The tail end of the swell that exploded against the California coast this week working through Malibu yesterday afternoon.
Uni to go.
We weren’t the only ones stoked by the surf. The powerful long period swell had rolled urchins ashore up and down the beach. Between sets I watched seagulls fight over the food delivered by waves born some 11,000 miles away. It’s alive!
In idle musings I’ve wondered in jest how big wave surfers are physically able to lay on a board and paddle with such big balls. I now have new material to ponder in my downtime. How does a guy paddle after swallowing a mooring buoy?
I’ve actually crossed paths with this crusty ‘ol beach loc many times over the years. I tend to see him during big wave events it seems, usually at Rincon wielding his massive board around the cobblestones or down the trail. That’s not to say I’ve ever seen him catch a wave. But he’s at the beach.
His unkempt appearance and filthy clothes match the look of his van. It’s the look of neglect not need. Indifference. I’d hazard a guess that he probably has a decent share of free time, although it seems he doesn’t afford many minutes on his outward appearance and other such trivial matters. His attention is focused on something else. He surfs. He’s always there.
I was walking back along the water’s edge at the lagoon when the still surface rippled like a bow wave. For a split second I thought it was a cormorant swimming underwater fishing. I had seen one snatch a fish earlier.
Then nothing surfaced. Again, more ripples. Something was definitely swimming just below the surface of the shallow pool. I stood there for longer than anything could possibly hold it’s breath and nothing ever surfaced.
I never caught a glimpse of what it was, but it looked like whatever caused the ripples was a decent sized fish of some sort. Probably washed in during the high tide and big surf. I can’t imagine what else it could of been, because it was something alive and it wasn’t a bird.
Streaking home along the PCH.
Throwin’ lures for flatties on a late afternoon rising tide.
Jack Elliott's Santa Barbara Adventure 