Tag Archives: women surfers in the Northwest,

For The Complaint Department, Go To: Helen Waite

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, hipster surfers, learning to surf, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, real surfers coloring book, Seattle surfers, surf adventures, surf sessions, surfing blogs, surfing in Washington State, surfing Neah Bay, surfing the strait of juan de fuca, women surfers in the Northwest,, writings of Erwin Dence

I was working in Port Angeles all week, never had (or gave myself) a chance to even check out the surf; but, then, wait for it (I have), I went. Yeah, I joined the seeming caravan of time-offers and weekenders and vacationers headed toward the Olympic Peninsula, home to the Olympic Mountains, named, appropriately, after the mythical home of the mythical gods. It’s like… Nirvana, with a different lineup (do I have to add ‘not the bend? Probably). Yeah, and there’s, like forests and… lakes, and… It is enticing, entrancing, inviting those stuck on I-5 to drive however many hours to get here. And the weather has just been so… Southern California-ISH. Not that I’m complaining.

This was a side project. I was painting an ADU on the Port Angeles property. Someone else cut out the trees a while back. The homeowner, who has a lot off artsy stuff going on, gave me free reign. Thanks.

The job done, I traded ladders for a thrashed out board, and headed back north. It’s not that I want to share the road OR the waves. Dawn patrolling might help. Still, I worry. I am still trying to get past a severe thrashing from mid-winter, and have had few opportunities to rebuild my. confidence. What if, I was thinking on the way up Surf Route 101, it’s closed out and crowded and… ?And then, when I arrived… no worries; no ‘got to go NOW’ conditions. Barely breaking. It was a ‘it might get better’ situation, so, normal. Not crowded… yet. No side wind. Yet. I took my time, chatted with PA locals, Bill Truckenmueller (sp?) and his son, who talked about how the day before was better, and never got out of their van, and told me they were leaving as a sacrifice to the swell gods. “Thanks. I’ll let you know what you missed next time I see you.”

Parked in my favorite spot was THOR. I’ve surfed with him quite a few over the years. He said the previous day started similarly weak and inconsistent, and got better. The last time I saw Thor was at the Lower Elwha gas station. He had just suffered a serious injury. He’s fully recovered now. I filled him in on what is happening with me. I did, because I do, mention this blog. “You. mean your personal complaint department?” ‘Huh? What? Um, yeah.”

Still taking my sweet time getting suited up, a rig pulled up next to me, two young (relatively) men jumped out, instantly started putting fins on their fancy wood boards. Just making conversation, because ERWIN TALKS TO STRANGERS, I mentioned their parking gave themselves plenty of room, but they could have parked closer, allowing the next folks room. “No.” Okay. No disagreeing. I asked one of them how long he’d been surfing. “A while.” “Oh. Did you, like, start during Covid?” “Give me a break.” “Okay, so… adult learner. Surf school.” No answer. “It’s pretty flat. Hobuck’s probably big. Maybe you should go there.” The other guy came around the corner, turning his Patagonia wetsuit rightsideout while doing modified squats. “Why don’t you go, then?” “Too far. Too scary.” “Sure.” Possible sarcasm. “Um, where’d you, if I might ask, come from?” No answer. “I live in Quilcene. It’s down the canal.” “Okay. Sure.” Somewhere it was revealed they were from Kirkland. “Might be bigger there,” one of the Kirkland dudes said before he raced his friend toward the water.

It’s fine that, when flipping friendly-ish shit, some gets flipped back. The test of surfing is in the water. By the time I got out, there were five or six other surfers out. Long boards. I took off on a wave, not believing (or looking) behind me. “Hey!” A guy on a green longboard, who wasn’t on the wave, yelled, “You have to look. That’s it! You get. one. drop-in!” He paddled out. I paddled out. He back paddled me. Evidently backpaddling was acceptable. Fine. Game on!

I don’t mean to overdramatize this; not high tension. Just, with not-great waves, kind of unnecessary.

There were some other ‘your wave, my wave’ things happening over the course of the session, but I didn’t have any other disputes with the unofficial regulator. He did continue to backpaddle, I played my game, managed to get some rides I was really happy with. Meanwhile, the Kirkland guys did not dominate. The lineup had the usual small day ratio of beginners to experienced surfers, and I noticed several of the guys in the water looked… similar. We all want to identify who, in the water, is going to blow a takeofff, who is a bit too aggressive; all of which helps us catch more waves and stay out of trouble. Maybe. Plus, it’s not cool to stare at your. competition. Or talk too much.

None of these societal restraints kept me from paddling over and making a comment to the large (not that I’m small) woman with a bright red, full-brimmed hat on. It seemed, not staring, that it was attached to a hood. Maybe it just had a very practical chin strap. “You’re doing your best to avoid cancer,” I said. “I’m trying.” She took off on a wave, went straight, and two other women, with similar hats, about to paddle out, hooted, wildly, as if their friend had won the contest. Perhaps she had. We are all competing in our minds. Aren’t we?

I managed to outlast the green board enforcer, but he did paddle out next to Thor, and, possibly because Thor was, my assessment, the best surfer out at this time, engaged him in conversation. I mentioned that when the waves dropped back to minimal as the tide drained out. “Yeah, I told him you’re old, you have really bad knees, your wife is battling cancer, and you should give you a break.” “Thanks, Thor, but… about those two times you burned me…” “Oh, one was for the guy you burned, and the other… It was my one free burn.” Fair. Enough.

I had to take this photo. The guy sat there a while, looking like Rodin’s “The Thinker.” I asked if he was thinbking, “Damn, should have gotten here earlier.” “No, I was thinking… maybe it’ll get better.” Eventually. Yes.

Contact- erwin@realsurfers.net

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Thanks; catch some waves when you can, limit your dropins, backpaddle at will, keep it friendly, keep it fun. But, FUCK CANCER!

Oh, shit! I forgot. I do have some new ORIGINAL ERWIN illustrations. I will post them soon.

Super Busy Working on Being Forgotten

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, northwest surfing, old surfers, real surfers, surf addiction, surf fiction, surf novels, surfing, surfing Southern California in the 60s, surfing Swamis, surfing the strait of juan de fuca, women surfers in the Northwest,, writings of Erwin Dence

That may be a bit cynical. I have been surfing a bit (never enough) lately, trying my darndest to make up for a 2024’s bad session/wave count. I’m back to trusting my reborn VOLVO to make it up SURF ROUTE 101 far enough to find some rumored waves. MEANWHILE, rumor-wise, there have been times when surfers just had to check out the Strait. Whether or not it was working, surfers did show up and I did not. The sentiment among those lucky or stubbornly willful enough to live on the Olympic Peninsula is to try to avoid the forecasted days, particularly on the weekends (Friday through Monday, sometimes Thursday -Tuesday) to avoid any crowds.

CROWDS- Here is my wish/prayer list- 1. Waves. 2. Good tides. 3. Favorable winds. 4. Good parking spot. 5. Uncrowded lineup.

OBVIOUSLY there is a correlation between the parking and the number of surfers in the lineup. I have seen days where all semi-convenient parking spots were taken, some with occupants sleeping or making brunch, and the crowd is mostly surfers on the beach watching and waiting. And I have seen days with no crowds and rideable waves.

Here’s what happens: You surf. It’s, you know, decent. You tell one or two of your closest surf friends. They don’t believe you. That’s fair; you don’t believe them when they talk about barrel fests and such.

This lack of belief shouldn’t be a problem. REAL SURFERS do it for the soul enriching wonderfulness of the experience of climbing into a cold, damp wetsuit, booties and gloves and hood, and venturing into cold ass water to surf waves, their wonderfulness in the eye and mind of the venturer. BUT, NO, a little acknowledgement is, at the very least, appreciated. I’ve seen the most soulful of soul surfers surf just a bit better when someone else shows up. It’s the nature of the beasts we are.

BECAUSE I’M candid by nature as well as competitive, I admit, now, in writing, that I kind of enjoy having some sort of reputation for showing up when waves are rideable. I enjoy seeing surfers I know, or recognize; and I collect little stories from many of them. AND, since I’ve shown up less frequently, I… neurotically, self-centered-ly, worry, just a bit, or, more accurately, have considered that I am in the process of being forgotten.

It happens. Years ago, now, I read a piece on some older surfer who quit surfing urging other older practitioners of the sport/art/lifestyle to just fucking quit and become a legend. Sure, but legends only last as long as people remember. Do you remember ARCHIE or BIG DAVE or a growing number of surfers who made the same searches you are making, suffered the same skunkings, found the same rare gems, felt the same chill and the same magic?

MAYBE you do. Or you have your own list. This all leads me to surfing in crowded conditions. Is it worth it? I’ve seen so many times when people piled out of rigs and raced into the water without even checking the conditions, all based on ‘the rule of the parking lot;’ if surfers are out, it must be worth joining them.

AGAIN, crowds are number five on my list. I might just snag a few. As much as I appreciate the atmosphere of even, let’s say, the whole circus-like scene at Westport, my motto continues to be: I’m here to surf.

International Women SURFERS’ DAY- I do not have a problem with women surfers. At all. Some have had issues with me. Understandable. There were fewer, percentage-wise, girls and women surfing when I started. AND, I know I’ve said this before, but my sister Suellen got me into board surfing, our mother drove us and our siblings to the beach because she loved it, and went to better surfing beaches because we surfed.

It isn’t an accident that one of the two main characters in my novel, “SWAMIS,” Julia ‘Cold’ Cole, is a surfer AND a strong and intelligent woman. Persistence is absolutely required for anyone to attain any level above mere competence in surfing, the sport, and is also necessary to fit in as an equal in the art/lifestyle part of trying to ride waves, an objectively ridiculous and so-often frustrating activity/obsession/addiction.

I am pushing my daughter, DRU, to format and, maybe, do a little editing, if necessary, on my manuscript. MEANWHILE, though my painting life has suddenly gotten way busier, I am working on getting pieces together for my poetry/song (mostly song, some essays, some illustrations) book, “Love Songs for Cynics,” together.

Thanks, as always, for checking out realsurfers.net. Get some waves!

Modest Cover and Changing Justifications

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, women surfers in the Northwest,

HERE, edited, is the piece I meant to post last Wednesday:

THE DIFFERENCE between what I write for realsurfers and pretty much anything else I write is that much of what is posted is written on site, under the real or imagined pressure (mostly imagined) of having to be somewhere else other than wailing away on my borrowed laptop.

EDITING is the difference. Re-reading, rewriting; trying to push randomness into cohesion, trying to produce something, hopefully, readable, worthwhile.

In direct contradiction of this statement, I’m suddenly thinking of how chaotic winds can, on occasion, turn into lined-up waves.

Yeah, that sounds kind of braggy; maybe I’ll edit it out.

AFTER THE FACT, I would like to add something(s) to a recent post in which I neglected to say how, when I was a teenager, and the only surfers who entered discussions with my friends who surfed were those in our age bracket. Surfers, we concluded, at sixteen or seventeen, peak at nineteen. It was fine to take girls to the beach if you were planning on, maybe, making out, rather than actually surfing. Having a girlfriend who actually surfed, rather one who was willing to watch her boyfriend surf was not discussed.

The thrill of watching me surf wore off fairly early for Trish. Still, we had some sessions.

WHAT I NOW WANT TO EMPHASISE is that opinions and attitudes change. AND NEED TO.

NOW I see couples, some with children, taking turns in the water. GREAT!

MY MOTHER was left out of the original post. She loved going to the beach, and would load up her seven children, sometimes a friend, and all our gear, and head out. When my older sister, SUELLEN, and I started riding boards, learning more about where better waves were, and when (not noon), our mother was more than willing to go earlier and to check out spots beyond TAMARACK. Grandview? Black’s Beach? We looked.

A bit of a shoutout to our dad, I distinctly remember both my parents taking me to 15th Street, Del Mar, as kind of a part of a rare date away from the whole of their family, sitting in the parking lot as I ‘practiced’ for a high school surfing contest.  

Here, not for the sake of argument, are a couple of possibly sexist drawings I didn’t include last time:

I SAID I was honoring International Women’s Day and then displayed a retrospective of my drawings and silkscreens that, by today’s standards and my own changed ideas on how women should be portrayed, may make me seem a bit more sexist/cave person-like than I would like to believe I am. Is it still okay to portray nude women under some modest cover that argues it is not objectification? I DON’T KNOW. If I figure it out I will let you know. I do know that justifying working on nudes in my thirties (I also did landscapes and illustrations of surfing and houses) was different, if not easier, than it would be in my seventies.  

THAT SAID, I should address my own behavior in the water. AS IN, do I surf in a sexist manner?  I do consider myself an equal opportunity wave hog. As in, if I see an opportunity to go for a wave… I do. The relative competence of others in the water is a factor. HAVING SAID THAT, I now wish to claim that I’m not as bad as I once was. EVOLVING? Just getting older? Debatable. ADDITIONALLY… No, that’s enough.

EXCEPT, that, there’s all the hype and social bullshit around surfing, all the what it can be (magic) and what it is (difficult, impossible to conquer or to perfect). If you take every experience you have had in surfing, from your first times wading into the water, to now; what is it you cherish the most, what is it you remember first and most fondly?

YEAH, I thought so. 

Original silkscreen, from 1980s, found in the attic.

AS ALWAYS, THANKS for checking out realsurfers. Updates on my novel, “SWAMIS,” and other stuff on Wednesday. All rights to all original, copyrighted work are reserved by Erwin A. Dence, Jr.