Here is a quote from the speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives Kevin McCarthy after resorting to using Democratic votes to forestall shutting down the government, kicking the next episode of this ongoing drama to a time closer to Thanksgiving: “You can always count on the American people to do the right thing after they’ve exhausted every other option.” No comment, Kev, not even “Get fucked and go back to the valley.”

Here is a quote from Trish after I bought, with her help (so adept at on-line buying), some new (zip up- a surrender move to bone spurs- like, real ones) booties after using some (pull on) not-totally-worn out models borrowed from Keith after I (you may recall) accidentally threw away a bag containing my wetsuit, vest/hood, booties, and my day-glow leash: “How are you doing with gloves?” My response: “Oh, I don’t really need gloves.”

Here is my right hand after being knuckle-dragged across the ‘rock garden’ at a northwest break:

It isn’t just the cuts. If any exposed skin (including the face) hits the rocks at almost any spot on the Strait, there will be cuts. The bruising is an option not exclusive to, but definitely more common among the thinner-skinned less-young. It may get worse among the actually-old.

Here is the scene: The window of rideable waves was closing, the tide was dropping, and I was looking for one last wave. Or another last wave. Just another wipeout, really, but Cougar Keith, who had been too early for the waves, and too late to ride them during this session, was witness to the whole awkward thing; me rolling around, trying to stand up, getting knocked down several times.

Next time, my new gloves (thanks, Trish), will be on. I will sacrifice feeling the water to not feel the rocks.

Odd to me that as hard as I try to be fluid in the water, I look so embarrassingly dorky trying to get back ashore. When I recounted the session story to Adam Wipeout, someone who “Just knew, he said,

“It wouldn’t be an Erwin session without some blood.”

I do have a photo somewhere on when I decided I didn’t need booties. Again, rocks; big crusty rocks. No one got a photo, though everyone in the lineup noticed, when, in my excitement, I bit my tongue on takeoff on a wave early in a session. Evidently a red mustache is noticeable. Cougar Keith may have been out on that occasion. Witnesses. Accounts vary.

WAIT! This is what I really wanted to write about today: An Objective Look at Subjectivity.

AS I WAS waking up this morning, I guessed that it was 6:24. I looked up at the projected time on the ceiling from the clock radio on Trisha’s side of the bed. 6:26. Wow. My brain is just so… I looked at the non-projected time on the other clock radio. 6:29. Oh. I guess I’m just alway a little ahead. OR…

BEFORE I woke up I had this dream in which I was paddling for a wave. There was a sense of urgency. It was a left, and I took off on the shoulder, had an on-the-wave view of the face and the barrel as I rode it, ending with a Hawaiian pullout on the sand. NEW SCENE- I was walking up to someone who was standing by the open trunk of an older American car. “I got a 6.75,” I said, “might have won the heat if I’d gotten another wave.” “Really?” “Yeah. Why?” “Nothing.” “Oh, you just don’t believe I would ever get a 6.75.” “6.25, maybe.”

That’s when I woke up.

We have all noticed that the best waves and the best rides are the ones we didn’t see. Someone else’s story. EPIC. Sometimes, however, the same dreamy setup gets scored… differently when reported on by multiple witnesses. “Longboardable.” “Chest-to-shoulder, bigger on the sets.” Very popular.

I’m never really sure how to respond to reports of epic-ness that I miss. I am prone to believing the person who downplays size and wonderful-ness. Perfection-ness. One surfer I have respect for says, “So, what? A kook on a perfect wave?” And then there’s the “Have you ever seen ______ breaking, with the indicators going off and big roll-throughs and…” “Yes.”

STILL, the opportunities, real or exaggerated, that we miss sometimes stick with us longer than the sessions and conditions and rides we can exaggerate or embellish into the world of EPIC.

Not that I ever have, but, this one time, surfing Upper Trestles, glassy, knee-to-waist, with no one else out… Yeah, I know, it sounds like I’m lying, even though it was 1975, and it is, objectively, true… If someone else told me this, I would be… skeptical.

Look for the next sub chapter of “Swamis” Wednesday. I am thinking about resentment as it applies to surfing. Meanwhile, may everyone, even kooks, score EPIC.