As I've said before, I've been here about two years now. I've seen a great deal of California, doing my part to uphold the long tradition here of the weekend warrior. This state has so much to offer and so much to see within a variety of ecosystems and geographies all tucked away into one corner of the U.S. And that goes without even mentioning the contrasts between the cities.I love to travel, and Larry and I get away quite often. Whether it be to his family's cabin in the Sierras, a weekend trip to San Diego, a day of snowboarding at Snow Summit, or north again to his mother's in Salinas/Monterey, we tend to live for the weekend. But more and more, my weekends tend to revolve around one thing: surfing.
I've always had a fondness for board sports, but growing up in Missouri, I never thought I would get on a surfboard. Even the guys in the lineup are usually a bit perplexed when the topic between sets turns to my birthplace. The response is usually something like, "Are you serious?", or "There aren't many waves in Missouri, are there?". Haha. Very funny.
When I first started, I thought it would be somewhat difficult, but was convinced it would be low-impact. No need to worry about injuries, right? It's only water.
I quickly realized that this sport is the most difficult thing I've ever taken on in my entire life. The balance I acquired from skateboarding and snowboarding definitely helped me out, but surfing is a completely different monster. Trying stand up on a floating piece of glassed foam at just right moment while paddling into an oncoming six foot wall of water is no easy task. I've eaten shit more times that I can count - infinitely more than successful rides. I've been held under water for what seemed like an eternity, only to surface and immediately get pushed back under. My head has been scraped along the ocean floor more than once, encountering everything from sand to rocks to boulders. Once, after a pretty spectacular wipe-out, I surfaced only to have my 9.5 foot longboard fall from the sky directly on to my skull. I've fallen from the top of a 6 foot wave directly onto my ribs on my board below. And I bruised my tailbone from falling ass-first on a massive rock.
There is also a great deal to be learned about the wave too because each break is has it's own personality. In addition to becoming familiar with a large number of the breaks in Southern California, I've also learned a great deal about swell, buoys, near-shore swell models, fetch, bottom-contour, wave height, sets, set waves and a gazillion other terms that are best defined by Surfline.
All of this may be a hinderance to some, but actually, I thrive on it. I'm completely addicted and absolutely have no intentions of stopping, ever. Nothing compares to an early morning, sitting on my board just offshore in Laguna Beach, with a pod of porpoises feeding just 20 feet from me. Or getting in the water after work somewhere along the miles of sand in Huntington Beach, and then getting out as the sun is setting.
So now, 4 boards later (one of which I proudly snapped in half), I'm actually becoming pretty good. My sessions in the water are becoming less about surviving and more about having fun and enjoying the ocean. Even our California weekend get-aways are more frequently incorporating the beach because a surfboard is now required luggage. So when my friends say, "What do you mean you've never been to Vegas?", or "I can't believe you still haven't seen Palm Springs", the first thought in my mind is "Well....there aren't any waves there." And besides, I'd rather be surfing.