…to my ego, I’m posting a few photos from a recent session. Yeah, I know there’s kind of a thing about taking photos of places that might be recognized, and I did tell the stealth photographer I wouldn’t reveal where or who. But I did thank him, despite asking for photos where I don’t look fat.

Guess he didn’t have any of those.

Anyway, I know the waves were actually bigger later. Pretty sure. There’s nothing at all in the forecast for the Strait, so, guess I’d better concentrate on work. OR go to the coast.

Yeah; also working on actually standing up on this board. I’m blaming the oversized booties. No, I can’t explain the odd paddle positioning; more concentrated on my own positioning on the wave. Obviously shoulder high for a fat guy. Yeah, yeah…prrrrrtttt.

ONE: I was filling my friend Keith Darrock in on some of the details as I made my way back home, focusing, probably, for a moment, on how I’d almost said something to a surfer who paddled for a couple of set waves he didn’t catch. Now, although I do have a reputation for being too vocal in the water, it’s not for calling people out (more like over exuberance). I may have given the surfer in question a disparaging look that might, easily, be translated to, “you’ll have to assume, sir, that the next time we’re going for a set wave, I won’t back off.”

That didn’t happen. Fortunately. When I got to the beach I discovered the surfer in question is Arnold (sorry I don’t know his last name), one of the early pioneers of surfing on the Strait, an important member of the Olympic Peninsula Surfrider chapter (as am I), and a close friend and surfing partner of the first surfer I met up here, Daryl Wood.

Daryl Wood, left, Arnold, other Surfrider Olympic Peninsula Chapter members on assignment

“I feel like,” I told Keith, “when I get back on the beach, I should apologize to everyone else who was in the water with me.” “You probably should,” Keith said. I did apologize to Arnold for “any offensive thing I might have done,” once he peeled off his hood, once the guy who was riding with him mentioned his name. This, weirdly, coincided with Concrete Pete, freshly back in the Northwest after an extended stint in Cabo and Southern California, gave me a big hug.

Unusual. I don’t think of myself as being a hug magnet. Now, I did once give Concrete Pete credit for getting the wave of the day on a very small (normal, if normal isn’t flat) day. I wasn’t lying. I really wanted that wave. Arnold said he was only offended I hadn’t given him a hug. Really? Okay.

TWO: If Tim Nolan hadn’t already gotten out of the water, I would have been the fourth oldest surfer in the lineup. Tim is about four years older than I am. As long as he’s still surfing, I have years left in my career. In fact, when I first ran into Tim, over ten years ago; Tim, from Palos Verdes, originally; me from San Diego’s North County; he told me my best years were yet to come.

A legend on the Strait, Tim Nolan. Google “Tim Nolan and the Wave of the Day” for more. It’s somewhere in the realsurfers.net archives. Still dominates.

I’ll have to say I continue to be surprised by how much I get out of surfing; how a dark and moving line at the horizon can be so… so many things, really; from thrilling to frightening.

Yeah, I know; if you’re nineteen and you see three surfers out, each over sixty, you’re thinking, ‘easy pickings.’ I thought the same thing.

Big Dave, two years ago, taking a rare break

THREE: BIG DAVE, a fifteen year old ‘Crystal Pier Rat’ when I moved to Pacific Beach, San Diego, when I was twenty; is one of my surfing heroes. He’s now fifty-nine, and the last time I surfed with him, he was in the water when I arrived. I surfed for about two and a half hours (Dave actually wears a watch in the water, a practice I gave up), got out, got some coffee, rested a a bit, then went out for “Five more.” That became fifteen or so.

Two things here: Good waves are rare; one should maximize the experience. Big Dave and I both catch a lot of waves.

So, wanting to truly maximize my time, with the waves (super unusual) refusing to stop rolling in, I hung out on the beach a while before changing into my real world (painting) clothes. I wanted to take a new photo of Dave.

Somewhere in this time, Tim Nolan returned, just as Dave went streaking across another wave. “There’s Big Dave,” Tim said, “Owning it.”  Yeah.  When I left, five hours after I arrived, Big Dave was still in the water. I should mention, I was exhausted. That’s why Dave’s moved up a few notches on my list of heroes.

AND, and we have some discussions in the water. Often I’m paddling out when he’s on a wave, and vice versa. “Grab a rail,” he’ll say, “do some side-slipping.” “Yeah, I’ll say, when I see some of those sections, I’ll just drop down (Adam Wipeout would call this ‘barrel- dodging’). Maybe I’m scared.” “Don’t be scared.” “Oh, okay.” “Stay up high; that’s how you make those sections.” “Yeah. Right.”

On my most memorable wave on a memorable day, I stayed high on the wave into a section I was sure I wouldn’t make. I could sort of see Dave down the line, paddling out. I held the high line. Thanks, Dave.

…else. Yeah, it’s Hawaii.

I’m guessing this is Stig, Steve’s friend from Hawaii. I’ve never met him. Heard about him. I heard how he and Stephen hit some big reef action on the wild coast; in fact, somewhere in my stacked-on-top-of-each-other entries (working on organizing this), there’s a story Steve wrote (wasn’t happy with my editing/changing, so I ran his as was/is) about that incident.

He told me, on the phone the other day, about this session. Stig had come to the big island from his job on Oahu. He and Steve paddled out on a big day at _______ (I guess I forgot the place’s name), in crowded conditions. Sitting farthest out, diving down to check the reef, Stig evidently was in position for several of the largest ‘bombs.’

Steve, no doubt, said ‘bombs,’ downplaying, as always, his own surfing. “Yeah, but how did the locals treat you?” “Fine.” “Well, maybe they think you’re a… I mean, you’re living there.” “Maybe. People are nice. Even the tweakers. So mellow.” “Okay, gotta go.”

Here’s an email from Stephen on a more recent session at a different spot. There are photos, but I don’t know how, right now, to get them from a compressed file to here.

Hi Erwin.
Ya, I didn’t know what to expect when I paddled out there.
I was shocked to see how big it was.
Close to double with ledgey Hawaii drops.
Ya the vibe is —– —— (redacted by me) party wave style but only lots of guys getting barreled that actually rip.
The take off is super sketch. Gnarley slab reef deal. That’s what makes it badass. The chargers go deep and beginners shoulder hop and groms are further inside.
I was a shoulder hopper. I had some looks at empty bombs too because people couldn’t catch them and I wasn’t on it you know.
For me it’s like a big tropical —– —– (redact).
Every one is really nice out there too.

OKAY, I tried. File type is not supported. Okay, I’ll describe the scene. Light colored, obviously tropical water; overhead (as opposed to hugging the mountains) sun; lefts peeling from a rocky outcropping, into a deeper bay. Surfers are variously charging, turning, in tight; but other shots show ten shoulder-hoppers, just waiting; and one photo has someone in position, kick-stalling, as another longboarder drops in. So, yeah, maybe it is like a big-enough day at ____ ______.

Meanwhile, surf-starved northwesterners are probably all over the highways today. I’m headed the opposite direction, so, sob, sob, more waves for you. No, that’s me sobbing; but I have a plan.