Tag Archives: surfing in a crowd

Heavy TRAFFIC and the Full Hand Flipoff

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, aggressive surfers, learning to surf, northwest surfing blog,, real surfers, surf culture, surf fiction, surf novels, surf satire, surfing, surfing the strait of juan de fuca, Uncategorized, writings of Erwin Dence

                                    Crowd Surfing and City Driving: A Comparison

IT isn’t some brilliant or sudden or unique thought that driving in traffic is very much like surfing in a crowded lineup. Still, I have some thoughts.

Photo from San Diego Surf School.

FUCKERS cut you off; DICKWADS on oversized boards drop in way outside of you; over stimulated shortboard PUNKS backpaddle and drop in, at the last moment, with you obviously desiring a certain wave; oblivious ADULT LEARNERS blindly paddle for the shoulder on a wave you might, just possibly, thrash; BACKOFF BOBS and BETTYS add a chandelier to a section you would have made; a PACK OF possibly local, definitely friends act as a TEAM/GANG to dominate a peak, blocking your attempts to crack the lineup… EVEN WHEN you are SO, SO patient, respectful, almost ready to forget your hard earned sense of dignity and beg for just  ONE chance,  ONE non-set, not-a-bomb wave. Looking around the playing field at the greedy movers and shakers, the ‘just-happy-to-be-out-here’ enthusiasts; checking out and the seemingly omnipresent surf-adjacent crew of onlookers, color commentators, judges, cheerleaders, coaches, filmers; are they pleased that you’re frustrated? Fuck, yeah, and fuck you; maybe next time you’ll bring your own crew. OR…

from MUMMY TALES, a wordpress site/blog.

THE GREAT EQUALIZER- Not talking Colt 45 here, or any violent road rage insanity, and it’s not an avocado-to-mango comparison, but ANY MOTORIZED VEHICLE (even hybrid or electric) is capable of doing the same maneuvers as your ride of choice, attain the same speeds as your work rig or your Camry; and, additionally, a motorcycle (or Vespa or overpowered electric bike) can weave through lane changes and backups way better than a jacked-up, offroad diesel burning MAN truck, the modern incarnation of a Corvette, regardless of how many lights and wenches and flags and scary decals the man-mobile is sporting. ANYONE’S GRANDMA in a coupe, even without a spoiler and noisy muffler, any WHIMP, regardless of party or sexual affiliation, can cut you off in the collector/distributer lane, whip into the parking spot at Costco that, though not close to the entrance, is (was) close to a cart return. OH, IF ONLY you had a handicapped sticker.

SIGNALS- Yes, it is still rude to be yelling, “MY WAVE, MINE, MINE, MINE!!!” However, it is sometimes helpful to signal your intensions. Subtly. Softly. “Excuse me, but I am going on the second wave of the incoming set. Feel free to discuss the first wave among yourselves. And… Did you not hear me? My wave… mine, mine, MINE!!!!!”


5/10/2011 – Jay Janner/AMERICAN-STATESMAN – Emily McLean is stuck in a traffic jam on Colorado Street after President Barack Obama gave a speech at ACL Live at the Moody Theater on Tuesday May 10, 2011. She got stuck waiting to turn onto Cesar Chavez Street. The street was closed for about half an hour for the president’s motorcade. NOTE- I liked the photo.

THE FULL HAND FLIPOFF- Here’s how this civilized screed (I’m not checking if it can be both a screed and civilized) came to be: I have this bad habit of not using my car’s turn signals. This is how my daughter Dru and I decided it was her driving Trisha’s Highlander when a traffic camera in Poulsbo caught it running a light. Signals. Still, I, as the registered owner, got the ticket. In the mail. I thought it was a scam. No. They want real money. SO,

I’m in a hurry, going from here to there in Port Townsend. Not that I’m ever not in a hurry (when I’m behind the wheel. MAYBE, slight interjection, when I’m on my way home from surfing. SO, I make a left onto a busy street over by the school with the pool and the food bank on Wednesdays. It may or may not have been a Wednesday, but, as I’m making a right hander onto San Juan, I notice a woman, evidently waiting to turn left from San Juan, in a dark car. She is raising her left hand up, fingers spread. The back her hand is up near or against the window. As I ease around the corner, I can’t help but focus on the woman and the gesture. Was she waving? Do I know her? No. She may or may not have smacking the back of her hand against the window, but her frustration was obvious. Or should have been.

WHILE I’M THINKING ABOUT all this; you know when there’s some reason, known or unknown, for a backup, and the right lane is moving faster, relying on the kindness of strangers to let them in at the last moment? Well, I have been known to position my vehicle in such a position that these late mergers can’t, cannot merge. Similarly, I have either yelled out, “GO… whoever” when another surfer is about to be dropped in on (again) AND/OR I have blocked a shoulder hopper. Not that this is any way noble. I have had surfers cut across my bow (sailor lingo) to keep me off a wave.  

Be patient, be safe. It’s only surfing, or traffic, or any situation in which a horde is keeping you from that which you desire. Now I’m thinking about checkout lines and Disneyland and imagining an empty lineup with wonderful waves and… no, I’m back to remembering the full hand flip off. Deserved. Sorry, Ma’am.  

I HAVE BEEN offering an incorrect email address. erwin@realsurfers.net will work. Don’t be afraid.

SURFWISE- There may or may not have been waves in this off most charts zone. As always. It is March, coming in, as the poets say, ‘like a lion.’ Wind, surprise snow, generally crappy weather. The snow is happening. While several of the local Olympic Peninsula surfers are elsewhere, including Chimacum Tim in some exotic spot close to Epstein’s Island. Surfer/snowboarders are hitting the slopes. I will have more on how snowboarding and skiing are better than surfing NEXT TIME.

MEANWHILE, try really hard to relax. Yes, it’s a lot of work staying calm, not freaking the fuck out. Try a mantra, repeated until your mind if free from panic-inflaming reality. This might not be proper, but you can use mine: NOTHING, NOThing, NOthing, nothing, nothing… nothing… …nothing… AH!

All work and no play make Jack a dull boy… All work and no play make Jack a dull boy. All work and no play make Jack a dull boy All work and no play make… You can’t handle the truth! No. Wait. All work and no play make… Chinatown… No, no, it’s… you see, it’s like this: I… No, no. All work and no play… no play… no… nothing, nothing, nothing. Not a damn thing. You got that? No? Okay. Nothing, nothing, nothingnothingnothing.

That Wave’s Gone, Man… cont.

Posted on by under Uncategorized

I am often unsure as to whether I wrote about something, talked about it (more likely), or just thought about it. In a prolonged period of not surfing, and if one (presuming I can serve as an example) waits for waves on the Strait, this can be an extended time between swells, rumors of swells, and just swells that have no chance of threading the needle; a comparatively tight fit if you’re looking from space; and hitting a spot I’m willing to go to, the desire to surf and the frustration… builds.

In addition to predicted swells not behaving to the forecast models, there are the other factors, adverse winds, mostly, chopping up whatever swell is heading east.

Tensions mount, and even the mellow-ist surfer is ready and planning to go for as many waves as possible. So, if a swell, forecasted well ahead, that doesn’t do the drop-off as the actual day approaches, people, surfers of all ability and stoke levels, show up ready to rumble.

Resentments, to narrow this, are what I’m attempting to focus on here, specifically holding on to them. In my most recent session, not that it was all that recent, with the window closing, I had the opportunity to, possibly, run over a guy who ruined two rides, like, a year ago, and, not only didn’t apologize for not even trying to get out of the way, but actually may have not even noticed, or cared, or may have even thought he was, somehow, getting even with me. No, I didn’t yell or try to push him back, I just rode past him.

EVEN? Who knows. Happy? Not really, but it was important enough to think/talk/write about it.

This photo is, obviously not current. Yeah, I remember Thorpe. And Bellore is still playing. Here’s how it relates: I watched some YouTube last night, MIC’D UP segments. The one from two weeks ago featured Pete Carroll. At one point, he talking to running back Dallas, who had just made some mistake, possibly even a fumble, and was obviously upset. “It’s over,” the coach said, “Keep playing.”

I’m trying to remember the times I’ve been resentful of someone in the water. Having five guys show up on stand up paddleboards when I’m on a regular longboard was one. Tough to compete. I got out of the water and went somewhere else. They won. If there is winning in surfing.

Because I watch too many YouTubes, I recently saw one in which Matt Archibald was on the beach at very crowded Lower Trestles, discussing how, when he started out, the less experienced surfers got the scraps and worked their way up the pecking order. It is a competition for the best waves, and reaching a certain skill level allowed one to challenge those at the peak. Now, he said, eight-year-olds are going for bombs.

Fully realizing that I have caused others to be frustrated because I’m competitive, riding a big board, with a paddle, I… really, I’m not sure where to go with this. I’ll have to think about it.

OKAY, having thought for about two minutes, here’s an example: There were three good surfers at the peak, waiting for the sets. There were six or eight surfers on the down-wave side of the peak. Unwilling to wait, I had to watch as the surfers went for the (relative) ‘bombs’ I would have loved to have been riding. On the beach, I was sort of pleasantly surprised when others were grumbling about someone other than me. Several surfers were visibly pissed, talking about ‘backpaddling,’ and such crimes.

The truth is, if they wanted the set waves, all they had to do is paddle outside and wait. Turns were taken, mostly. Not that I defended the surfers at the peak too stridently. I was thinking about the rides I had gotten. Happily.

Still, the froth is building. If we’re in the water together, come sit by me. No, really.

“Swamis” excerpt on Wednesday, come hell or high surf. OH, and I’m working on some new t-shirt designs. Thanks for reading.