Category Archives: old surfers

Surf Dreams and Other, Non-Surf Dreams

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

Since I’ve been hearing about other people’s surf experiences more than enjoying the planning and anticipation, the search, the wait, the finding and enjoying a session way better or less better than imagined; the chance to be the one bragging, gloating about, or merely and factually reporting on the score; all o which means. I’m dreaming more than realizing, I think I should add a page for dreams; a dream journal if you will. I you won’t, I still will.

I’ve had so many dreams in which I am frustrated in getting to the beach. Normal, I guess. I have had numerous dreams in which I’m driving through woods and swamps on crappy, one lane roads, only to get to a section that is. impassible or requires driving over a log bridge. Imagine 112 anywhere west of Joyce. I had two of these category dreams last night, sort of connected. In the first, there’s a giant cement structure to my left, with, some unseen shotgun rider explaining the surf, also unseen, is on the other side. “Keep driving.” Ine second. dream, I’m trying to pull into a muddy, dark road, and there are headlights coming down and around a corner. Lots of speeding vehicles. I gun it, the copilot screaming, go up and around a corner, and… and, and, there’s a school bus, red lights on. Stopped.

Wake up.

I do self analyze the dreams before they vanish like morning mist. Yeah. Fucked up. I’ll keep my assessments semi confidential. YOU’RE WELCOME.

BUT, here’s my inaugural piece: II can explain, sort of, the line throughs: I was using a different computer, tried to save it to a thumb drive, and then, out of nowhere…

IN DREAMS

  In dreams, it seems, we are attacked by the monsters we blink away when we are awake. Dream demons come from the shadows, from the hidden spaces, the windowless rooms, the caverns and the taverns, the back offices; they emerge from the deep woods, the grown over pools, the  long and lonesome highways, places we know they inhabit; but the dream dwellers also appear at the laundromat, at the market; grinning ghouls, leering carnies, hawkers and grifters, preachers and politicians, and… most frightening, we are joined, greeted, casually, in some public place, by people we no longer know, people long deceased.

These specters are not frightened; we should be. We are the strangers in this realm, dropping in and shaking ourselves out.

Alternate world, or overlapping orbit, or separate track in our overwhelmed brains, we are told that dreams give us the opportunity to work out problems our conscious minds cannot. Work out, possibly; solve, probably not.

In dreams, we sometimes believe we have solved… something; only to realize, as the gauze and the glisten vanish, that the shadows are still occupied, our problems are still real. And, in the open, in the light, one terror remains; some thought that something so disturbing, so contrary to our daytime logic, is real.

I do, in real life, have a barn. We once, years ago, had pigs. It is not true that we have pigs in the barn, hungry, squealing; it just, sometimes, in a certain half-light, half awake, not fighting other ghosts, seems as if they are real and squealing for me. And I had better hurry.

My novel, “SWAMIS” is done and I have done nothing toward selling it, but I will. I mean, it’s been years getting to this point. PUBLISHERS, AGENTS, and, really, anyone who wants to reach out on surf or any related issues, it’s erwin@realsurfers.net Not editors for hire, however. No offense.

I do, occasionally, put out stuff on YouTube. realsurfersdotnet I DO SPEND/WASTE too much. time on the site, meaning, yes, I like and comment, and then. look if I get a response. Because I do, my commentary obviously. clever, I. spend/waste more time. Or maybe. it’s spend/waste/invest time.

TRISH UPDATE: 21 days in the hospital, she’s back at our daughter’s (DRU) house, slowly, slowly, eveer so slowly getting better. There’s a formula for how much time it takes to recover from hospital stays. It’s more than one to one. AND I’ve been told to be patient. Numerous times by numerous folks, Trish foremost among them. Trish is determined. I’m optimistic, I’m ust not all that… patient.

I ALSO need to do a page of my art stuff. Yeah, yeah, I will. Soon. Really. Patience.

Thanks for checking out realsurfers; hope you overcome the obstacles and get some tube time.

Lots of Photos, Some Explanations

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

CHRIS and MEGAN

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Actual text from Chris after the surf/yoga/actual honeymoon to some resort-like place in Central America: “Okay, here’s your dispatch from the field. The crowds you feared are a non-issue. I’ve had multiple solo sessions and only one with more than 5 others. The biggest issue with locals was the crocodile that was in the lineup two mornings in a row. I surfed 20 sessions across 4 spots, including some epic ones that involve a hike in. Lots of great wildlife, as expected, including a sea turtle hatch and lots of loud monkeys right outside the window. I did not see anyone SUP surfing on their knees- those niches remain open here. There were people taking lessons out front, but they were not in the way, and they were fun people. The waves were pretty big for part of the trip, so they mostly went to mellower beaches elsewhere. I did have a chance to meet the local version of Keith, who takes it to another level and sleeps in a hammock on the beach. He tends to the local turtle nursery rather than a library. The local Erwin is an opining yoga instructor who paints sunsets. All in all, a great trip, and looking forward to getting back in the water with the PT gang.”

Gang is right, from what I hear. It must have been in conversation, maybe in person, that, both of them being marine scientists, Megan was especially excited about a sea turtle hatching while they were there.

Speaking of KEITH; a flyer for the library featuring him, a photo of an above-average day on the Strait, newly painted rails on a board he got from JOEL CARBEN (also provided/sold Chris some snorkel fins that came in handy down central), a slightly out of focus ORCA checking the surf, and a flyer for Reggie. No phone nNot that hard to find.

I’m not allowed to post any photos of TRISH. I am putting this together in her room at SAINT MICHAEL. She is very committed to getting the hell out of here. Friday for almost sure. The farther we get from the original admittance, the more we (especially our daughter DRU and I) realize how dire her condition was when she was admitted.

The view from the ICU is the worst. Most views include the Olympics. Speaking of mountains, SHORTBOARD AARON LENNOX, surfer, climber, professional rope worker, has been doing some work, or having some scary fun, or both, near this top secret location.

Just to round this all out, the photo above, on the Olympic Peninsula, was taken by ARLENE OPTINERIO. And here is a shot of the rig ADAM WIPEOUT JAMES IS ‘practically giving me’ to replace my much-loved VOLVO (I do plan on getting it fixed). It’s a stealthy WINDSTAR that once belonged to CLINT THOMPSON, who also owned most of the used surfboards now owned by others hereabouts. IF I haven’t dropped your name here, send some photos, artwork, stories to erwin@realsurfers.net and I’ll give you the same amount I gave Chris. That and the knowledge that tens of real surfers, worldwide, are checking it out and scrolling on.

I have some other projects in the works, and, a reminder, “SWAMIS” IS DONE, MAN, and I need an agent, producer, publisher.

ALSO check me on INSTAGRAM, realsurfersdotnet AND check out the other pages here. AND surf when you get the chance, work toward having more chances.

Excuses and Explanations

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

I do have some content in the works. I’ve been kind of… No, I don’t like excuses. You don’t need explanations.

As an update, TRISH is ready to get the hell out of the hospital. Her numbers are all getting back to the normal pre-cancer, pre-chemo, pre-radiation levels, and she is ever more determined, Again and always, fuck cancer! She is, finally, getting stronger. We can now see how critical her situation was.

I do need an agent and. publisher for my *COMPLETED novel, “SWAMIS.”

*OF COURSE I want to do just a couple of minor tweaks, not that. I’m, like, overly anal retentive. IF YOU WANT IN on this, contact me, erwin@realsurfers.net Or for any other surf related beef or content or submissions of stuff you want posted for free for my small but worldwide audience.

Meanwhile, I am putting art and music on Instagram at realsurfersdotnet and doing way too much commenting on other people’s stuff. Because I care. I have a new poem, “VISCOUS,” on PAGE III. I am considering adding another. page for original artwork. Not yet. I will let you know.

I DID WATCH quite a bit of the most recent WSL event. Two things: This surf competition is BRUTAL! STEPHANIE GILMORE is the QUEEN, and, evidence seems to show, she seems to know how to celebrate.

SAN CLEMENTE, CALIFORNIA – SEPTEMBER 8: Seven-time WSL Champion Stephanie Gilmore of Australia after winning the World Title at the Rip Curl WSL Finals on September 8, 2022 at San Clemente, California. (Photo by Pat Nolan/World Surf League)

Different contest, same winner. Thanks for checking out realsurfers.

Editing Surf Stories (Other people’s

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

I have some surf related and surf adjacent (love that adjacent is a thing, and, why not? Surf curious) content to share. Not immediately. Soon. I got a big multi activity dump from Adam “coolest dad e-ver) Wipe out while Joel Carbon and I were over a working land to Whidbey Island, ferry waiting, ferry missing, watching the Mariners win one on Joel’s phone, texting with legendary surf writer, editor, Drew Kampion (also must have quote for my novel when it’s published). On our previous jaunt, we spoke with Drew, learned about spots that may or may not ever have waves. Oh, and we talked and texted with Adam. Hence the pics and vids of all the action he and his kids engage in (hunting, fishing, shooting, motorcycle shit, ski trips, building off road tracked vehicles, encountering Bigfoot; all the stuff folks down 101 near Pillows up (sp?) get up to. Oh, and I took a call from Northwest surf pathfinder Tom Burns, on speaker, allowing Tom to now be Joel’s friend, also.

Oh, and I got a report this morning from Chris Eardley. He and his wife, Megan, have been on a surf/yoga retreat/adventure to Nica-costa-dore (don’t want to blow up the location). Photos AND exclusive commentary.

All coming soon! Just, I am at a semi secret spot, and working off my tablet. It’s a different story. Mostly I seem to be editing other people’s tales.

That doesn’t mean I am not surf curious. Later.

“Even the President of the United States Sometimes Must Have to Stand Naked.” Dylan. “If I was the King of the Forest.” Cowardly Lion in “The Wizard of Oz.” “And could we, in this Constitution, perchance, add the phrase, ‘Fuck a bunch of fucking Kings?'” Benny Franklin.

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

It’s NO KINGS Day! Got any plans?

“YEAH; NO KINGS !”A photo from Desert Point. DISCLAIMER- Not sure of the circumstance. Maybe it was payback, maybe this guy enjoys a party wave more than the GOAT. Now, I am not in any way pushing for drop-ins of the punitive nature, particularly by newby shoulder hoppers, but… sometimes… I don’t know, maybe Kelly wasn’t adhering to a priority system lesser mortals are expected to adhere to. I get that. OH, and… the dude down the line is probably causing a chandelier situation, so… fun.

Too much to unpack here. A bigger board doesn’t make one Kinglier, evidently. Is the one guy trying to party down? Is the scrapper about to get run down? Is this wave kind of… weak? Is the Dude in the Waikiki pose, obviously trying to remember step number three (Don’t pearl)? Is he wearing a spring suit, with hood, And a knee brace? Is the Dude in the ‘I’m driving down the line’ pose actively reconsidering his latest switch from crypto to betting on how many American service people will be dead or wounded in the latest War/escapade/evasion? Which way is the guy immediately outside the wave looking? Is the guy who is watching thankful he didn’t go on this wave? Is there surf in Cuba? Is stupid catchy? Are there any people in Congress with any integrity (I have my list of more or totally courageous folks, it’s America, you are still free to chose yours)?

GEORGE WASHINGTON, ‘PRESIDING’ at the Constitutional Convention, May of 1787, sending out some gang signs to the other old, bewigged, most-likely slave-owning white men. Loosely translated, it was, “If we play our cards right, this experiment might last, I postulate and do herein claim, two-hundred-and-fifty years; perhaps more. And if some charlatan/montebank/swindler/huckster even attempts to become a, dare I say, King; the PEOPLE will not stand for this brazen effrontery. Congress and the Courts will live up to their sworn vows, perform their sacred duties. The People, I tell you, will, shall, must PREVAIL! And now… now; I hear there’s a buffet. Line forms to the left. Let’s GO!

Some (not all) credits- History.com, El Pais in English, Pittsburg Gazette- from today

I keep putting off what I keep telling myself I will write about: How snow activities are so much better than surfing. Now, with the last ski bus heading to the Cascades for the last of the snow, it’s almost too late. Still, it’s coming. Soon.

CONTACT erwin@realsurfers.net

I have promised myself I will put in some time on finishing my novel, “Swamis.” I keep coming up with new ideas for the story’s climax.

HOW MY BRAIN WORKS (OR DOESN’T)- Earlier today, scrolling on the YouTube, I saw something explaining people who can’t remember other people’s name (but, saving grace, remember stories involving that person, or, in my case, nicknames). Okay. So I’m writing the paragraph immediately above this one, and I can’t think of word for the ending of a novel. CONCLUSION? Maybe, but there’s no way “Swamis” is going to end with anything less than a cliffhanger. Next novel? “Grandview.” I look conclusion up. Not exactly right. I’m thinking, “What’s a word that is a synonym for orgasm?” I look up ORGASM. Climax is a choice. I look up CLIMAX. One choice of definitions in Merriam-Webster mentioned a series of phrases or sentences in ascending order of rhetorical forcefullness. “Oh, so it’s like the third wave of a four wave set.” Yeah. That. That’s where I want the ending of my novel to be.

We’ll see. I posted another Original Erwin song, with harmonica, on the Instagram. Check out REALSURFERSDOTNET to see and hear my third or fouth attempt to do a one take version of “Before the Wind Comes Up.” I am going to try to do a decent version of “Another Lie, Another War.” I will let you know. Surf if you can, Snow it up while you can. FUCK CANCER! FUCK A BUNCH OF. FASCISTS! Thanks for checking out realsurfers.net

Waiting Room Sketches

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

TRISH is undergoing radiation as part of the treatment for breast cancer. It is not fun. 21 trips to SAINT MICHAEL in Silverdale. Four have been completed. We are so very fortunate for the help of our daughter, DRU. She is, well, essential to this process. Since I am not needed or wanted in the rooms where Trish is being tortured, I have some time to… yeah, draw.

Not as much as I might want if I’m really into something, but enough to do some sketches. SKETCHES. I once took some (too much) offense when a surfer introduced me to his girlfriend as, “You know, he does t-shirts, and has that blog. I showed you.” “OH,” she said, “I really like some of your sketches.”

SO, yeah; thanks; these are sketches;

Port Townsend surfer/librarian Keith Darrock and I have not gotten it totally together in organizing the next OCCASIONAL SURF CULTURE ON THE STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA EVENT. However, it will be centered on the connection between surf and music, with, of course, surf artists and storytellers, as well as PETE RAAB, expert in all the background, history, and wonder of surf music. The event will be part of the summer library lineup, and… and we better get to work jockeying for position. This sketch probably won’t be part of the poster. SKETCH. We’ll see.

THIS SKETCH probably should be on PAGE II, NON-POLITICAL ERWIN. But here it is. Having been raised to be anti-war, and having studied enough of pasts wars, there seems to be a pattern in that some are sold with near-truths and some with outright lies. There are aggressors and defenders. There have been some shenanigans, such as one side claiming to be in the midst of negotiations and then… attacking. Infamy. And, of course, no war is complete without WAR CRIMES.

SHIT, now I’m going. If we don’t focus on the body count per acre of a war for land, or try to divine the math behind the cost in money and, yes, lives, of a blood for oil campaign; if we discount the suffering of the dispossessed and the seekers of refuge; turn away from scant news of scorched earth tactics; pretend ignorance of or an inability to imagine humans being capable of reported and, yes unimaginably inhuman, brutality; perhaps we know someone who served, survived, and is living with the consequences of ventures into man’s most telling feature; war.

I claim no one else’s valor. I got lucky, had a high draft number, missed out on my generation’s conflict. In a twist of fate, I was hired on to work for the U.S. Navy as a journeyman painter in 1971. Twenty years-old. Almost all the oldtimers were veterans of World War II. They had stories they weren’t keen on sharing with a punk ass, non-vet surfer, but, maybe on a payday afternoon, stories would be shared. I would listen. If painters are characterized as drunks, add a veteran who was under twenty years old at D Day, or Guadalcanal (my father and my father-in-law both served in the Marines, WWII and Korea), or an Irishman (“Don’t call me British”) who served with the British in North Africa, or a soldier who was there for the liberation of Nazi (still a dirty word to me) death camps; yes, I heard stories. I saw men damaged by what they saw and what they did.

Then there were the incoming Apprentice Painters. Vietnam vets. Some, no doubt gung ho at one time, were disenchanted. I would say most. Some were, whether they admitted it or not, broken. Spirit gone. For several in my time with the Navy including working on ships at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, their mental brokenness, while they were otherwise healthy, seems to have led to their deaths.

And now, forgive me, I’m thinking about two other stories. One guy thought he was fooling the government because they believed he had PTSD. He totally did. Though he seemed to trust me, I knew enough to not even come close to walking behind him. The second guy had been an officer, planned on getting enough knowledge of painting to go out on his own as a contractor. One day at lunch he announced to the crew that he had no trouble killing. “I could blow any of you away and go on eating.” “Well,” I said, “Would you mind eating somewhere else?”

My father, when presented with stories in the news (or movies that didn’t agree with his stance that he and those he served with served America, justly), told me that a lot of bad stuff happens. “You just have to live with it.”

I’m working on a song on this theme. Originally I was thinking of something to fit with the tune to “Makin’ Whoopee,” more recently (and not like recently recently- 1961) known as a theme for Pepsi commercials. “Now it’s Pepsi, for those who think young.” I DID, of course, get carried away. Doesn’t fit the tune.

Another lie, another war, One can’t help but wonder what we’re killing people for;

Another war, another lie, an eye for an eye for an eye for an eye; One has to wonder, has to wonder, has to wonder… why.

AS FAR AS NON-POLITICAL ERWIN, I’m thinking of this: REAL MEN DON’T HEGSETH!

I DO claim all rights to original sketches, and writing on realsurfers.net.

Contact me at erwin@realsurfers.net

The time I spent on this could have gone to my novel, “Swamis.” I did put in an hour or so, and I am on page 210 of 227. BIG FINISH! To be continued. Thanks for checking out realsurfers. If you like snow, better get on it! As far as surf… hmmm

How’s Your Week Going? Words, photos, stories

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, adam wipeout, northwest surfing, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf fiction, surfing blogs, surfing the strait of juan de fuca, Uncategorized, writings of Erwin Dence

Here is another example of why I should be ready to take photos with my camera: I was in my last surviving vehicle at a parking lot that faces the Strait. There were no waves, but there was cell phone coverage. I may have been feeling particularly down, not to panic-depression levels; but, having lived a large chunk of my life on the edge (my choice to be a self-employed painter in the Northwest), and sharing with some unknown but large portion of the citizenry the pain of war and suddenly crazy gas prices, and, perhaps some lack of real confidence in our leaders…

Anyway, I see this old person (I’m guessing a man) being led by a younger, taller, person down the easiest incline from the parking lot to the narrow stretch of beach. My thought is he wanted to see the ocean, that perhaps he hadn’t seen it in a while, perhaps, even, he had some fear he might not have another opportunity. I don’t know; I make up stories.

He shuffles out. There’s a slight but cold west wind. There are rocks and driftwood and kelp to navigate. He did not last long. I imagined him saying to his companion, coming back up the berm, “Yeah; just like I remembered it.”

Close as I could get, image-wise. Borrowed from ruveyda

A screen tracks trading on the floor at the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE) after the closing bell in New York City, U.S., April 4, 2025. REUTERS/Brendan McDermid

I should apologize for not putting this on NON-POLITICAL ERWIN. No. On a more personal note:

There is, of course a story. SO, top to bottom: After several issues with the VOLVO, alternately known as the “Super Fun Car,” I managed to get it to 200,000 miles (note the crustiness of the steering column and the harmonicas). NEXT, Dru’s house in Port Gamble is a stopping off point for Canadian Geese (note the shadows of the Volvo, with surfboard, and me). NEXT, Full moon, or fullish, last Monday night (note Dru’s new car, replacement for Honda attacked by mutant deer). NEXT, Dru’s cat, Nicholas, and the very rich cake Dru made for her lifetime friend, Mollie Orbea (who lives down the street).

BEFORE I get to the bottom shot, my work van being towed (for the many-ith time) from the parking area at Highway 104 and Center Road, I will enlighten you on the latest wound to the Volvo. YES, as in every movie that shows the moon, it was full. And it was Mollie’s birthday. And, because TRISH is recovering from Chemotherapy very very slowly, I was sent to represent. Also, I did not have my hearing aids with me. Awkward in any social situation, forcing kids and grownups to yell and/or repeat is… rude. At least. BUT, while leaving, I mentioned to Mollie’s husband, Pete, the person who pretty much runs the activities in Port Gamble, AND the person who conducts the ghost tours, that the Volvo reached this milestone. And then, looking for some wood to knock on, I selected a wheel from a ship that was mounted on the wall.

“You should know,” Pete said, “that wheel came from a Japanese vessel sunk in World War II. Now, the ghosts might follow you home.” Maybe they did. It’s about 20 miles, and when I turned into my driveway, the car stalled. And wouldn’t start. Blown head gasket. AVID readers of realsurfers.net might recall that Adam James helped me with using some Blue Devil when the Volvo overheated about twenty or thirty thousand miles ago. Now, according to my mechanical guru, George Takamoto, I will have to replace the headgasket. Not happening immediately, but I do plan on getting it done. AND I thought I was very lucky that the car stopped in my driveway.

Not the same luck two nights later when the gauges stopped working on van.

LIFE is, of course, a combination of good luck, bad luck, and shit we cannot control. I try very hard not to just freak the fuck out. I do have almost enough faith to believe, with the setbacks and traumas and dramas, the cruel, profane wars of choice, the inhumane treatment of those we share this fragile existence with, that there is a reckoning coming, that my complaints are not really significant.

I guess I’m lucky, because I never get the blues; Oh yes, I’m quite lucky, because I never get the blues; Now I might get suspicious, and sometimes I’m anxious, too; I might even get desperate and tear up a thing or two, but I count myself lucky because I Never get the blues.

Please don’t tell me your problems and think that I can relate; I don’t harbor jealousy and I won’t subsidize hate; If you want to complain, you can just go to Helen Waite; Don’t be telling me gossip and acting as if it’s news, ‘Cause I can’t share your problem and I want no part of your blues.

Dream of tomorrow, we sacrifice all our todays; We’re so busy working, we don’t take the time to just play; Though I’m selling my blood just to pay up my union dues; I still count myself lucky because I never get the blues.

My old truck’s still running, My dog didn’t die, Not in love with a woman who told me ‘goodbye,’ And my mama still talks of her baby with pride, And I can’t remember the last time I cried.

But then… I’m lucky, because I never get the blues; Oh yes, I’m quite lucky, because I never get the blues; Yes, sometimes I get angry, and sometimes I’m hurtin’, too; I might even get lonely, but not like most people do; Then again, I’m just lucky; Yes, I count myself lucky; Hell yes, I’m quite lucky because I… never get… the… blues.

Contact- erwin@realsurfersdotnet

All rights reserved for “I Guess I’m Lucky,” Erwin A. Dence, Jr.

THANKS, as always, for checking out my site. Good luck, get some waves.

The Fine Art of Self Aware Sublimation/Repression

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, mind surfing, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf addiction, surf culture, surf fiction, surf novels, surf sessions, surfing blogs, surfing in Washington State, writings of Erwin Dence

My cat, TONY, destroying a corner of my drawing table, and NAM SIU and I (no, not my sprinter van, but, yes, a sprinter van) taken recently. Nam has been recovering from a horrific illness in which he lost a significant percentage of his body fat. When I saw him a while back, I, of course, asked him (in my usual friendly way) if he HAD TO gain it all back and more at one time. I sort forced him to get a photo taken with before he loses the weight, which I have no doubt he will. I have no illness-related explanation of or excuse for my weight-to-head size, BUT, hey, I have to say… yeah, I look pretty good.

Nam’s once and current diet.

UNNECESSARILY DEEP PSYCHOLOGICAL STUFF

Wait! No! The Superbowl was, like, two weeks ago, the next season is… a ways away. The swells from the atmospheric rivers are pumping waves somewhere, but not into the oddly tilted Strait of Juan de Fuca, and the forecast is kind of bleak. What now?

I choose this design by JUNAARTFOUND because the tagline said something about ‘Sublimation.’ This is a word I can never think of when I’m thinking of how we substitute (re-channel is probably more accurate) our own desires (some of which are of a… pardon me… sexual nature) into something else. Like, maybe, sports. There are other outlets for the tensions that, some evidence shows, humans seem to be cursed, or blessed with. Prayer and denial are popular. Repression. Sure. Violence, real or imagined, is, obviously, one way to control or burn our lust, bloodlust or whatever-lust. Video games and John Wick movies; there are choices other than signing up to join ICE

Psychology 101 taught me, if little else, that all lusts seek to eliminate themselves. Hunger-eat, for example. The philosophical followup is that being full, satiated, only lasts so long. There is something that tastes better than a perfect strawberry dipped in dark chocolate. Maybe. There is a wave riding experience beyond the most perfect ride we can remember.

So we continue the search.

AS I WRITE THIS, I’m feeling a bit apologetic for getting too deeply into all this. Too late. We all have tensions and stressors. We all need outlets. I have been accused, at least once, of being repressed. A bit surprising to me since my emotions seem easily read, and I’m also accused of being filterless, of saying what I’m thinking before I think about what I’m saying. YEAH, okay, I’ll say I am. There’s more I don’t say. I have fears that go beyond my family and my friends. Fear leads directly and quickly to anger. I have anger issues stemming from tragedies and horrors I cannot stop, or even lessen. I have also been described as having an inadequate amount of empathy. I have enough to feel for those who do.

I DEVOTE A LOT of my energy to not panicking to not freaking the fuck out.

Writing is one of my de-stressors, a place where I can push my fear of speaking out, the boundaries of my repression, peacefully, knowing that even if I write what I consider the perfect turn of phrase, the perfect rebuttal to those who push the hateful lies and seek protection (or actively protect) from accountability for the most heinous acts, it won’t be enough. I won’t be satisfied for long.

TO BRING THIS BACK to surfing; one of the oft-spoken values is that one can forget everything else and move in the cosmic wonderfulness. FACT CHECK- Yes, this happens. If the goal is to move through the changing crowds and conditions without panicking or freaking the fuck out, and surf until you’re exhausted enough that you don’t care who gets that wave you might have surfed better, congratulations. If you got a ride to put into your near-perfect file… that’s probably as good as it gets.

CONTACT- erwin@realsurfers.net

INSTAGRAM (mostly original songs with harmonica)- realsurfersdotnet

THE video, “ERWIN” is now on my ABOUT page. If you haven’t seen it… check it out.

‘SWAMIS’ UPDATE- I’m up to, like, page 200, of 226, on what I hope to be my final edit before someone has the good sense to publish the novel.

PAGE II- NON-POLITICAL ERWIN. There is an update concerning why anyone would feel compelled to give a shit about kid rock.

THANKS for checking out my blog. See out on SURF ROUTE 101.

Superbowl Rehash/Recovery/Convalescence and…

Posted on by under northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf culture, surf culture events, surfing blogs, surfing Southern California in the 60s, Uncategorized, writings of Erwin Dence

Me, with hearing aids, and Dru’s ginger cat, NICHOLAS, aka Sam Darnold.

DYLAN SCOTT, the son of TRISHA’S brother and his wife, JIM and GREER (note how inclusively proper I’m being), sent me this shot of him surfing at a spot he (and SURFLINE, to whom [whom because corporations are people, too] he pays a possibly significant monthly fee) identify as “GEORGE’S.

It is obvious, at 9:53 or so on SUPERBOWL SUNDAY, that goofyfoot Dylan has the green light in his favor as well as a reduced crowd because all the North San Diego County surf enthusiasts were, no doubt, pulling avocados off the trees to prepare a satisfying snack. WHAT wasn’t obvious to me, when I was checking out the photo on the phone, in bed (after a game that was probably boring [other than the half time show] for everyone who wasn’t a SEAHAWKS or, you know that other team fan, with us [Seahawks fans] absolutely riveted/worried, clutching our skittles, and oysters, and rosary beads, and listening to STEVE RAIBLE and DAVE WYMAN on the radio because we just don’t trust or like commentary from CHRIS COLLINGSWORTH)… exhausting… what wasn’t obvious to me was, where the hell is George’s. SO, I texted Dylan.

Evidently George’s is on the section of beach between CARDIFF REEF and SEASIDE TRAILER REEF, both of which, according to my research on the GRAM, were going off on this day. SO, I had to do more texting, the you-really-don’t-want-to-hear “Back in my day” stories, bearing in mind that I started surfing the North County beaches beyond Oceanside Pier and Tamarack in 1965, and left the area in late 1978. “Just in time” you might say. “Yes. I hear it has become more crowded.”

SO, Dylan, ya see, that part of the beach, in the mid seventies, when I lived in Encinitas, was called STRETCHMARK BEACH. This was, according to the hipster who hipped me to it, because, paraphrasing here, “Surf chicks who, like, had babies, they would take them there rather than, you know, other spots.” However rude and inappropriate, I stand by the previous name.

Continuing the ‘my day’ stuff, before my day, there was a pier in Cardiff, and, when I moved to the Great Pacific Northwest, SEASIDE TRAILER PARK was not yet a parking lot. AND, and, yes, I did once surf there, on a Sunday afternoon, with DONALD TAKAYAMA the only other surfer in the water.

NOT bragging, but grateful.

“ERWIN” THE MOVIE news:

Not sure this will work. I have the cheapest WordPress account, and didn’t think I could have videos. I ran into JASON QUEEN, both of us getting skunked. He stumbled onto the beach and into this video by Annie Fergerson. The link I previously posted no longer works. Possibly because the video was picked up and shown as part of the PORT TOWNSEND FILM FESTIVAL and was part of the worldwide SAVE THE WAVES festivals, Jason seemed to believe there is some fame attached to being in it. YES, there is now a sub-genre of videos featuring old surfers still at it, but, no, I don’t seem to have any lingering side effects of my notoriety.

All I was really trying to do was post the link. If you haven’t seen this, yes, I do realize there’s a bit of comic relief here, and, yes and again, I do realize my level of ridiculousness. I just keep trying to rise above it. OR, maybe it’s part of my evil scheme to get a few more waves in a crowd.

GRIPES AND HYPES, and any comments, write me at erwin@realsurfers.net

INSTAGRAM ME- realsurfersdotnet

HEY, if I can, indeed, post videos, I might try putting up another page with some MUSICAL ERWIN stuff. FUN. Hope you’re getting enough waves that you won’t be there when I go the next time. Nothing personal. HAPPY VALENTINES DAY to those I love, and to all lovers. HAPPY HATERS’ DAY (whenever that is- seems to be most days) to all the haters.

There is no top to love short of heaven, no bottom to hate. The difference between love and hate is the difference between flying and falling. It’s where you land. Oh, yes, and how you land.

Triple Win… Perhaps, and (Some) Credit to San Francisco 49ers and LA Rams

Posted on by under Erwin Dence surf illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf illustrations, surf novels, surfing illustrations, writings of Erwin Dence

After a session at a spot on the Olympic Peninsula coast, RICO MOORE, watching (or taking over) someone else’s fire, took the photo of KEITH DARROCK coming in. I ‘borrowed’ and posted it. THEN I did a black and white drawing. (obviously not, like, traced), made a copy of it, colored it in. Not satisfied, I made a copy of that so I could add more ink. Then… fattened up the borders. SO, multiple credit. YES, I will offer Rico a copy. And then… I might go back, turn it into more of a poster look.

Nothing is ever really finished.

The SUPERBOWL is (maybe you heard) coming up, and our (funny how and when we claim ownership of teams we in no way own) SEATTLE SEAHAWKS are up against the NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS (not arguing how folks with opposing views all consider themselves the ‘real’ patriots- maybe that’s as American a thing as there is) in the sixtieth rendition of this game/event/show.

As much as we (fans, casual to occasional to rabid) HATE hate hate the other three teams in the NFC WEST (maybe a little less this year for the Arizona Cardinals), it seems pretty apparent, with three teams from our Conference in the playoffs, that LA and San Francisco are… good.

It seems, also, obvious, that playing at least twice a season against great (yeah, I bumped them up- because we’re here- wouldn’t have, otherwise) teams only makes the Seahawks BETTER.

NOT that it’s going to be a blowout on Sunday; we’re all way too superstitious (backed up by, you know, history) to get too too cocky, but (yes, I’m knocking on wood AND crossing myself), if, say, the game, as some Superbowls have been, is pretty much over by halftime (I almost never watch the halftime shows- probably will this year in support of American performer), I will watch it until…

THE END.

WSL- I am waiting for more PIPELINE. I am sorry Mason Ho isn’t still in it.

INSTAGRAM- I posted another original video, me playing Harmonica and singing the first verse of an original song. Check it under Erwin A. Dence, Jr. or realsurfersdotnet Here are the lyrics, mine, copyrighted, all rights reserved (legal required):

I see she has an ukulele, ukulele, ukulele; I’m betting that she plays it daily, Ukulele, hukalau.

Every surfer needs an ukulele, ukulele, ukulele; I bought myself an ukulele, maybe she could teach me how.

I have many, many original songs. I am going to try to put one out there on MONDAYS.

CONTACT- erwin@realsurfers.net

Waves… they’re out there.