Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Growing up on the Great Lakes, I never saw surfing first hand.  Practically exotic foreign culture, surfers named Moon Doggy spent their time jumping into the middle of house-high water like the guy on the credits for "Hawaii Five-O."  This  view was wrong.

Though surfers do have a culture, language and mystique of their own, they are everywhere.  In cold water, they wear wetsuits and other insulation gear.  There are surfers not only in California and Hawaii, but I've met surfers from British Columbia, Washington, Oregon, Long Island and Boston who travel to Australia, Canada, Mexico, and anywhere else with happenin' waves.

It's cold this week (for here,) but the wind is from the east, and the ocean is like glass.  The waves are smallish, but consistent and clean.  Lucky dudes have suited up and are catching some of them;  others are watching longingly from jobs at construction sites and hotels.

Today was beautiful.  I had some errands in Seaside and took a bag lunch to just north of the Cove.  Lo and behold:  surfers at 12 o'clock.  Ahh, a photo opp.   I once did a small favor for a visiting surfer who expressed his  gratitude in one of the sweetest, heartfelt blessings I've ever received:  "I wish you good waves."