The contest season in the West-Northwest is over. Sort of. Maybe. Big wave stuff might be coming up, but what’s always happening is the day-to-day session stuff, surfers waiting, searching, ready to test ourselves against the conditions, the crowds, and our own desires to score.

Scoring, of course, means different things to different people. While some are looking to score, to dominate, even, some are content to be on a scene, part of the people hanging in the parking lot, on the bluff, on the beach, or in the lineup. There is, then, always Westport.

Wind-whipped and/or out of control huge, semi-lined up and groomed peaks, Westport is rarely flat, flat, flat. Along with Seaside, it’s a destination semi-surf town. When all the wave energy is from the south, it’s a choice.

No, though I often tell surf fans checking out the potential on the Strait to go to Westport, I’m not trying to sound like the tourist bureau. However, there is a tradition of Olympic Peninsula surfers heading down when it’s flat and/or if there was an unavoidably alluring southy. Surfers made friends with Seaside and Westport locals. Homes were opened for visits. There was some reciprocity.

I’m also not saying this aloha-esc sharing is over. Recently, my friend Keith Darrock headed down to hang with a friend in Westport the weekend of the longboard contest. Another trip had Keith hitting Oregon, hanging and surfing with friends he grew up with in Yachats. I asked him to send some photos.

Yeah; Westport. Dreamy, huh?

Keith’s crock in Seaside. I did hear some stories and saw some photos of surf in deeper Oregon, but was instructed not to publish them. Keith’s friends wouldn’t appreciate it. His friends. Keith did call me from the parking lot at Seaside Point on his way back. A local running out, gave him the kind of look regulars at any localized spot give interlopers.

Not aloha-esc. I don’t have any friends, exactly, in Seaside, but my father lived iin Chinook, Washington, close enough to be within an acceptable range (based on my being vibed, in the past, by a dude from Astoria), and my brother now owns tharinghe house. I keep telling my friends that we could cruise down, hit the Point. Could. Everyone appreciates sharing.

Sorry. Sarcasm; but, on one visit to my dad’s, after three days, actual locals were kind of, almost, friendly. Cove’s one thing; Point’s another.

Images of Seaside; one by me, one of me, one by my nephew, Fergus, who was threatened, then asked if he caught the surfer’s last ride, then allowed to leave. I must be thinking too much about Seaside. No, go to Westport, even if you’re from Seattle or, even, Canada.

MEANWHILE, I did watch some of a Challenger Series contest from Brazil. Still rooting for Sally Fiitzgibbons. She got into the semi-finals. Stephanie Gilmore wasn’t competing there, so we’ll see how the season ends for the holdovers from their generation. Interestingly, the contest on the women’s side ended with a sixteen-year-old winning over a, like, nineteen-year-old. Brutal. Or fun, depending onb your perspective.

Meanwhile, I am reciting or reading an excerpt from an original poem at an event in Port Townsend. It’s kind of an honor to be included. There are so many ways I can fuck this up. I’ll let you know.

erwin@realsurfers.net realsurfersdotnet on Instagram.

I do plan on writing about Instagram addction. Later. Thanks for checking out my site. Get some waves.