Last night was one of the best Summer night of the year and its not even Summer yet. While playing a classic game of group solitaire (and I was getting schooled), we looked out the window. The tide was coming up, brushing the top rocks of the Topaz jetty. “Wanna go?!” We ran out of the back yard, bareback, down the sand and scrambled the brown bolders until we were deep enough. Better than any diving board, we found a nice rock and took a few belly dives off into the 67 degree salt water. The sun was low and everything was fulled with silver and purple. We swam into the high tide and rode the shore pounders up and down like kids taking loops on escalators switched to high speed: swan dives and cannon balls plummeting into the sand on repet. I think I took about 30 “one mores.”
Oh, Redondo. I love the walking around on the pier with the odd mix of people fishing, and tourists dumped off the bus. And of course climbing and hanging around like a bum on the break wall is a classic. But I have always wished that I could see this place before it all was built and you could surf here. However, according to this post card it is “EVERYTHING FOR THE WATERSIDE VACATION.” Or just everything for my life. Love this place.
Happy birthday, sister!
Easter session with my brother and the water is getting warmer. Yay for Sunday afternoons.
I was enlightened by the nice woman at Catalina Coffee who I randomly had run into before and had a few coincidental commonalties. I know know that the Equinox is when the days are equal in length. They only get longer from here on out.
Not sure why this person picked the most hazardous industrial area to represent the city. Love it anyway.
When it is so cold and windy, it is hard to remember that there was ever a day when it was not. Remember shorts? They are like pants but shorter. Hence the name.
This morning I walked out to the strand and saw people walking like babies bundled by an overprotective mother for the kids first day in the snow. Most of them were just hoping that their dog would hurry up and do its business before they had to rush to work.
The flag at Topaz was blowing straight East, looked like one of those stiff, Fourth of July cupcake decorations. Need I say, the surf was not so glassy.
Wind, wind, go away. Come again some other day.
Slept in and made my way to Sapphire eventually for a rainy eve surf session. Silvery sky, and salty gray swell made for quite a lovely morning. Eli went left, I went right. The clouds rained daintily around us, sounding like the ringing noise that lingers after the high note on a xylophone has been hit. With the hiding sun, it was hard to tell what time it was when we got out, but we were hungry. After snagging some holiday toffee from the Lampkins and wishing the Currans a very merry Christmas, we headed for Ave A and Christina whipped up some tasty tuna melts on the balcony. So far, it has been a quaint and mirthfully whimsical sort of day. Who needs a white Christmas when you can get a surfy gray one?
I can hear a bell ringing in my ear. My alarm clock chimes and I fling my arm through the darkness to make it stop. The air is so cold my nose hurts and I don’t even bother taking off my layers of pajamas while getting dressed. I only change my pants, add a coat on top of my sweatshirt and an over sized scarf before grabbing my board and racing to the car.
This is Southern California. Yes, it is 36 degrees. Yes, I still went surfing.
Without checking the waves, I suit up (because I know I would talk my self out of it while sitting and watching all bundled up). Turns out, the water is warmer than the air and the waves are flatter than the sky. I paddled around for a bit anyway, only catching a few at way too low of a tide. But it was a nice glassy morning all to myself.
But getting out hurts more than getting in. The stony cold sand numbs your feet just enough so they feel nothing but ice and walking on the rocks and streets feel like pins and needles. So I run up to the Currans shower.
That glorious hot shower. I turn the knob all the way high so it gushes juccizilike temperatures while the surrounding air turns a sauna white and my skin turns sunburnt red. I can begin to feel my feet thaw like an ice cube in a boiling pot. From the Esplanade shower, I can still see Sapphire trying to break as best as it can and waiting for the tide to come up. Sticking my head under the steaming downpour, I think to myself, this has to be the best bathing spot in the world.
Then I ran off to work.
Went out of the house this morning and into the fog. If I were a sailor I would say, so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife. Blindly hoping the cove was a good as yesterday, I walked down the trail with no waves in sight. Once I paddled through a bit of the misty marine layer, I could see at least fifty other people out with me, all of us banking on the fact that fog scares away everyone else. Nicely enough, I got to chat with a lot of friends and surf buddies, home for the holiday. We surfed silvery and fairly inconsistent waves all morning.
I had to be at work at 2:00. Considering it was Black Friday, a few of us were working a half shift at Manduka. I was planing to get out of the water 12:00/12:30. Walked up the rocks and changed at the bench. When I asked what time it was and the reply was 1:47 I felt that way you feel when you are asleap and you fall in a dream than kick you leg and scare yourself awake. I had surfed for five hours with my head in a fog and no conception of time. Bewildered, I booked it up the trail and hopped in the van. Ding. The gas light was on and the dial way too low so I put in a few ounces to get me across town and raced through PV, Redondo, Hermosa, Manhattan and El Segundo to get to work, hair wet, with my suit under my North Face jacket and only 39 minutes late.
Like a vacation on Avenue C. Sharing the old bungalow with two pugs and a hamster.