Out On Surf Route 101…

…there are many sites to see (I feel as if I should do some rhyming here),

On the south side of Mount Walker, there’s this place owned by a Hippieeee;

Name’s Hippie Bob or Hippie Mike, I just can’t quite recall (or retell) it;

But have to wonder about the panel wagon, and what tragedy befell it.

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Adam Wipeout James told me I had to check out the board the next time I headed south. The wagon has been parked there, in this little clustered patch in the midst of the Olympic National Forest, for years. The board is a newer addition.

Hydrosexual Stephen Davis was riding with me when we pulled over. “I think that board was made by John Edwards,” Steve said. “You know John Edwards?”

“Yeah; up in Port Townsend. Of course. I once saw John, and I think it might be Jonathan Edwards,” I said, “try to surf in a gale on the windward side of the Quimper Peninsula (I wouldn’t have identified the location in this way to Steve, it’s for the reader’s benefit).  Ridiculous, I thought, and unsuccessful- more so when (the same) Adam Wipeout convinced me, or we convinced each other, to try a similar feat- also unsuccessful; though, while Adam caught at least one wave, I went over the falls sideways onto the rocks adjacent to (I may have said ‘next to’) the boat ramp. First big ding in my first SUP.”

“Uh huh. Um;” looking around, “what do they do here?”

“I don’t know. Never knew.”

“We could find out all this, for sure. Just go to the door.”

Not immediately able to tell which door was the proper entrance, and a bit intimidated (or just polite, or, maybe, in a hurry), the mystery will remain.

The fictionalized versions might be better, anyway.

So… we loaded up and headed down, along Hood Canal, past forest and towns; with the water sparkling in the September sun; down on Surf Route one OH one.

Story to Follow

The almost-true, partially-true Surf Route 101 short story is only partially written, but, with a few moments to screw around before I have to go to work, I did some searching for a photo that might work as a temporary illustration.

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If I can share the thought process: Thanks. The story is about a woman who shows up at Windansea as the tide comes in, possibly twice a day. She never saw a body and refuses to believe her man would drown. I initially looked up ‘habeas corpus,’ thinking it means, “show us the body.” Close. It means “You (should) have the body.” The definition varies.

I decided, when I couldn’t find the Latin for “I should have the body,” that Spanish might make more sense. Windansea seemed like a likely location, partially based on Bob Simmons famously having drowned near there (and this thought may have been pushed further forward in my mind because I was just talking about a Port Townsend surfer also named Bob Simmons).  I believe his body was found, but the body of Dickie Cross, from the famous 1943 Wiamea Bay story, never was washed ashore.

And I have some history at Windansea. Almost ancient history now. 1970s. And I have some history in getting into situations in surf where I told myself I wouldn’t drown. No; not me. Never. So I wrote some phrases for the woman, in English, google translated them into Spanish; started writing.

Forty-some-odd years later; have to wonder if the woman still shows up. Oh, yeah; it’s mostly fiction; but still, it has to be real in my mind. Working on it. I took a few too many minutes.