAM “WIPEOUT” JAMES, poster boy for the HAMA HAMA SEAFOOD empire, helped me with the brakes on the WINDSTAR I bought from him. The previous owner was another surfer, CLINT THOMPSON, a legend among the folks at the Port Townsend Boatyard. I got a very good deal on the rig, but had to wait a while to get the title sorted. I did drive it a bit, owned rather than borrowed, before the brakes totally went out in the middle of Silvverdale.

I managed to drive it (carefully, but, having always owned old work rigs, I have driven with limited braking ability more than once) to my daughter’s house in Port Gamble. I did call Adam en route. NO, not hands free. “What broke?” “Well…”

“Maybe you just need fluid.” OKAY. I have some in the BIG BOY VAN. The problem is one has to take the cowling off the front of the van (or I thought this was necessary) to get to the brake fluid reservoir. I whipped out my ragtag assortment of tools and started stripping stuff off. I added 8 ounces, called Adam. “Pump it!” I pumped it. Called Adam. “Used it all up.” “It was thirsty!”

I tried to call him again. Straight to voicemail. “The mailbox is full. Goodbye.” I sent a text with a possibly sarcastic tone to it, saying I hoped I got my money’s worth out of the van, plus everything I had learned from the internet, YouTube; and said I had almost asked chatGPT. I got a text back, later. from Adam. “Those are the breaks.” Brakes.

Believing I had used up all my brakeless driving karma, and feeling very reluctant to drive the van down Surf Route 101, we discussed other options. All this is with me saying, because it’s true, that Adam did not owe me anything, and I could get the van towed to Les Schwab.

There is way more to this story. Let’s call this PART I.

I JUST REALIZED I cut off Adam’s head. Not on purpose. I think, with my new phone, I have to send photos less than full sized to not have the problems. Anyway, I’m leaving it. Them’s the breaks. OH, don’t get me wrong. I am so pleased that Adammm helped me with the Clintmobile (Reggie has another name for the van- ask him), AND with the Highlander. PART II.

THE PLAN IS I will drive on an upcoming surf trip AND treat Adam to a post surf lunch or dinner at his choice of PA spots. I would be stoked. I mean, I will be.

Here’s a serious-ish poem I’m working on.

TOO LATE FOR THAT

I move at all; I will have to admit I am awake. If I look up at the time, projected in red on the ceiling, I will have to admit I am late. Already. Early sneaks away. Late charges. I don’t want to be awake. Not yet. Soon. Too soon.

If my brain hadn’t already awakened, ticker tape clicking from worry to worry, I could go back to sleep; fifteen minutes to make up for lost sleep at 3:18. Too late.

If I slide and twist and drop my feet to the ground; if I pull back the blackout curtains, the outside will still be pre-dawn dark; wet, a watercolor wash blurring the trees, the brush, the dead van sinking into the lawn gone feral.

The brilliance will break through soon. Too soon. 

I am moving, following, not chasing, the early, blinking in the brilliance.

If I hurry…

Dragons and Swamis in three point perspective

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, real surfers, surf art, surf fiction, surf illustrations, surf novels, Uncategorized, writings of Erwin Dence

NOTE- I have added a hopefully finished version of “SWAMIS,” CHAPTER 2, on PAGE IV. Also… PAGE VI, selected, previously posted, original illustrations, is now up to and including works from 2017. Scroll at your leisure. Or now.

Some things…

…don’t turn out the way we plan. Or, more like it, nothing turns out the way we envision. I have kind of given up on explaining any thought process, but… I did the lettering first on the ‘Swamis’ nevver going to be a cover drawing. It’s too overbearing, but, after I completed it, I showed it to my daughter, Dru. “It’s, like, three point perspective. See? The lettering, the ‘Magic,’ and the ‘Swamis,’ and the surfer.” “Oh, I didn’t notice the surfer at first.” “Right. The… layout, the arrangement… makes your eyes move from… I dropped Design class in college, like, three times. We were supposed to do something with three point perspective, and mine, probably the best, technically, was in, according to the professor… older woman… four point.” “Was she right?” “Sure.”

The ‘dragons’ drawing: I wanted to do something with a better rendered dragon, possibly slithering in a lined-up wave. I didn’t love the way it was going. This is the way it went, kind off in the spray and foam. As far as perspective… how would I know? Mine, I guess.

It’s not, necessarily, my plan to do color versions of illustrations that I intend to package as a coloring book, but I couldn’t help but provide a… version. The “Magic” drawing was colored with pens rather than pencils. Yeah, me explaining.

“Swamis” Update- As far as actually working on tightening the novel, I have excuses. Time and fear are the main ones. A third? Let’s say perspective.

Surf Report: Pretty bleak summer on the Strait, surf-wise. Yeah. Go coastal!

erwin@realsurfers.net Instagram me, realsurfersdotnet

NO AI USED on illustrations or, obviously, written content. Copyright protected. All rights reserved by Erwin A. Dence, Jr.

the next time I surf…

Posted on by under "New Yorker" cartoon submissions, Erwin Dence Cartoons, Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, Original Erwin, real surfers, realsurfers illustrations, writings of Erwin Dence

…I plan on wailing.

As I always plan on… wailing.

I just got to January of 2017 in posting most (not all) of my illustrations posted on realsurfers, starting at 2013, heading toward now. Maybe because I hit the last fourth of a century tomorrow, I thought I might put this back up. Although my own pen-and-ink drawing style was most inspired by work by RICK GRIFFIN, it has been more often compared to drawings by R. Crumb.

Yes, I was trying to break into the rarified company of NEW YORKER cartoonists. It didn’t work. Their loss. It took some some sleuthing to get an address, some nerve to make the request. I was an am pretty dang (could have said ‘fuckin”) stoked that I got a positive, and properly sardonic response.

Thanks, Robert Crumb.

“Yes, there’s “in” someone’s pocket, and “IN someone’s pocket.”

No, I don’t get it; hhoped the New Yorker snobs would. Their loss; oh, and perhaps this was my ‘green period’ of black and white pen and ink.

erwin@realsurfers.net

realsurfersdotnet on Instagram.

If you’re planning on surfing, always plan on wailing!

All original illustrations and other original content protected by copyright, all rights reserved by Erwin A. Dence, Jr. Thanks!

SUMMERTIME, AND THHE LIVING IS…

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, writings of Erwin Dence

EASY? Maybe. Sometimes summertime is busy; I have a lot going on. I’m sure you do, also. Part of my frustration is just trying to get some of my work (real job, painting contractor in the limited season in the Great Northwest) done. More work, less time… frustrating. Not haviing the tine to go into detail here, writing being one of my joys (surfing- yes and no, no time to go all the way to the coast.

Dru and I have been trying to take care of Trish during her sloooow recovery from the aftereffects of chemo and radiation. Trish has turned a corner; she’s getting stronger; less chemo fog; but she is still limited in mobility. She can’t be left alone for extended periods. And shouldn’t be.

While I’m trying to finish jobs, Dru is in the middle of the CONCERT season for the OLYMPIC MUSIC FESTIVAL. Not sure what her official title in running the non-music part of the non-profit is, but… Example- She worked until 11:30 PM last night, and had to be back in Port Townsend by 7:50 AM to open the WHEELER THEATRE at FORT WORDEN for the piano tuner. Concert this afternoon. Paper work until… Same schedule tomorrow.

Some of the musical activities take place at ARCADIA, just out of town. This is one of few remaining serigraphs I did of the venue, back in the late 1980s. I found it and some other prints in the attic a few years ago. I’m posting it here so Dru can show… whoever.

I have to go. Hope you’re surfing, hanging, bobbing in the water; enjoying summer.

I will update from the tablet. Later. Oh, and it’s my birthday on Monday. 40th anniversary of turning 35.

Them There Awful CALIFORNIANS

Posted on by under northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, Port townsend surfing, real surfers, surf satire, writings of Erwin Dence

SATURDAY UPDATE: Not all writers and/or artists are anal retentive. Some might be the opposite (anal explosive, I’ve been told- kind of believe it). And while I’m thinking about it, the opposite of PHALLIC symbolism in art and architecture and billionaires’ private spacecraft; and I have noticed this in art and in “Lord of the Rings,” is, I’m informed, by various sources on the internet, YONIC. References the womb. I didn’t get too investigative. Okay, but, years ago, an artist whose work was totally not phallic, told me it was VAGINAL. All this time, I was fine with that.

All that aside, my stuff, particularly on PAGE III, Serious Writing, is mostly written on-site rather than on Microsoft Word, and even if it originally was, I can’t help going back over it, refining, editing. YES, this explains something about my novel, “SWAMIS,” the anal retentive part being how difficult it is to delete something that I believe is kind of decent.

I have a new piece, part of my occasional dream diaries, and I’ve made changes to two pieces on PAGE III: “Between the Walls of Trees,” a short short story, and “Into the Void,” a poem/song. Since I’m stuck on differences, I usually develop songs while driving; repeating one verse, adding others in. Because of this process, I remember the words better than something I write on the computer. BUT THEN, I want the piece to make sense and have a certain flow. Retentive.

Update complete for now.

SEVERAL FRIENDS hepped me to this; it’s a screen grab from this guy, R. Jesus Delacruz (translates to ‘of the cruz’), evidently talking some shit about Port Townsend folks. Not that I don’t. Nothing too serious from me. But, yes, folks selling a mid-priced hone in CA and buying a McMansion here is kind of erksome.

Not sure if he focused on me, or if I was just part of a pan, left or right, but…this was taken at the SAVE THE WAVES event in which a short film, “ERWIN” (available for viewing on the ‘about’ page), was being aired as part of a worldwide tour.

Doesn’t mean I am not from California. I AM A REFUGEE. Of sorts. Sold a house in San Diego in 1978, moved to Quilcene. Two of my three children were born in Port Townsend. Not sure when or where Mr. Delacruz was born, and don’t care.

ALSO, while trying to shed any vestiges of my California-ness, I’m not trying to get him more coverage.

Got to go. Work to do in Port Townsend for folks who are from somewhere else, but not from California. No, no; again; don’t care.

erwin@realsurfers.net

Occasionally I post on Instagram. More often I comment on other people’s posts. Can’t help it. Need counseling. It’s just… putting emojis isn’t, like, much more meaningful than hitting the heart symbol. It’s realsurfersdotnet.

Great weekend for hanging on the beach, any beach, trying to will a swell. Good luck, and thanks for checking out my humbled blog.

Surfing Angry

Posted on by under surf addiction, surf culture, surf satire, surfing, Uncategorized, writings of Erwin Dence

Update- Check out a short short story on page III

Reality versus perception. Whether one focuses on some dreamy, blissful time bobbing in the beauty of the ocean; or imagines entering the high intensity, frightening, high risk, big wave scenario; or one longs to be part of the scene on the beach; anger and frustration are not a large part of the construct.

But crowds and near impossible paddle outs, closeouts and drop in change the image, push one toward reality: Surfing well is not easy.

One could get angry. One could lash out. Surf Rage, something beyond A sense of resentment toward those scoring bombs and non-bomb set waves could become the reality.

Or one, and count me as one, could work out the pre surf anticipation and adrenaline peak by picking up a few scraps. Basically, by chilling the fuck out!

Photo by Keith Darrock

Meanwhile, with a lot going on in my life, I tell myself that the next opportunity for me to surf will have me taking my time, patiently waiting, perfectly willing to let a wave go to another, congratulating others on mediocre rides, sharing my gratitude for just being in the water.

That is the plan. The reality is this: I rarely surf angry. I always surf hard. The pent up feelings that have me thinking about surfing, next time, ruthlessly, don’t typically play out. Froth and rage are related, not twin emotions.

But, next time isn’t here yet. Yet.

I am writing this on my tablet. There’s A connection issue with my big boy computer. Frustrating. Yet, I am so so so chill.

Thanks for checking realsurfers.net. See you.

Deleting from and Adding to “Swamis”

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, real surfers, writings of Erwin Dence

I have been too busy to do work on my latest (theoretically/optimisticly finished) rewrite of my novel. OR it has been low on my priority list. HOWEVER AND ALWAYS, thoughts about it pop up. This needs more, this less. One thought that recurs is that my first chapter is, possibly, too cool. I claim to hate cuteness and too-cuteness; but there it is. Dialogue without stage direction I insist is enough.

SO, I may cut it out entirely. NO, NO, not that; I will move it to CHAPTER IV as an alternative.

Check it out. Thanks. Is today, or is every day INTERNATIONAL SURFING DAY?

erwin@realsurfers.net

realsurfersdotnet on the Gram.

Back to Skip (Frye) and Me

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July 28- PAGE VI NOW includes illustrations from 2016. Check it!

July 27- There are new posts on PAGE III, ‘serious writings,’ and PAGE VII, ‘Erwin talks to strangers.’

SKIP FRYE, PB POINT, AND PIRACY

Trish and I got married in November 1971 (she just 19, me a mature 20). We moved to Pacific Beach (PB), first to a one bedroom on Felspar, two blocks from Crystal Pier, then to the La Jolla Bella apartments, just up the hill from Tourmaline. $185/month for two bedrooms, two bathrooms.

And, for the first time since I was a baby, in Surf City, North Carolina, I was a local! Yee-haw (only carryover from babyhood)! I could skateboard or bike down to the pier, or hit the canyon, always hoping PB Point would break or there would be a connecting wall. Rare, but appreciated.

It’s not as if I made friends. There was a sort of ghetto mentality. Head down, no real eye contact. But, I did become known in the lineup and did become familiar with local standouts. I was aggressive, but teenage “pier rats,” led by Joe Roper, were always there, kicking boards at non-stop locals from, like, Claremont.

I had some run ins, but not really with the young guys. This is me, working man, before or after work and weekends. Here is where Skip Frye comes in. He would be out, somewhere on the stretch, navigating the crowd. I was most impressed at how he found waves between set waves, and casually found smooth lines while others were dropping in, bailing if the wave closed out (I meant when) relying on kook cords to save them from swimming. This with, possibly, me behind them, maybe someone within the length of the leash.

As always, I was thrashing and repairing (mostly thrashing) boards. I would go to the Gordon & Smith factory for materials. I often saw Skip Frye. Working. My image is of him, beside a dumpster, possibly trying to figure out if he recognized me. I don’t believe we ever spoke.

NoAt that I didn’t want to.

Somewhere before Trish an I bought a condo in University City (east of I-5…ahhh) Morey-Pope introduced the Waterskate. Thick down rails coming up to a raised line, that dropping to a flat deck. The boards were being produced by G&S.

I wanted one. I had pretty much totaled the cutting edge Surfboards Hawaii twin fin Trish had custom ordered for me. I had a tentative relationship with the PB Surf Shop, having done some graphics and having done menus and such for a hamburger/sandwich shop that shared the space.

Some guys with some connection were trying to sell custom garage soul boards out of the shop. They pirated the waterskate, shaped it, I painted the blank, they glassed it.

I cruise down to Tourmaline, after work, to try it out. There, on the beach, looking at me as if he might recognize me… Skip Frye.

We didn’t speak. Still, I felt a Pirate’s guilt.

The problem with the design was that stress cracks came on quickly, following the ridges. I ended up ripping off the deck’s glass, sanding out the ridges, reglassing. .

I probably bought materials at G&S. That may be where one of my lasting image of Skip Frye comes from.

Last thing: In his segment on “Pinch my Salt, ” Skip mentioned an encounter with a seal ” Out by the boil” at PB Point. One of my fondest memories is of surfing a perfect little peak alone. I took off deeper on each wave. I tried to backdoor the wave, my fin skidded out, my brand new leash dragged me across the reef. I came up with seagrass in my fingernails. And so so stoked!

I should mention thankful. Skip would. Thank you!

I am doing this on my tablet. I have some new stuff on other pages. I will update… Later.

erwin@realsurfers.net

Get a few!

Negative Image of “Swamis”

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, writings of Erwin Dence

Yeah, I am still working on it. Possibly the only advantage of taking so damn long on the novel is that new things come to me, little details I can inject into the story. Here’s one I haven’t added. Yet: A somewhat crazed guy hanging out every evening at sunset talks to Joey with some wild and poetic descriptions. If Joey seems insufficiently impressed, it might be a worthwhile addition to have him mention this.

I will get back to this when I get the image (copyright protected) reversed, black to white. This doesn’t mean I won’t make other changes. In fact, that’s guaranteed. See you!

Skip Frye and I, Skip Frye and Me

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Erwin Dence illustrations, Original Erwin, real surfers, surf culture, surfing blogs, surfing for life, surfing novels, surfing Southern California in the 60s, writings of Erwin Dence

UPDATES- NONE at the moment- Saturday, July 18.BUT…

Skip Frye and I, Skip Frye and Me- Several Anecdotes

INTRO-

A sudden, not-going-to-last obsession with classic surfer Skip Frye was triggered by an episode of “Pinch my Salt” showing up on YouTube. I’m fine watching a snippet of the pretty smarmy Sterling Spencer, but I’m never ready to spend an hour plus watching… anyone. This is what fast forward is for. 

This episode promised an interview with Skip; but it did start without him. So, fast forward; though I had to watch a portion where Sterling claimed someone ‘picked his pocket.’  It turned out to be a not unusual ‘chat and steal.’ One of my standard moves.  Or so I’ve been told.

Then, on to the interview. If someone personifies an eighty-three-year-old lifetime (not Skip’s, probably yours) San Diego surfer, no one better fills the role than Mr. Frye.  The hosts were respectful, though Skip was pushed to say something negative about soft tops (he said someone gave him one, but he’d never ride it), surfers who put their names on popouts (almost did because Donald Takayama wanted him to make some real money, but died before it might, or might not have happened), and modern surfing competition, the toughest and truest thing he would say, though he did contests, is that the one winner ruthlessness takes something away from what is often referred to as soul surfing.

Skip, who tries to turn out six boards a week, none cheap, all highly sought after, is still the epitome of soul. Surfing or otherwise.

The other guy on the podcast, Sterling’s cousin Ryan Spencer, asked the viewers to pleas be nice to Skip in the comments. I checked. Not a negative comment in the bunch, and, when Skip pulled out a harmonica at the end and played a mellow version of, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” well, people broke into tears. Or so they said.

TAMARACK, 1965-

My family (seven kids, our mom) was parked in the lower lot, as always. I was a total beginner/kook, just switching over from mat to board. I was probably still sharing my older sister’s (Suellen’s) 9’4” stock Hobie. There had been some sort of contest. Surfers and their entourages were loading up, ready to head home. “Skip was robbed!” “Skip should’ve won!”

I have this image, real or not, in my permanent files: A blond-haired guy shrugging off the comments meant to reassure him. 

PACIFIC BEACH, SAN DIEGO- 1971-1973- Later. I gotta go. But, coming… STEALING a design from TOM MOREY, surfing from Tourmaline to Crystal Pier ala Skip, finding nuggets in a crowded lineup, soul arching, ala Skip, just for the fun of it.

The Morey-Pope WATERSKATE, produced by Gordon & Smith; probably shaped by SKIP FRYE.

ULTRA CLASSIC TRIO- Photo by RON STONER, MICHAEL HYNSON paddling out, and SKIP (never not in trim) SKIP FRYE soul arching at THE RANCH.

I want to stress that I have been doing some research on this stuff. I have always been intrigued by the Hynson/Frye friendship, partially because they seem like such different individuals. If I give Hynson a lot of credit for downrail surfboards, prove me wrong. It was interesting to learn, from the podcast, that they were riding boards Michael had shaped for the 1966 Duke Kahanamoku contest. Cool.

CONTACT- erwin@realsurfers.net InstaGram- realsurfersdotnet

Thanks for checking out my site. Get some waves, summer isn’t really endless.