Water, Water Everywhere And Not A Drop To Drink
Hijinks On The High Seas… And Beyond
Author Archives: Casey Butler Harwood
Limited Guts, Zero Glory. But My New Board Is A Babe.
I believe I last left you with heckling my shaper (Ian Wright) and “going for it.” Luckily, both of those things have to do with my yesterday.
After trying (and failing) to be the perfect, patient board commissioner, my shaper (yes, that’s right, Stuart) called me on Thursday and said, more or less, “Jesus, woman, you can come and get it tomorrow. Sheesh.” So the next day, I drove through LA county traffic in August heat to get my penguin. This is a rough facsimile of the conversation that ensued… edited for brevity. And stuff.
C: It has my name on it!
I: Well, yeah, it’s a custom board. If I ordered a custom board and it didn’t have my name on it, I’d be pissed.
C: I didn’t even think about it.
I: That is why your hair color is blonde.
C: I really am sorry if I was a pain in the ass, I didn’t mean to rush you…
I: [Straight-faced. Probably kidding. I think.] You were a real pain in the ass, actually. I was starting to get pissed. I called everyone at SURFER and told them so.
C: Well, anyway, it really is beautiful. [Gazing, starry-eyed at the gleaming white glass.]
I: You’re not gonna sleep with it, are ya?
C: Maybe. Here’s what was left in my bank account.
I: Thanks.
C: Hasta la vista, baby!
I: Ciao.
How I Came To Be Boardless. Count To Zen.
On Sunday, I found myself sitting on the beach. Reading. No surfboard next to me. A weird combination of factors and events contributed to this unfamiliar scenario. Read on.
numberONE: The water temperature was freakishly low:
“Holy fuck! The water is freezing today!” — Actual text message.
I believe 55 degrees is a confirmed figure.
numberTWO: “Now once upon a time not too long ago,” I hid out at Strands for an entire day (after strong-arming a hoe) and enjoyed the departure of June gloom. Yes, it’s August. Anyway, I spent the day surfing some fun ant hills. On my first wave, my ancient leash snapped. I took the opportunity to teach myself what everyone from California and Hawaii seems to know: how to surf without one. In other words, properly. With “situational awareness.”
numberTHREE: Within a few days, I was actually feeling comfortable without a leash. I was also feeling disgruntled the following Tuesday afternoon and all I wanted to do was surf–despite the fact that the waves were miniscule. I headed to Creek, which I thought might be better than the Pier (SC), which wasn’t even breaking. Creek was the least crowded I had seen it all summer. So there were about 6 guys in the water. The only rideable waves were to the south, by the rocky point that I usually avoid… you see where this is going, do you?
Young Guns – North Shore
Gotta love this:
Nightriders Surf Event 2010 from Rob Kelly
I hate that I missed Nightriders this year–drinking beers on the beach while watching this is so much fun–but here’s a cool little video from Rob Kelly:
“The Surf Club at Guido Beach, NJ hosted the second annual Nightriders event. Teams of two went out and whipped each other into waves to please the crowd on Friday night of July 23rd. @robkellysurf”
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Nightriders Surf Event 2010, posted with vodpod
Tuesday at Trestles
Tagged big, california, Photos, san clemente, surf, surfing, swell, trestles, uppers, waves
Semi Mixed-Up Midway Ruminations
Here’s some nonsense from the intern log I had to write for NYU:
I have sand in my car. In the cup holders and the back seat. I have sand in my sheets, though I just washed them. I have sand on my bedroom floor and in my backpack. The ports of my computer are jammed with sand. There is sand in all of the pockets, of all of my clothes. In my ears, in my eyes. I’m sure there’s sand in my sinuses.
—
I arrived at LAX for the first time on a Sunday, around lunchtime. I procured my criminally overpriced rental car and managed to find my way to the 405 South: what seems to be, upon initial inspection, the most unstable freeway in the continental United States. The weird, grated concrete feels a lot less safe when driving a borrowed Ford Focus between hurried Californians hurtling along at completely unreasonable speeds.
With a sigh of relief, I pulled off the freeway into San Clemente. There were literally surfboards everywhere. I saw an old Porsche with a board strapped to the roof and fell in love a little bit.
Surf 24
I can’t tell you how awesome it was to see Shaun Tomson or Sam Trammel at Surf 24 on ISD. But I can tell you how eerie Huntington Pier, weirdly, is not at 3 a.m. I can tell you how there were guys in mummy bags sleeping (or trying to) on the sand, and how tired watchdogs were checking for wristbands, but unwilling to chase anyone down who couldn’t show one. I can tell you that the waves were slightly sloppy, about waist-high. That they crept out of the darkness and picked up many a resolute rider, powering through the witching hour.
I can tell you that Billabong ultimately won, but that the mood, at least in the middle of the night, was one of drowsy solidarity.
One Session. Seven Waves. with Brendan Buckley.
Yet another great little clip from Carmen Vicari:
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more about “One Session. Seven Waves“, posted with vodpod
Water, Water Everywhere And Not A Drop To Drink 