Category Archives: northwest surfing

Original Erwins in Progress, “Swamis” Again

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing, Original Erwin t-shirts, real surfers, realsurfers illustrations, surf fiction, surf novels, surfing art, surfing Swamis, surfing the strait of juan de fuca

Now that I am committed to putting out a new round of ORIGINAL ERWIN t-shirts, I’m going through my past drawings AND doing some new ones. I scanned these two on my printer AND I have two more illustrations that I have to take to a print shop. AS ALWAYS, attempting to go simpler, I fail.

LET’S DISCUSS THE SURF SITUATION on the Olympic Peninsula and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. NOT GOOD. Now, if you’re almost anywhere SOUTH of here, you should be scoring. AND the forecast is not too… thrilling. BUT I do have my HOBIE patched up and I’ve done some work on the MANTA. I’m ready to leap into some wind chop when it… let me check the forecast. Yeah, wind chop. That’s official.

As far as “Swamis” goes, I am committed to what JUST HAS TO BE a final draft before the ridiculously scary act of trying to actually sell the novel. I moved the former first chapter to the end, and though I am dying to write about what fictionally happened to the fictional characters between 1969 and now, I’m going to NOT… not yet.

My hope is that, now that I’ve completely mind-surfed the hell out of plot and characters, I might be able to cut the length down from the current 104,000 thousand words. HERE IS the new prologue and a bit more:

“SWAMIS” A novel by Erwin A. Dence, Jr.

                                    PROLOGUE

            Some events, terror and bliss, mostly, which occurred in seconds, in moments; those almost nothing in the expanse of time; expand, over time, into placemarks; a corner turned, a road taken, a life changed. Magic.

            Half a century after the events, I started writing “Swamis,” as memoir. It no longer is that. This is my fourth full rewrite, with so many discarded words, deleted chapters, all in attempting to turn notes and dreams, images and remembered dialogue, into a story. I have tried to do justice to the various people, characters here, but real people with real lives, who changed mine. There are people who have come into my life, changed it in some way, and gone out. Somewhere. For the most part I do not know where they went, but I do wonder. Wonder.

            The story centers on a very specific time, 1969, in a very specific place, North San Diego County. I was turning eighteen, in love, and the world I wanted swirled and revolved around surfing, and surfing revolved around Swamis.

            My apologies for my writing style. Years of writing briefs, documents. Dry, perhaps, but thorough. A friend’s review of an earlier draft concluded I went for detail and clarity rather than flash and description.

“I don’t use a lot of adjectives in regular speech,” I countered.

“But this is writing,” she said, “The prologue shouldn’t be an apology.”

“Honest.”

“Sure, and it is… your own voice. Yes, it is that, and, as your mother said, ‘the mind fills in the colors.’ Different thing, I know. Photos, stories; it still applies.”

“Not arguing.”

“Not yet. But… ambiguity and bullshit aside, you don’t exactly nail down who the killer was. Or killers were. Some detective novel, Atsushi.”

“It’s in there. And… doesn’t that explain the need for detail and clarity? And, more importantly, I never said it was that… A detective novel. Trueheart.”

“There’s no such thing as a seventeen-year-old detective. Not in real life.”

“It’s in there; that quote; in the text. And… as far as real life goes…”

“From your particular viewpoint.”

“That’s all any of us have.”

 “But… Joey… you called me a friend. ‘A friend’s review.’”

“Just another draft, Julie; I can… change it.”

“To what?”

“Keep reading. It’s in there.”

                                    CHAPTER ONE- MONDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2023

            “The allure of waves was too much, I’m told, for an almost three-year-old, running, naked into them. If I say I remember how the light shone through the shorebreak waves, the streaks of foam sucked into them; if I remember the shock of cold water and the force with which the third wave knocked me down, the pressure that held me down, my struggle for air; if I say I remember anything other than my mother clutching me out and into the glare by one arm… Well, that would be, this all happening before the accident; that would be… me… creating a story from fragments. Wouldn’t it, Doctor?”

            “Memories. Dreams. We can’t know how much of life is created from… fragments. But, please, Joey; the basketball practice story; I didn’t get a chance to write it down. So, the guy…”

            “Locker room. After. I’m not here because of that… offense.”

            “I am aware. Just… humor me.”

            “He said I had a pretty big… dick… for a Jap. I said, ‘Thank you.’ All the Varsity players came in. Most stood behind him. He said, ‘Oh, that’s right; your daddy the cop, he’s all dick.’ Big laugh.”

“Detective,” I said. “Sorry about your brother at the water fountain, but I’m on probation already… and I don’t want to cut my hand… on your front teeth.’”

            “Whoa! Did that end it? Joey. Joey, are you… You’re remembering the incident.”

            “I tried to walk away. He… Basketball. I never had a shot. Good passer, great hip chuck.”

            “All right. So, let’s talk about the incident for which you are here.”

ALL RIGHTS to all ORIGINAL WORK by Erwin A. Dence, Jr. are reserved by the author/illustrator. THANK YOU for respecting these rights, AND, AS ALWAYS, for checking out realsurfers.net

“Swamis” ‘Sexy Scene’, FrankenSUP, More from the Adam’s Family Big Island Vacation, and…

Posted on by under "New Yorker" cartoon submissions, northwest surfing, real surfers, surf addiction, surf novels, surf-related short storties, surfing Swamis, surfing the strait of juan de fuca, writings of Erwin Dence

…that’s about it. Oh, yeah; HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

I AM, AGAIN, at the end of the latest complete rewrite of “Swamis.” As in, where an author is supposed to write, in case a lack of more pages isn’t enough, “THE END.” I wrote, “NOT EVEN CLOSE TO THE END.” The current version is, after thousands of words were cut, at a little over 103,000 words. As I explained in an earlier post, I was forced to move the first chapter, which, cleverly, I thought, set in something more like the current time, answered a lot of questions I didn’t want to spell out at the end.

AFTER several attempts to write something concise AND with the all important AWESOME first line, I am pretty much just changing all the chapter numbers on my next go-through. LAST? I hope so. ONE OF THE ISSUES I wanted a new opening chapter to deal with is the writing style of the fictional narrator, JOSEPH DeFREINES, JR, aka Atsushi Defreines, aka Jody, aka Joey.

It sort of comes down to whether, as I’m hoping, the clues JOEY finds along the course of the novel are enough for a reader to draw conclusions. It’s not some conscious attempt at might-be-cool (or another failed attempt at it) AMBIGUITY, but Mr. DeFreines, who, after years as an attorney (alluded to but not overtly stated) writes in a very controlled way, clarity over flash. To that end, I wrote, and will not use, a line like, “I don’t use a lot of adjectives in my regular conversation, why should I do so because I’m writing rather than telling the story.”

WHAT’S CHANGED in my constantly working and editing and thinking about the story, “Swamis,” is that it has become much more a love story, Julie and Joey, tangled in the rush and roar of 1969. I have tried to convince the LOVE OF MY LIFE, TRISH, that it would make a great HALLMARK MOVIE. “Oh, with a guy being burned alive and all that?” “Yes I mean, it’s not gratuitous.”

I might be if Joseph DeFreines used more ADJECTIVES.

With apologies for going on about this, I wrote a sub-chapter, moved it to another place because I didn’t know where to fit it in. The place is now the depository of the latest rounds of cuts. AND, when I asked our daughter, DRUCILLA, to check out something on the laptop I am borrowing from her, she had to comment, out loud, “Oh, ‘Sexy scene,” to which Trish responded, “Really? I might have to read that.”

Sexy Scene for “Swamis”

“No, Julie, it was more you than me… The kissing. I was… more… controlled.”

It was late in the afternoon. There were still three surfers out. Julie and I were on the point end of the lifeguard tower. Our towels had slid into a single pile on the x shaped cross members. “No, Joey. You certainly were not.”

“I certainly tried to be… controlled.”

Julie reached into her big gray bag, unwrapped a top, basically something like a small apron. “Controlled. You… weren’t. But… enthusiastic. Yes.”

“More like surprised.”

“Are you going to… look away?”

“You look away; I’m the one who’s… topless.”

“Yes, you are.” Julie put the palm of her left hand on my chest. “You and your stick out nipples.”

“Nipples?” I crossed my arms over my chest.  Julie untied the strap on her bikini top, her left hand holding her top to her chest. She widened her eyes. I turned, untangled my towel from hers, spun around and backed up a bit closer to her, holding the towel up and out in front of both of us. “In case those guys… in the water, have… really good eyesight.”  

“Really good? Thanks.”

“Not a… I didn’t mean…”

Julie pressed her body against mine, slid her arms around me, her hands on my chest until she had my alleged stick out nipples between the first two fingers of each hand.

I tried not to inhale. Failed. A deep breath I was afraid to exhale.

“Don’t giggle, Joey.”

“You are.”

 “You know it was my birthday…” Julie stopped giggling. “…over the weekend. I’m legal!”

“Congratulations. I’m not… legal… yet.”

“I’m willing to risk it.” Julie took a breath. “If you are.”

The towel dropped away as I spun, slowly, with control, Julie’s arms never fully pulling away, toward Julie, my arms squeezing her closer.

Closer.

I FEEL DUTY-BOUND to now mention that, whether or not I use this for the novel, it is still protected by copyright. Thanks for respecting that.

WIPEOUT UPDATE- This is the EMU Adam “Wipeout” James’s son, EMMETT caught off the Big Island. It was prepared by a chef in Seattle, presumably the woman in the photo. ALSO, and it may be because, like realsurfers.net, Adam and the HAMA HAMA OYSTER COMPANY have a world wide reach, my site got a higher than average number of hits since I posted the photos and story of the Adam’s family vacation. So, thanks.

FRANKENSUP UPDATE- Thanks to Joel Carbon for the apt description. Yes, that is my thumb. Yes, I did need a skil saw to cut the fin box out of the tail section of the first SUP I owned. And chisels, and knives. I filled in the big divot with foam from the same board, used some leftover cloth and some resin given me by Keith Darrock to cover the wound. Oh, and the sawhorses were from Mikel “Squintz” Comiskey, cutting down on possessions before he moved to the Big Island. I am also holding on to binoculars and a trophy he won at the Cape Kawanda Longboard contest a few years ago. I’m using the trophy, a beautiful turned bowl, for my keys, not that I still don’t still misplace them.

SPEAKING OF OLD DUDES WITH BAD MEMORIES, I’m thinking that will be my new excuse for bad lineup behavior when I get back to searching the Strait of Juan de Fuca for waves. “Backpaddling? Oh, sorry, I didn’t notice you.” Yeah, age, along with my wearing earplugs and my hearing being no better than marginal without them.

I DO PLAN on doing more board repair on the HOBIE. I guess I’ve had it for six or seven years, way longer than any other board I’ve ever owned (and thrashed), and ALL I WANT is another six or seven years out of it.

It’s still Winter. Get some waves when you can. And, again, HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY to all the lovers out there.

INSTANT COMMENTARY from (obvious alias) Frank Lee Darling: “If your taking a swipe at Biden. He doesn’t remember all the good things he’s done. Marmalade Man can’t thinnk of any. Because bone spurs never don anything that wasn’t self serving. That’s it. Connot wait til you book comes out. Probably banned and or burnt in Fla.

Why You Shouldn’t Care What Others Think About Your Surfing and Why You DO

Posted on by under hipster surfers, northwest surfing, old surfers, surf culture, surfing, surfing the strait of juan de fuca

I tried to pre-write this, but I had to edit it. WHY? Because I care.

I do care. I almost wish I didn’t… but I do. Every time I surf I try to surf as well as the waves will allow, and as well as I can.

Yes, I surf for fun, and I do have fun, but it would be even funner if I didn’t put asterisks next to my name and provide disclaimers before others get the opportunity to do so. But I do. I do this any time I describe myself (to pretty much anyone) as a surfer (“No, really, I surf, but…”), or if I recall (even to myself) my latest surf session (“Sure, I was ripping it up, but… knees, age, big ass board, paddle, years of experience, etc.”). Not excuses, explanations.

The negative self-explainers are pre-staged, baked-in as I try to gauge or grade my ability to ride waves in relation to others in the water (“Okay, five people out. I’d say I was… third best.”). Subjective. And I have asked other surfer’s opinions (“More like four; you’re getting… better.”). Subjective. The other, more important criteria was whether or not my surfing was improving (“Oh, I got in your wave? Hey, man, I’m just learning, etc.”). Excuse.

All this self-analysis goes on before (“Oh, it’s crowded, tricky, someone’s feelings are going to get hurt”), during (“Why didn’t I go for a side-slip?”), and after, all the while trying to guess what others might be saying (“Sure, he catches a lot of waves, but…), which of the available asterisks they might put beside my name, or exactly how others gauge or grade or… judge my surfing ability. I wish I didn’t care, but I do. And maybe you do.

But here’s the truth: No one is analyzing you as much as you are self-analyzing.

With exceptions. In fact, an even truer truth: Everyone judges everyone else; we attempt to put ourselves in front of or behind you in an innumerable number of categories, one of which, as surfers, is the ability to ride a wave competently. And we rate each other, definitely, on where a person fits on the kook-to-cool-to-totally arrogant dick/princess scale.

My site being ‘realsurfers’ is discriminatory. You are or you aren’t. Qualifications vary.

I recently asked a woman surfer on the beach if she judges whether a random person, before he or she actually gets in the water, is a decent surfer. “Definitely.”

“Yeah. If I saw me, I’d say (disclaimer alert) ‘that guy’s too old, too fat… not a real surfer.’” “Probably,” the woman may have said, and could have added “But…” Objective. I can… surf.

On the same outing, I asked a guy about the GoPro mounted on the front of his board. “WHY?” “Huh.”  “I mean, everyone, no matter how good or bad he or she surfs, or how big the wave is, if the camera’s pointed at the surfer, it just looks… fake… Beach Party kind of fake.” “Well, I do it to work on my technique.”

At that point, because I am pretty far along on the ‘arrogant dick’ scale, I replicated the GoPro moves. I’m not sure the guy appreciated it. Still, realistic.

It should be easily believed that none of us look as cool as we think we do. A simple cell phone video from the shore or a fancy drone shot will prove this. Easily.

All surfers look awkward some of the time, some look stylish some of the time, few look either stylish or awkward all of the time. Maybe Clay Marzo can look awkward AND stylish all the time.

Forgive me, but I really don’t care how well you say you surf. Or once surfed. I’ve pretty much given up on telling people I rode six-foot boards for years, or I surfed here or there, or that I have surfed waves that were… challenging.

No. I still do that, but I wish I could… stop.  

If I recount my history and list my credentials, it might not explain why I can’t surf up to my self-hype. That could be embarrassing. If I cared.

And I do.

For me, it’s all part of the FUN. Fun-funner-funnest. See you… out there.

Dear Hobie… Sponsor Me… Please

Posted on by under classic surfboards, northwest surfing, old surfers, real surfers, surfing tales, surfing the strait of juan de fuca

BEFORE I get into how HOBIE SHOULD SPONSOR ME (as in provide me with a replacement for the board, above), I want to apologize for not posting on Wednesday. I woke up on Thursday and thought it was Wednesday. It wasn’t. RATHER than putting out something to explain this but without any worthwhile content, I… well, I’m posting this now. Sunday. For some reason, I kept thinking yesterday was Sunday, as in, “It seems like a lot of people go to church and then… Costco,” to which my friend STEPHEN R. DAVIS, replied, “Do a lot of people go to church on Saturday?” I still didn’t catch it. “Jewish people, Seventh Day Adventists,” to which Steve could have replied, “Oh, but then do they go shopping… on the SABBATH?” Still didn’t get it.

PERHAPS MY CONFUSION had some connection to my beloved HOBIE 10’6″ SUP, admittedly well-to-overused-to-thrashed, having its fin violently ripped out, half the fin box gone, a certain amount of foam and fiberglass with it.

PERHAPS, MY ASS; it was totally that.

THE MOST TRAGIC thing about the incident is that I was in no way ready to get out of the water.

It was one of those sessions that was a combination of really fun rides and some beatdowns. NOTE, I would never trade a session like this a soft and safe one, nothing bad, nothing great. HAVING SAID THAT (and this may the first time I’e ever said ‘having said that’), I’m pretty much frothed up to overflowing anytime I see the kind of waves there is just no way I’m not going to attempt to ride.

SO, after a few behind the section wipeouts left me in the impact zone, with, of course, five or six wave sets, and after losing my paddle on another ride (and thanks to the guy who spotted it and grabbed it), I was cruising along on another insider when… FWAPPP! “What?” It felt like I’d hit a drifting log or something; the sound was like hitting a two-by-four against another one; and then… yeah, I finished the ride, flipped the board over and…

YES, I did tell others on the beach that I felt like crying. I did… feel like it, having an opportunity to watch others surf waves, some of which I might have been on. I DIDN’T. I still might. I love that board. ODDLY, my unused froth seemed to be channelled into being nice to pretty much everyone I ran into. “Have a nice day,” stuff like that, though, on the way home, at the exact moment another rig with surfboards on the racks passed me, they going out, me going home, I whispered something like “Good luck,” something I in no way meant. Sincerely.

So, dear HOBIE, HERE’S MY PITCH:

The first surfboard I ever rode, in 1965, was my sister SUELLEN’S 9’4″ stock model HOBIE; wide, thick, rounded nose, adequate kick, big ass fin. I loved that board. SO MUCH so that our parents had to get me a board of my own. NO, not, sadly, a Hobie.

ADMITTEDLY, I have loved other boards. SURFBOARDS HAWAII; still have fond memories of my 9’10” noserider, my 9’6″ pintail, my 6’something” twin fin (TRISH bought this for me- custom). And I have had dalliances with backyard/soul/homemade boards I put together from stripped-down longboards or blanks (seconds) purchased from the GORDON AND SMITH factory. I have surfed on at least one board (a popout) my father purchased from those confiscated at Trestles.

If most surfers suffer from BOARD ENVY, or even BOARD LUST, and I cannot truly say that I do not look at the fancy boards (and I’m imagining a 6 foot JJF FISH I saw in this guy’s tricked-out Sprinter van) owned by surfboarders who in no way can do the board justice, or ride it properly (and realizing, sadly, that I haven’t been capable for riding sub-nine-foot boards for many years) with some of that lust in my heart.

I also realize it means little to say I never owned, or wanted to own a board by HANSEN or GORDON AND SMITH; as if I had some sort of loyalty. It may say something about something if I admit I shared a sort of prejudice, when I lived in San Diego County, against any board manufactured north of DANA POINT, and now that BING is, evidently located there, though I am 1,200 mile away, I kind of think Bing board might be okay. AND, since I’m confessing stuff here, I should mention that I had a local shop, when I lived in Pacific Beach, pirate a shape (WATERSKATE) designed by Morey/Pope and test ridden by PB legend SKIP FRYE.

STILL, after riding a longboard made by an OLYMPIC PENINSULA shaper, which I didn’t love, but got at a decent price, and procuring an 11’6″ SUP made in China by trading out worked for it (didn’t hate the board, and did thrash the shit out of it, hitting pretty much every rock of consequence on the Strait of Juan de Fuca and elsewhere) I got my HOBIE, on payments, from ADAM ‘WIPEOUT’ JAMES.

I am not even sure how long I’ve had it, but, at 72 years old, I had planned on it being the last board I will own. BUT, SHIT, MAN, I am not ready to quit, and though one of my friends has offered to loan and/or sell me another SUP, and another, who loaned me one once, has declined to do it again, I EITHER need to fix the HOBIE or get another board. It’s not like I’m poor, BUT…

I was going to say that I might be a perfect representative for all things HOBIE. Yes, Trish keeps me stocked in Hobie gear (after my board destruction, for example, moaning and whimpering, but not crying, I wandered the beach in my new Hobie hoodie); BUT, because my REPUTATION (and I am told I have one) is not as 100% saintly, AND because I’ve spent a lot of verbiage on this subject, I will save it for WEDNESDAY.

MAYBE I WILL write it today, just to make sure I don’t get confused about the days.

ART NEWS ART NEWS ARTNEWS ARTNEWS ARTNEWSARTNEWS ART… NEWS

Original paintings, cards, and prints by ARTIST/SURFER/KITESURFER/SKATER/HOCKEY PLAYER/ETC. STEPHEN R. DAVIS are currently being displayed and available for purchase at MARROWSTONE VINYARDS, Norfland, Washington. If you’re out cruising the Peninsula, or perhaps got skunked trying to surf, or disappointed trying to find snow, check out his stuff.

AGAIN, I should have taken photos when I was, POST DISASTER, hanging out the North by Northwest Surf Shop in Port Angeles. Formerly owned by FRANK CRIPPEN, the shop is now owned by TATE (should learn people’s last names, also) and his wife. With stuff for snow, skate, and surf, there is also work by local artists. Already familiar with work by Nam Siu, Todd Fischer, Reggie Smart, I was VERY IMPRESSED with (original) watercolors by AMY (again, last names). I’ve seen Amy surfing on the Strait for quite a while, do doubt burned her a few times, but, through STU (not to be confused with Mike), I discovered Amy who was watching their child, or child while her husband surfed (with four children running around, it was not clear which one or two was or were theirs) did art. SO, since I couldn’t surf, I went over to talk to her about doing, and SELLING art. My thought was she should also do prints and cards, more opportunity to get surfing related art to the masses.

MORE on all of this next time. THANKS, AS ALWAYS, for reading.

Art for Art’s Sake and Other Issues

Posted on by under Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing, real surfers coloring book, realsurfers illustrations, surf art, surfing art, surfing illustrations, surfing the strait of juan de fuca

These are some recent works I didn’t think I had scanned. OR I believed they were scanned as PDFs, something I couldn’t transfer. I SHOULD, perhaps keep the line drawings for some possible future edition of a realsurfers/original Erwin coloring book, particularly since I may tend to over-color drawings that were, possibly, overdrawn in the first place.

MEANWHILE, I got some bad news on an art project I have been working on; basically, that the process was not set up correctly, paperwork-wise, and when I sent a bill for services (and illustrations) rendered, there were issues.

ISSUES. I HATE ISSUES. If I say getting paid is the reward for my labors; contemplating, sketching, drawing, revising, redrawing; and is temporarily gratifying, the money just a part of a cache and mostly spoken-for dollars, having issues in collecting the reward substantially reduces the JOY.

NOT THAT I don’t enjoy the prospect and the actual work of doing an illustration for some amount of cash. I DO, even as I realize I can make substantially more money per hour scraping and priming and painting someone’s house. AND I do factor in that it is not painting season.  

THIS SETBACK has given me pause to consider (not for the first time) why the hell I insist on pursuing some life outside of the scraping and priming and painting.

SO, I DID what I do; I wrote about it. Not all vitriol and grievance; rather I wrote a piece on how most folks who attempt to be artists want to please an audience.

AS DO I. Though I do want to please myself, with varying degrees of success, AND I have, indeed, accused other writer’s works (well, one writer, I confess) as being masturbatory; everything I write or draw or paint (including houses) is meant to be seen by, and, bottom line, to please the client and potential clients. I must add to this that a job isn’t finished until it is. I throw away so many more drawings than I display, I edit the shit out of things I write, and I go around and around any painting project doing what I call the “Tighten up.”

I realize that sounds, even as I write it, kind of queazy-ness inducing if not outright creepy. This isn’t me VIRTUE-SIGNALLING. No, I would love to be anything close to successful at writing and/or drawing, two things that have been part of my life, on and off, mostly off, almost all my life.

SO, I wrote the not-quite screed, but deciding to listen to Trish, I will wait and see what happens with the project with the issues. Meanwhile, I have other exciting projects/prospects on the ‘possibly fantastic,’ probably not’ scale. I should mention that I am really bad at waiting. If you’ve seen me in the water, you might agree.

BUT NOW, since I’m all calm and resolved, I’ll hit “Save” for the whole thing, stash it away for future check out if not use. Then, I will highlight this part and put it on my (yeah I’m resigned to calling my ‘site’ this) blog.

As my projects get sorted out, I’ll, of course, write about it… here.

AS ALWAYS, thanks for checking this out, and for respecting the copyright ISSUES with any original stuff. Whether I make any money or not from my work, I do reserve all rights to it.

AS FAR AS WAVES on or around the Strait of Juan de Fuca, your guess is as good as mine.

Original Erwin and Erwin Originals

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Erwin Dence illustrations, Erwin Dence surf illustrations, northwest surfing, surf novels, surf posters, surfing art, surfing illustrations, surfing novels, surfing the strait of juan de fuca

I’ve been busy drawing. I have several reasons for doing so. New designs for t shirts, some work for the PORT TOWNSEND PUBLIC LIBRARY’s upcoming SUMMER READ, and, just because I enjoy it.

SO, LET’S SEE HOW MY LATEST scans look on the screen:

THERE ARE MORE, but should save some copyrighted original stuff for next time. WEDNESDAY… MORE! (sorry about the explanation point; not that a show of enthusiasm isn’t appropriate. MEANWHILE, thanks, as always, for checking out realsurfers. See you out on Surf Route 101.

IF I HAVE TO BLAME something for the prolific-ness, it’s the recent far-eeez-ing weather. AND I have been sa-soww-ly getting cal-lose-er finishing my novel, “Swamis.”

!!!

You-Tubing/Dreaming Swamis/Big Waves in General, Full Wetsuits in 63 degree water,

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, northwest surfing, old surfers, real surfers, surf novels, surfing in Washington State, surfing the strait of juan de fuca

This isn’t from the most current big wave event at SWAMIS, but, that doesn’t really matter when it’s the same deal any time the news media (and all your instagram surf-adjacent folks) hypes up an incoming swell; every wannabe hero paddling out at one of the only places one can (easily) make it out in San Diego County on those swells that come down from up here in the Pacific Northwest (just incidentally, totally missing the north shore of the Strait of Juan de Fuca); and… yes, getting out at Swamis is easy; not getting in some other hero’s way as they ride a wave they snaked someone else to get, getting more than three waves in a session, not kooking-it up and crashing on a takeoff with 89 scrappers, 19 actual rippers, and five videographers, 105 cell phone or actual cameras, and all the eyes of a bluff and stairway full of tourists and surfers who claim they got the sickest wave ever (or plan to, once they wax up and have another hit or sip… all trained on you. YOU. You.

Don’t blow it.

Damn! FELL OFF AFTER THE DROP!

YES, I have my own not-quite-a-hero stories; already shared. For years. Swamis, Windansea, Sunset Cliffs, Cardiff, Upper Trestles, La Jolla Cove; pretty much the other accessible spots on big days.

AND

But now, leeward of the swell, I just might have overdosed, self-medicating in the long nights of this amazingly warm winter (not arguing global warming while trying not to sound like I’m indulging in geezer-talk, but 50 degrees plus on any December day; not what it was when we moved up here in 1978, haven’t scraped ice in a while) by watching waves and wave riding on YouTube: Some amazing rides among so much disappointingly bad surfing, almost all of the scare-factor coming from the crowds rather than the waves.

Raw footage? No. Please edit the shit out of whatever you put out there.

I do have a few ISSUES, other than the oversold clickbait headlines/come ons, “20-25 foot Blacks,” for example. I only sometimes appreciate the ‘here I am getting a parking spot, here I am putting on my full wetsuit, booties, gloves, hood, floatation vest, compass.” behind or near the camera commentary, having heard enough “Sick,” “Rad,” “Oh no!” “Come out!” “Kook burned the other kook!” “Look at that one!” “Shit; broke his board and didn’t even make it out!” “Can we get pizza, Daddy!” Yeah, I’m looking, but I frequently fast forward and I almost always turn down the volume on the background music/rap.

HERE IS A QUESTION I felt compelled to text-ask of Trisha’s (and, by marriage, my) nephew, DYLAN SCOTT: Okay, two questions: Are you getting any of those waves? Why the hell are surfers wearing so much gear when the water temperature (I checked) at La Jolla Shores (where he lives) is 62.6 degrees. “WHY, back in my day, water got to 58, you put on your short john and…” Dylan did text back a ‘YES,’ and that it is a bit of overdressing, though he has become fond of booties.

ME, TOO; ever since that time at SEASIDE (not the one in Solana Beach, though I have surfed there) when I got bullheads in my feet walking up toward the… the cove. Wheww, almost said too much.

All this SCREEN SURFING may have affected my dreams. YES. So, last night I had this dream… you know how wave height is often compared to multi story buildings? It’s never, “Whoa, the wave was as big as a rambler in a tract out in the valley!” So, someone is giving this woman on a board close to shore shit for getting in the way. I go out (imagine, IF YOU WILL, Nate Florence or JOB with a POV sequence).

WHEN I GET TO THE LINEUP, there’s this multi-story building (imagine the train station at the entrance to Disneyland- I may have been) that is, evidently, a wave. I turn, I paddle; I’m at the peak, ready to drop in from the turret/tower. AND, looking down from something that magically turns back into the biggest wave my mind/memory can muster, I… CHOKE.

THE GOOD NEWS IS no one caught it on camera. It won’t even be one of those shorts that pop up- 29 seconds of dude who shouldn’t have been out considering the multi-story conditions.

THAT’S MY STORY. Hopefully, in the coming year, you’ll have moments and sessions worth remembering; and, sure, hopefully you have many from this year.

I do hate to mention how close I am to totally finishing the manuscript for “SWAMIS.” I am culturally bound not to say too much about when and where I have surfed recently, or where and when I plan to attempt to find waves next. So, I won’t.

Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR to all the real surfers! Yes, I am including kooks and posers and hodads and, of course, geezers. I do plan on posting some new click-worthy stuff on Wednesday. Thanks for reading.

“It’s Always a Full Moon, Drucilla”

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, northwest surfing, real surfers, surf addiction, surf adventures, surf stories, surfing the strait of juan de fuca

It’s almost a joke between my daughter, DRUCILLA (Dru), and me, that, any time there’s a moon on a movie or advertisement, it is always a full moon.

THE MOON, of course, isn’t a joke. There’s the tides affected by its gravitational pull; important to a surfer, and there is the LUNACY (Moonacy in English, perhaps) caused by the LUNA BELLA, the beautiful moon. And werewolves, of course.

There are ancient PAGAN RITUALS playing homage to the sphere, and, of course non-pagan references such as God giving us “The moon and stars to rule by night…” King James Version, Psalm 136:9.

SPEAKING of pagan-stuff, someone taught TRISH a most-certainly (or not) pagan ritual in which one holds out an open purse or wallet to the full moon and chants (maybe it’s just ‘says’ if it isn’t, like, repeated), “Oh moon, moon, beautiful moon… fill ‘er up, fill ‘er up, fill ‘er up.”

Now, the use of “filling ‘er up” kind of suggests a bit of loosening or democratization or cheapening of some sort of rule- doesn’t bother me one bit.

The followup, with the proper move probably being closing one’s wallet or purse, is to say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Three times; kind of a chant.

THE THING WITH RITUALS of any sort is that, if you connect things that went right for you since the last full moon to the practice, it is almost frightening to miss an opportunity.

THIS PHOTO, the full moon rising over Mount Baker, is quite similar to what I witnessed late (like 4:20- no snide allusion intended) yesterday, though, season and location (I was probably farther out on the Strait, the moon was on the other shoulder of the mountain) were most likely different. And, before the moon got lost in the clouds, with an almost visible trail of light under it, the rising was spectacular.

THIS PHOTO, most likely taken from Kitsap County, has the moon setting over the Olympics. I live, probably, on the far right side of the image, between the dark line of the Coyle Peninsula and the ragged edge of the mountains, SURF ROUTE 101 and my place following the bluffs along the Hood Canal, and, heading north, along the beds of ancient fjords, around a couple of bays and… out, north and northwest.

On a recent surf attempt/trip, after witnessing the full moon rising in a clear cold sky the night before, I felt entirely privileged to see the moon in the high trees as I loaded up pre-dawn, and some sightings of the orb as I headed out. I lost it up by the Casino. Damn the luck!

IF YOU ARE A REAL SURFER, you have, I would tend to believe, a certain reverence for and appreciation of the beauty we witness: Sun, clouds, waves from glassy to blown out; but, if you’re a non-surfer, witnessing just how rattled and jazzed and stoked and electrified and excited a surfer can get about even the possibility of decent waves… well, yes, those surfers must be and are, indeed, LUNATICS.

IF YOU MISSED the opportunity last night, I think it’s acceptable to do the little chant tonight also. I have been known to take the full moon time period as it is in the Werewolf canon; three days. Yeah, it is kind of like hedging your bet. THANK YOU, thank you, thank you!

I may actually have some time to finish the manuscript for “Swamis.” I was hoping to have the many-ist edit done by Christmas (last Christmas, the one before that); so, maybe, by New Years. I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, good luck; I’ll be posting on SUNDAY. Oh, and “GO HAWKS!”

The Day After Sunday, and…

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, northwest surfing, old surfers, Original Erwin t-shirts, real surfers, surf illustrations, surfing in Washington State, surfing the strait of juan de fuca

…I do try to keep to some sort of schedule. I have been trying to have potential and actual readers ready for new posts on Sundays and Wednesdays, it’s just that… no, no excuses.

There is an old saying: “Never complain, never explain.” Since I constantly do the first, I should be willing to do the other. I’ve been trying to make up for the time (and money) lost during my recent power surge/outage. I’m still working on figuring out… things.

I did work on my manuscript for “SWAMIS” during my down time, the generator churning outside; picturing the starving artist alone in some freezing Paris garret, desperately trying to make those subtle adjustments that will bring… heat, light, shit like that.

So, power back on, off to do the work that actually pays the bills. Out of town job. While waiting for a submarine (maybe, couldn’t see) to go through the Hood Canal Bridge (forty minute delay in this case), I actually made a list of what changes I need to make to my novel in order for it to make sense, story wise.

BUT, FIRST, because I’m changing the ending a bit, and I’m never quite sure if I might make more changes mid chapter (of course I will), I must write the last seven pages. THEN go back.

I also have been working on some drawings. I will put one of several possible ORIGINAL ERWIN t shirt designs, and a sort of redo of a little cove/point, with some added, never-happen-in-real-life waves:

Please overlook or forgive my lack of scanning skills. “I’m here to surf” is pretty much my motto. I do have some other designs. If I am going to inv.est in making another run of ORIGINAL ERWIN shirts (and, if you own one… it’s a VERY LIMITED item), I want them to be as good as the ones I’ve already done.

I do plan on going to a print shop this afternoon, and, if I don’t post anything else, I will put up some new illustrations.

MEANWHILE, I’m putting out local surf-related gossip, spreading rumors, trying to verify other things I’ve heard, lots of surfers coming over to the Peninsula and getting skunked is a common one. Very common.

OH, AND I’m also working on a possible shirt design for Washington State’s WEST END. It seems like, out on the rugged coast (and, for some reason, locals don’t seem to include fan favorites HOBUCK and WESTPORT) are not all that enthusiastic about folks cruising in from, you know, non-west. I’m not really involved in this- Yes, I did once try to surf Ruby Beach (so many logs, so many rocks), and yes, I did have a logger/surfer, years ago (late 80s), when I was out at Kalaloch, three children with me, trying to find some gems I could surf as practice for the RICKY YOUNG WESTPORT LONGBOARD CONTEST; tell me where I could find an accessible almost-point break; but, other than a few trips to the cove of vampires, I try to contain myself to the north(er) zone.

SO, self-promoting a bit, do check in on realsurfers.net occasionally, like, just to make sure, hit on it on THURSDAY.

AS ALWAYS, get some waves when you can.

Extra Erwin- Power Update

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, northwest surfing, real surfers

Ikeep telling myself I need, NEED to take more photos. And then I don’t. I don’t have any photos of the four young dudes from JEFFERSON COUNTY PUD who showed up in two big rigs to check out my power pole, their interest extending to the wire and components on their side of the power pole halfway (about 200 feet) down my driveway.

“Four guys?” “Sometime we have eight.”

SO, this was Monday, and the power flash happened very early last Wednesday. SO, that many days of running on a generator. Unsustainable. Way too much noise, inconvenience, MONEY, too many trips to the QUILCENE VILLAGE STORE (luckily only about a mile away) to fill gas cans at, fortunately, better per gallon prices (10 cent discount per gallon for cash) than elsewhere in the vicinity (Chimacum the next closest fuel). BUT, I have learned to pour the gas with minimal splash/waste.

I MUST give thanks to RON REED, an electrical contractor I recently did some work for. He called me back after a novel-length text, agreed that calling the PUD should be my next step. “Then we’ll see. It could just be a loose wire on their end.” “But, I mean, does that… happen?” “More often than you might think.” “Okay.” I had, at this point, already called them, left a message. It was about ten minutes after talking to Ron that a woman, formerly of Quilcene, called me back. “Do they have my phone number?” “I put it in the notes.” “Thanks.”

Just to be helpful, I went down, cleared some blackberry vines away from the area around the pole, and, having told others, including Trish, including myself that I wouldn’t, I looked into the electric box below the meter head. It seemed pretty normal. There were two big ass fuses. Hmmm. Since I had to get more gas and check the mail, I cruised into the local, independant HENERY’S HARDWARE. I talked to LEONARD. “No, don’t have any.” “Shit.” When I pulled up to the end of the driveway, talking to TRISH on the phone (luckily, still hanging at DRU’S place), telling her that, because we, at her urging, had paid a little extra to the IRS, we had received an official letter that, paraphrased, said, “Let’s call it even.” This was amusing, more to me.

THAT’S when the PUD showed up.

This is the burned connection on the neutral line.

The connection was replaced, they checked out the fuses I couldn’t replace without getting them, and scheduling an outage. They were fine. “Go see if this did the trick.” I did. It did. Mostly. I undoubtedly have issues to sort out, but things are working. When I got back to the crew, I shook each member’s hand, said I was as close to crying as I had been in the previous five days (I didn’t- almost), and, of course, asked if any of them SURFED. None did. “Good; we have enough surfers.”

ANOTHER sort of plus: I spent some of my time, in my under-heated living room, working on getting to the end of “SWAMIS.” I have managed to keep it to just over 100,000 words (yeah, that is longer than this post) and I am down to the last seven pages. I can imagine how to make the finale better when I go to work. WORK. Yeah. And I feel grateful to have it.

AS FAR AS SURF, it’s not like I hope there is none if I can’t go, and I do try, and fail, to think about what I might be missing while I am missing it, but… consider even really big but really south swells and their relationship to the mean direction of the Strait of Juan de Fuca; it might save you a skunking. And, as always, figuring out waves, finding that moment at that spot is, like electrical issues, is, possibly, more like… magic.

GOOD LUCK. POWER to All the people!