Archive for July, 2006
We were traipsing around one of the local food marts, the other day, when we ran across organic milk. It’s called ‘Biorganic’ and it’s honest-to-goodness, pure organic milk. We’re not much for milk drinkers but I do love my morning espresso and a good bowl of Basic-4. In Mexico, the milk comes in square-box, liter, packaging, at room temperature. It doesn’t really taste all that much like milk. Marcia immediately remarked how strong the Biorganic milk tasted. That’s what you get when the cows eat real grass.
Up and above the taste debate, to me it’s a very interesting premise to see organic products slowly start to make their way on to grocery store shelves. People love their big brands, here in Mexico, even those brands whose products aren’t particularly healthy. And milk is certainly one of those products. The milk industry has even less restrictions then in the US with even more power over the food chains. I found Biorganic milk stashed away, next to the cookie aisle of all places, nowhere near the milk aisle. Figures.
8:15am wake-up. no sound of waves hitting the beach, 2 blocks away. But promise of said impending swell, gets me out of bed for the glassy morning session. Once again, back to the same spot as yesterday after. The water was calm and beautiful, glassy as can be, as I looked down the beach at the break, a few hundred meters away, I could see one person out and not a single wave. Not one little ripple, for ten minutes. So i grabbed my bag of mild disappointment and headed home.
Along the way, on the windy jungle road, I lightly swerved to miss all the land crabs scurrying across the asphalt. It’s the rainy season and the crabbies are in full bloom. The road is a patchwork of whitish-yellow-beige spots were some weren’t so fortunate.
Farther down the road a ‘Quatimundi’ family gallops on to the road. Quatimdundis look and move like slender monkeys with a very long ringed tail, kept high in the air, their long whiskered snouts low to the ground. The mother, the largest, moves across the road in a blur of speed, the size of a labrador. Three babies followed, the size of large cats and two males to fill out the end of the party, the size of smaller labs. As I drove by where they had gone into the jungle, I had hoped to see a lieutenant that stayed behind to make sure I didn’t follow. but no luck.
As I came out of the jungle into La Cruz, i was stopped on the road by two ranchers, trying to wrestle a bull cow that had obviously escaped his pen and followed by two of his most adoring fans. The three steers were running down the street, trying their best to avoid the ranchers’ lassos as the ranchers chased on foot, one barely able to keep his unbuttoned pants on straight, no shirt, flapping panza (beer gut).
As I got to the one street light intersection in La Cruz, an old doggy crossed the road in search of this mornings’ breakfast, with her six swinging utters flopping beneath her. A mother’s work is never done.
Sometimes, the journey is the destination.
I’ve been hearing reports of a swell coming in this weekend. So yesterday afternoon I grabbed the fish and headed out to burry-toes. There were small sets rolling in at like 3 feet or so. Nothing spectacular but enough to have a good day of surfing. My second wave was a nice ride as i rollercoastered up and down the lip a few times. Catching the crest of the breaking wave, i had a nice little floater over the white water that brought me back down to the bottom and then carved my way back up to the crest. That one wave was all i needed to make the trip worth it.
There was one visiting surfer in the water, probably from southern california, the guy insisted on battling it out for every wave that came in. serious chip on his shoulder, the guy would catch the big wave of the set then paddle right out to the line-up and sit 10 feet in front of me. I just don’t have any patience for people like that. Mr. Competitive-California-Surfer, you can take your wack attitude and shove it right up your tuckas. sucka foo.
Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Well, We’ve finally landed safely back in our typical little mexican beachfront community. I have lots to report and a ton of pictures to edit, process, edit, process, upload and to post. It’ll take me some time but they’re a comin’.
We rolled into town yesterday mid-day and I still don’t think we’re quite back yet. it just feels so strange, like we’re ghosts or something. here in physical but not quite in spirit. tried to go surfing yesterday, but no waves hampered the fun. it was just nice to get back into the water again. Although since we’ve been gone, the rains have turned the whole place into a steaming jungle and dripping sweat 24/7 is au-riguer. Every thing is bursting with green and the water is a soupy caldo of mild pulses coming from the south and rain run-off water muddying up everything.
Still, we be happy to be back. more updates to come.
Ya see, when you hang out with a bunch of non-surfing types, it’s easy to be dissuaded from things like surfing in cold water. Think about it, cold foggy, cold water, small waves. why would you want to subject yourself to that? and the sharks?!
Bolinas is the local spot for my good buddy, Tim Rosa, who called me up today to drag me out to his local surf spot, right off the main channel. At first I was hesitant, sleepy from working off a heavy lunch. But what proper surfer could pass up a direct offer to hit up the local spot. I called Tim back, he picked me up and we were on our way, the car loaded down with two longboards.
We briefly talked about the “Shark” issue. Tim’s advice: just put your thoughts about sharks into a little black box and lock it away somewhere. good advice.
A full 4mm wetsuit and boots actually kept me pretty damn warm. As we hit the water, it took me at least ten minutes to be able to put my hands in the water for more then a few seconds. As I made my way out to the break, I tucked my hands into the arms of the wetsuit just to be able to paddle. Icy pain shooting through them. After twenty minutes or so, I actually got used to the cold water and at some point, my hands were not that cold. With a thick wetsuit on, cold water surfing is something kinda like snowboarding on a cold windy day. not much worse.
I managed to grab a few foot high waves, one particular ride was super nice as I got in the pocket and enjoyed a nice long ride with good style. All it takes it that one ride, to make it all worth it. Watching the locals all out there, surfing those waves, serious, yes, very serious. The way they handled the small waves, they could have been one foot or five feet, the locals were all business. I felt a little rookie-ish. Two or three locals had excellent form, I was in awe of their grace.
The scenery was amazing. A south facing beach with a point to the west. The fog floating over the point towards the south-east. Just to be sitting out there in the water would have been worth it all by itself. With the horizon sending little waves our way, a surfer’s mandala, turning around to face the coastline, the northern California is more beautiful then I can possibly describe.
Surfing Bolinas will be an experience I’ll never forget. Not only for the surfing but for the idea of opening up my mind to surfing places that don’t involve warm water, warm air and five to six foot swells. Surfing isn’t about the weather conditions, it’s about the experience. Part physical exercise, part fun, part exhilaration, part meditation, part nature walk, surfing is the ultimate fusion of unique bits that stand all on their own, making a unified whole, I’d use the word “orgiastic” to describe it, but I’m like using more simple vocabulary. Surfing is the shit. period. cold water, warm water. doesn’t matter.
As we sat in the lineup the occasional thought of sharks did pass my mind and each time, I crammed them back into my little black box and stomped up and down on the sucker with fierce determination.
Thanks Tim!
We’re now in Bolinas, a small little hippie community in Marin, about a half hour north of San Fran. I love this grouchy little town, the kind of place where the locals take the down the turn-off signs from the highway to dissuade weekend warriors from entering this intentional backwater.
We are renting a cool little cabin with my parents and my sister. Relaxing from a harrowing two weeks of waiting for the stupid escrow to close. and enjoying walks, hikes, movies, familial conversation (the occasional argument) and food. what else is there? surfing. i’ve been casing the local surf breaks, but between the near frigid water temps, the great whites that frequent the local breaks and the literal one foot-high waves, i’ve decided against it. call me a fair-weather friend, i’m just a sucker for 80 degree water temps.
I have a thousand pictures to edit, process, edit etc… it’s sad that i can’t do it on my laptop. the local signage in Bolinas is worth it, alone. getting some great pictures, almost like a bread crumb trail of images documenting our footsteps through california.
and we adventure on….
This is huge!: Channel Islands Surfboards merges with Burton. That’s amazing. The maker of the surfboards I ride, decides to merge with the maker of the snowboards I ride. wow. Let’s hope things don’t change to much at CI, I love their boards. I wonder if this has anything to do with Clark Foam shutting down. [via Stevey]
So we’re here in Los Angeles enjoying our time. Yet both of us have a feeling like we’re caught in a holding pattern, awaiting landing instructions. The house escrow was supposed to be closed on Friday, something went awry so we are expecting to close on Thursday (long weekend). Because of this, we basically came to LA a week early. Don’t get me wrong, I love LA, but the city is a sticky-sweet affair best kept at small doses. My good buddies James and Ben have graciously given us their apartment to stay in, while they are up in the bay area. It’s an ideal situation. We get to be extended house guests without getting in the hair of our friends. I can’t imagine the bill of having to stay in a hotel. Thank you boys!
I’m not taking as many pictures as I would like, while we’ve been here and yesterday I missed the most amazing “Typical Los Angeles” shot. I kicked myself for a half-hour afterward for having forgotten the camera on this particular day. I’m not even gonna describe it, just one moment, lost in time, recorded somewhere in the back of my brain.
4 turntablists from Paris, collectively known as Birdy Nam Nam, create song called “Absesses” for DMC Championship and win. The song pretty much lays waste to any argument that says that djs are not traditional musical artists in the vain of guitarist, drummers, etc… And the song is amazing with several breakdown and transitions. And you gotta love the name (a reference to Peter Sellers’ character in the The Party. eggselent!
