Detritus...

The Post-millennial Grommets breathe new life. Pic: BA-->

Awake. Produce. Repeat.

Each day finds an odd haze hanging over it. The weight of expectation, exertion, evaluation becomes a rote path. One moment is left behind as the next is anticipated. So rarely is a moment let to ring until its simple song is spent. Episodes pile up like driftwood, memories of living things worn smooth and innocuous by powers greater-than. Flotsam reaches the shore. Sea-scraps accumulate.

Then someone walking along the beach picks up the discarded and forgotten bits. Fashioned by an inspired mind, the memories and moments take on new life and meaning. The visionary act of reinvention and re-invigoration breathes new life.

Scale for personal use. Apply as necessary. Work, play, family, expression, success, all need a bit of re-invigoration when the time i'swell.

Feeling the kneed...

1977, Huffman, Rex. The Banzai Pipeline. Oahu, Hawai'i. Photo: Jeff Divine.

Flat, short, wide, keeled and kneeled.

In the middle of a satisfying session it happens. You've been enjoying some speed runs, turns, and stylish this'n'thats. You're feeling good about your surfing. You're in rhythm, you've got a flow. You even start to feel a couple of sets of eyes watching you. All is right with in the salty sea.

Then it happens. The peak down the beach gets bombed by a beaut. Overhead and hollow. Only that mysto-kneelo is down there, where only he tends to lurk. He's too deep. He'll pass it up. He'll never make the late drop. Oh, well, maybe he's going to try it. Oh, wow, he made the drop. Oh, damn. He's deepish. Oh, yeah. He's going to make it. Perhaps he's on to something.

Knees if you please.

Half-stance for a chance.

Cripple-style for a while.

Half-man is the plan.

Turns high-g for li'l ol' me.

Find each little barrel a true kneelo-style feral.

I'll pass on the fins, though. I like to standup on those kneesleds too.

Speak, Memory...

Image Heist from Ryan Field Photography (Kllr Px)

1995. The Jewel,CA.

My daily fun was headfirst, with an eye for an almond-exit. Lounge, VJourneys, GoodLuck Reef, and Retirement Heaven were my favorite haunts. Sea grass on the knees and finless tunnel hunting was the norm.

Low tide Little Left, adjacent to Hydrodynamic Innovator Reef. I'm done with my fun but see a nice right over yonder. I kick my boogie over to the racy little reef and meet a nice barrel as a welcome gift. Then the fun really begins.

I paddle back out and am greeted by two JewelBox Locals. Apparently I am at a place I shouldn't be. Apparently this spot is Kalifornia Kapu. I inquire a bit and am taught about the eponymous reef's history. In a none-so-friendly manner I am asked to leave. I believe the exact words were, "You're going to get a surfboard up your..."

Of course I stayed for one more wave. Of course I did.

I'm so thankful to my boogie years. The time spent in the heart of the beasts taught me a love for the ocean more intimate than breathing. As soon as you stand on your feet there is a separation, a loss.

I'm 90% standup today, but I enjoy the other 10% immensely.