"What do you grab?" Hannah Teter on Letterman

Snowboarder/Badass Hannah Teter on David Letterman.

You gotta check this out...hilarity.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0t-FK4V9hgY

JUST DO IT: CARISSA MOORE JOINS NIKE

Surfing has been culture based since its birth. Its always differentiated itself from other alternative sports in that the attitude is light-hearted, the playing ground is facilitated by Mother Nature, and the material is modest. But as supported by Laird Hamilton’s sponsorship with American Express, Reef Macintosh’s sponsorship with Audi, and now 17 year old Carissa Moore’s change in sponsorship from women’s surfing brand Roxy to athletic brand giant Nike, surfing has matured to its stage of teenage rebellion.
A bigger brand like Nike no doubt provides a bigger paycheck. Nike promises Carissa increased travel opportunities, reaching more surfing destinations while working around her busy school schedule. The brand can also promise her stability in this relentless recession.
And Nike wants Carissa to represent the brand. She blended in with the rest of “the most influential surfers of the year” on the cover of the December 2008 issue of SURFER magazine. She recently beat seven-time world champion Layne Beachley in the final to become the youngest Reef Hawaiian Pro Champ. She is the leader of the pack in the new generation of women’s surfing.
Nike has told the surfing industry to “Just do it,” by sponsoring several of Hawaii’s rising stars: Kauai’s Koa Smith, Maui’s Monyca Byrne-Wickey and now O’ahu’s Carissa Moore. So now the surfing industry welcomes the brand that has already tapped into every popularized sport across the globe, carrying high-profile representatives. It has Lebron James, Tiger Woods, the Williams sisters, and it wants Moore.

SURFER POLL AWARDS 2008

Although Hilary Clinton’s name has been dropped from the presidential race, there is still one ballot boasting female candidates. That’s right, it’s time for the Surfer Poll Awards of 2008.
The Surfer Poll has an impressive history of women winners, all eleven female surfers crowned in the history of the Poll also have world titles to their names.
Four-time world champion Lisa Andersen won the award record seven times, followed by South African Frieda Zamba and Californian Margo Godfrey-Oberg who collected five Poll Awards each.
Other impressive names include seven-time world champ Layne Beachley and South African Wendy Botha who has three Poll Awards and four world titles.
September 9th marks the 36th anniversary of the Surfer Poll Awards, which added a women’s division in its second year running. Pioneer surfer Joyce Hoffman was the first woman to take home the award and followed by winning two, consecutive world titles in ’65 and ’66.
Powerful Peruvian Sofia Mulanovich is the woman to beat. She has carried the Poll title since 2005 and currently leads the ASP World Tour. Watch the Surfer Poll September 9th!

Roxy Jam Honolulu

2008 ASP women’s world longboard champion Joy Monahan continued her winning year with a first place finish at the Roxy Jam Honolulu.
The 22 year old has a well deserved, $2,000 check from the three-star WQS event to take back to college in Utah next week.

The Jam was held at Queens Beach in Honolulu, one-two foot waves peeling down the line with Diamond Head in the background. The historic stomping grounds of the original beach boys was occupied Aug. 20-22nd by 80, women longboarders from around the world with a beach packed with spectators to catch the action.

“The turnout for the event was amazing,” said Jen Smith who finished ninth overall. The Roxy Jam Honolulu stands as the only ASP longboard event that Smith of San Diego, has yet to win but she had only good things to say about her competitors after the event. “Joy stood out of course,” said Smith, “She had one wave in the final that looked absolutely flawless to me. I never get to see the Hawaiian girls at contests, there is so much talent that you wouldn’t know about it if you didn’t spend a little time at Queens in the summer.”

It was apparent that Joy Monahan has spent many summers at Queens, born and raised in Honolulu. “The waves are always fun at Queens,” she said. “But, I do wish it was more consistent.”

Roxy rider Kelia Moniz, also known as “Sis” earned a spot on the podium as well. In the all-Hawaiian final 15 year old Moniz earned a total of 13.29 points, shy of Monahan’s 15.75. Geodee Clark took third with 11.17 points.
Crystal Dzigas, also of Honolulu, claimed the Schick Style Award and a check for $3,000. The event had a total of $8,000 in prize money for the longboarders in the Jam’s second year running.

The event was held as part of Duke’s Ocean Fest, a week-long celebration of surfing and water sports in memory of the great Duke Kahanamoku.

A word with the champ: Joy Monahan

Joy Monahan defeated 80 women longboarders to take first place in the Roxy Jam Honolulu held at Queens. Monahan, 22, is currently in her most-winning year, awarded the 2008 ASP women’s world longboard champion. The Honolulu-local claimed $2,000 of the $8,000 in prize money offered at the Jam. Here are some quick questions with the champ.

1) Q: Were there favorable conditions throughout the competition?
JM: The waves are always fun at Queens, even when they are small. But, I do wish that it was more consistent.

2) Q: How was the turn-out for the contest?
JM: There were a ton of girls. I didn’t know almost half of the girls who entered, which is great, because it means there are a lot more local girls getting involved with surfing.

3) Q: Coming into the Roxy Jam, who were you looking to beat?
JM: No one in particular. I was just hoping I could make the finals.

4) Q: Who stood out in this competition? Any surprises?
JM: I don’t think there were any surprises. All the girls who did well are great surfers.

5) Q: Do you think the Women’s Pro Longboard Tour is going to continue to grow?
JM: I hope so.

6) Q: Where are you headed once the Roxy Jam is finished?
JM: Back to school in Utah (BYU) in exactly one week.

On the Horizon...

Roxy Jam hits Honolulu August 20th and runs until the 23rd at Queens Beach in Honolulu. Watch the ladies rip, longboard-stylee with $5,000 up for grabs.

It's the second-annual with heavy-hitters Jen Smith, Kassia Meador, Julie Cox and the young and stylish Kelia Moniz.

Check it out first hand or online at http://www.roxy.com/

The Voyage of Hawaii's Super Ferry the Alakai: Honolulu to Kahului

The vessel, named the Alakai is certified by the United States Coast Guard, sound for sitting safely and prepped for safety supplies.
Arrived later than recommended and made it smoothly and quickly onboard. Ferry staff guided three lanes of cars onto the lower deck of the ferry.
There seemed to be few limitations for the state of vehicles boarded on the Ferry. SUV’s with longboards, Uhaul’s, trucks with men sitting in the bed, even trailers carrying 18 horses.
Ferry workers in orange vests directed drivers to tightly pack all vehicles on the lower deck.
On the way back there were fewer cars ahead of us but inspecting the car and checking our ID’s took longer. The woman working for Department of Land and Natural Resources (DLNR) licked our receipt and tried to stick it on the windshield twice. They checked the car registration, license, personal ID’s and vin # on the car.
The also asked about agriculture we were carrying, weapons or sharp objects. They walked around the perimeter of the car with a mirror to check underneath. There were also drug-sniffing dogs walked as vehicles waited to board Ferry.
Walked around and checked it out, plenty of seats vacant. The seating area consists of round and square tables seating 2-4 passengers and cushioned booths where some passengers stretched out for a nap. Others admired the view from the deck outside.

An instructional video with a local Hawaiian girl and Captain was played on the television screens. Captain Joe announced four foot North East trades swell and favorable conditions on the ride back.
Getting through the channel, the ride was horrible. Everyone was getting sick and the crew made continuous rounds to empty trashcans and mop puke off the deck. The aroma of puke on deck added to my nausea as I forced down a motion sickness pill.
I put my head down, took a pill and passed out. Even if you may not consider yourself someone that gets motion sickness when comparing the Super Ferry to other fairies such as in Washington, Canada or San Francisco, the Super Ferry had a rougher ride. They provide baskets of motion sickness pills if you need to Palu, throw-up, toss your cookies, puke, or ralf, there are also paper bags tucked next to the seats.
A woman clutches the wrist of her passed-out boyfriend. The heavy makeup on the asian woman’s face intensifies her worried expression. She picks up her cell phone as it buzzes across the table.
“Hi, I’m on the Super Ferry,” she tells her friend on the other side. “I’m actually glad you called me right now, I’m feeling pretty sick, distract me please.” She says.
On board there are two food and drink stands offering pastries, sandwiches, salads, pizza, and beverages including beer.
A small gift shop sits in the middle of the seating area stocked with Super Ferry memorabilia and Kona coffee.
The food was good and reasonably priced. I needed the coffee to warm up my stomach once they cranked up the air conditioning to relieve sickness and smell.
The ride got smoother.
Passengers and crew members stumbled down the aisles like drunkards. You have to get in rhythm with the ocean waves to make it back to your seat.
The staff is suited in light blue collared shirts with sting rays, dark pants and name tags. Crew members complete safety training and CPR certification along with orientation for their regular duties on the vessel. These skills are needed in the case of an incident occurring where the workers will become emergency personnel. Landis Lee, cabin attendant on the Super Ferry says most of the crew have previous experience on cruise lines as well.
Crew members tough out a few rocky trips before getting their sea legs, says Stewart Bronson Meyers, who completes three trips a week as a part-time employee on the ferry.
The water was a rich, deep blue as the ferry traveled through Maui, Lanai, Molokai, Niihau and O’ahu. We saw the highest sea cliffs in the world cruising past the natural, undeveloped Lanai. Coming back to the harbor in Honolulu we passed Koko Head, Diamond Head, Waikiki and Ala Moana.
There was always beautiful scenery to view from the deck or through the many windows.

Flying VS Ferry:
Round trip: Honolulu, O’ahu to Kahului, Maui, Wednesday- Saturday
Cost:
Flying Hawaiian: $145 For overweight bags (over 50 lbs) add $25 Car rental (compact) $203 (Must be 25 years old or extra fees apply.)
Ferry: $100 round trip ticket (soon to increase to $120), $130 round trip vehicle.
Convenience:
Flying: Faster (1 hour to 4 hours by ferry)
Ferry: Bring your own food and beverage and any belongings you wish with a vehicle. No need to wait for a ride to pick you up or worry about renting a car. Ferry has Wi-Fi and cell phone reception.
Eco-friendly:
Flying: Does not harm reef or marine life.
Ferry: Named “most energy-efficient way to travel between islands.”

Sources:
Landia Lee, Super Ferry Cabin Attendant
Bronson Meyers, Super Ferry Stewart

Stay Grounded: Delta increases board bag fees to $600

Delta Airlines have increased their board bag fees to $300 each way, costing surfers $600 roundtrip to travel with their board. This rate has instantaneously tripled from its previous $100 charge.
It’s extremely important to note this outstanding difference in fees. The cost of checking your board may surpass the amount of your ticket, skewing your traveling budget entirely.
Prices are increasing at every turn with the state of our economy, obviously with no exception when purchasing a ticket to fly a big steel bird halfway across the world. In conjunction with the rising cost of oil, airlines have increased the price of tickets and baggage fees with no exception to board bags.
But where is the justice in tripling the rates of surfboard bags, while checking golfing bags remain to be free of charge?
As many of us have experienced firsthand, airline workers do not sympathize with the atomic bomb being dropped on our wallets to board the plane with our necessary belongings, because yes, our surfboard is necessary.
Fortunately for surfers, we are not charged for “water time,” no multi-million dollar resort mongers are cashing in, each minute we spend in the line-up since our sport, passion, recreational-what-have-you is gratefully given to us by the ocean and natural causes. Could this be the underlying reason why surfers are getting hit with these charges while golfers are an exception?
The baggage fees are grim across the board for domestic travel. Four of the top airlines (American, Continental, Northwest, United) charge $100 one way for oversized baggage, with up to $250 tacked onto this price if your board is considered “excess baggage,” i.e. you have additional bags to check.
To minimize your travel expenses, research surf shops at your travel destination to see what rental surfboards they carry. Although there is no comparison to your personal quiver you’ve had dialed for years, shops such as Local Motion rent a variety surfboards of higher quality than a soft top.
Still fuming? Contact your preferred airline and voice your opinion as a valued customer.
http://www.delta.com/traveling_checkin/baggage/special_baggage/fragile_bulky/sporting_goods/index.jsp

"Yeah...you shoulda seen the jellyfish!"

I was swimming towards the shore on a postcard-perfect day on the north shore when I was shell-shocked. An ocean demon clung to my face and sent waves of burn and pain to my left temple, across my eye and down my cheek. It felt as if I were getting punched in the head repeatedly while simultaneously getting my eyelid tattooed. I would enjoy the rest of my Hawaiian vacation from a one-eyed pirate’s perspective.
The Portuguese man-of-war had a death grip on my face. After an unsuccessful attempt of wiping off the jellyfish tentacles underwater, my friend Sean used a towel to pull them off my face and untangle the toxic tentacles from my eyelashes. He then offered to “R Kelly it,” by pissing on the sting to relieve the burn. I may have been half blind and swelling like a blowfish but I still had my dignity, I told the girls to make sure he kept it in his boardshorts.
Darlina handed me a Corona to take the edge off while Kelsey, the Kauai-native, nurtured my burn with berries and Aloe she picked from the bushes. Two of my girlfriends sprinted down the stretch of beach to the lifeguard stand.
Expecting the sexy north shore lifeguards to come to my rescue like a scene out of Bay Watch, (where’s Jimmy Slade?) I was disappointed when they didn’t bother to come over because there was “nothing they could do.”
So I waited in vain, kicking the dashboard of the Jeep, as we inched in stop-and-go traffic down Kamehameha Highway to my friend’s house in Wailalua where I immediately took several shots of Tequila.
My nurses in bikinis poured water and vinegar over my eye that was now swollen shut, resembling Yoda. I held a towel of ice to my eye and temple as the recognition of pain weakened with the Tequila and Advil. (I would later learn that fresh water and ice actually spread the toxins and increase the burn.)
The left side of my face was swollen from my eyebrow to my nose, lip and cheek. My temple was cut and scabbed and blisters covered my eyelid and bagged underneath my eye.
Every so often someone would say, “let me see!” followed by “Ohh! Shit!” when I removed the towel. My nurses then fabricated a Rasta eye patch to hide my hideousness from the general public. I opted not to spend my last vacation hours in the hospital, boarding the plane to LAX with my trusty eye patch.
It was three days before the swelling decreased enough to peel my eyelid open to discover if I still had sight in my left eye. It was crusty with puss, horrifyingly disgusting, but my eye was clear and I could see.
I went to the health clinic at Long Beach State to get medication for the swelling. All the ladies at the office were horrified at the sight of my eye and didn’t know exactly how to treat it. I left with steroids that made me jittery and a phone number to an optometrist in case I went blind. At least I had a good story at the office.


JELLYFISH:
-Free-swimming, non-aggressive, gelatinous marine animals surrounded by tentacles.
-Tentacles are covered with sacs (nematocysts) filled with poison (venom) that can cause a painful to sometimes life-threatening sting.
-Usually found near the surface of water or washed up on shore.
-Many can be seen 8 to 10 days after a full moon when jellyfish have reproductive jelly gatherings.
-Over 200 types of jellyfish
-The most deadly are found in the Indo-Pacific and Australian waters.

STINGS:
-Jellyfish stings cause intense, stinging pain, itching, rash and raised welts.
-People stung may experience nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, lymph node swelling, abdominal pain, numbness/tingling, and muscle spasms.
-Severe reactions can cause difficulty breathing, coma and death.

DO:
1. Removed tentacles with tweezers or gloved hand.
2. Take Benadryl or pain medication to help itching and pain.
3. Soak or rinse the area in vinegar for 15-30 minutes to stop the nematocysts from releasing their toxins.
4. Urinate on sting if vinegar is not readily available.
5. Apply shaving cream or paste of baking soda to area. Shave area with razor or credit card to remove nematocysts that have not release their toxin.
6. Seek medical care if person has difficulty breathing, swallowing, voice changes, or large area of stings.

DO NOT:
Use fresh water this will cause the nematocysts to continue to release their toxin.
For the same reason, do not apply ice or hot water.

Sources:
Emedicinehealth.com

Sunset Worship

I watched the sun set almost every night of the week while living in Hawaii. I sat on my roof that was on this great ridge, seven degrees cooler up in the sky than its base along University of Hawaii.
I looked out over the skyline of Honolulu as the clouds crept in, seeping into the valleys and down the mountain. The sun danced different colors of light across the clouds as they broke and formed various shapes and lines. The ocean reflected these brilliant colors and bounced off the city structures.
As the last minutes of sunlight ticked by, the sky shifted scenes like a slow-moving kaleidoscope, transforming into several plays of colors and shapes.
Sometimes I was at other places, other shores as the sunset. Sitting on the sand of the north shore the brilliant ball would split as it set on the edge of Kaena Point. From the East Side the sun would disappear early behind the mountains and cast shadows over the colder shore. The skies would fade to a purple tint before burning out completely like a tired flame.
Watching the sunset from my roof gave me a promised peace. Facing southeast I knew the time and place this magnificent show in the sky would occur. Unlike the ocean, whose waves were fickle, the sun must set to divide the days.
You may consider dawn as the fresh, rejuvenation of life to its opposite, dusk, but as I soak up the radiance, the grace of the sun leaving the sky, it gave meaning to life each and every night.
I thought, if only people realized the brilliance that takes place above their heads every night, if only they stopped what they were doing, walked outside the structures and looked up, maybe the negative energy of the day could be released.
Like the practice of daily worship to Mecca, without the divisiveness religion harbors, I imagine people from across the world looking up and appreciating the peaceful, serenity in the sky.
I feel strain from living in the city. My lungs tighten and it’s hard to breathe, maybe its caused by the Los Angles air triggering my asthma, but maybe its because I’ve been missing the sunset for days at a time.
Sitting on the floor of the upper level of Border’s books I peered out the window at the periwinkle sky as the last light of day shone behind a palm tree. I realized I have become one of those people I pitied, one of those people that didn’t appreciate the closing of daylight. Café Americana clutched in my hand, I cried on the carpeted floor of Border’s, and vowed never to let something as silly as buildings stand in the way of my worship of the sunset.

Bummin

I caught a lot of waves today but one thing really bummed me out after my session. Was it my throbbing head from getting conked in the cranium with my board? No. Was it mistakening a dolphin for a shark and making a mad dash to the shore? Nope. It was stepping on a used condom in the parking lot, BAREFOOT. Dood, that's a real bummer.

Right hand woman

Officially living in Long Beach now, I'm lucky I can to go to the beach every day. I found some waves past the Orange County line, before the metered madness of Huntington Beach. I've taken a liking to paddling out from the beaches of rich neighborhoods. You see the thing about rich people is there are always working for their money and never have time to enjoy their hard earned beach front home.
I'm young and enjoy the freedom that goes along with my youth, so I figure I'll surf there every day and they can live vicariously through me. And then when they have time on the weekends to surf I'll smile and snake em :) just kidding. Kinda.
So today I pulled into the for-the-price-of-free parking spot next to a dude in his thirties pulling a hefty longboard from his Explorer. He wore a fisherman's hat with a Clash iron-on. I start unloading my crap and we small talk. He introduced himself as Robert and stuck out his fist for me to pound I went for a handshake, we fumbled back and forth maybe three awkward attempts until we eventually shook hands.
I turned back to my drunk and he opens his back passenger door. "Woah!" he says, "this door hasn't opened in years, I shake your hand and it starts working again!"
"I've got the magic touch" I smile at him. He says I must have some kind of crazy luck. Maybe I do.
The water was choppy, I need to get my rear in gear earlier to avoid the afternoon wind. The waves were an inconsistant 3 foot with the occasional 4 foota out the back. I dashed into the water in my bikini to test the water- a little chilly so I slipped into my 3/4 wetsuit before paddling out.
Like the neglected step child my 6'6" sat in my parents' garage for three years without a day in the sun. It's since been upgraded to my only shortboard in California, my favorite toy. It's been a minute since I've surfed a board shorter than 7' so I'm wobbling like a turkey the first few waves I take off on. I love sitting on the inside at this break, I can turn and catch the wave just as it jacks up, pump it a little and ride it until I get tossed onshore, buddha bless the sandbars.
I caught a couple lefts and a right that pushed me into a baby-air chop hop from the choppy face. I got tossed as I pulled into a close-out wave, I reached with my arm towards the surface as the nose of my board shot into the palm of my hand, blocking the temple of my head. Even though I previously stuck a rubber noseguard on the tip of my board, a blow to the head would be no bueno.
I caught a coupple more waves before I flopped onshore like a beached seal next to a group of keikis screaming bloody murder each time the shorebreak rolled over their feet. I stuck my board into the sand and watched the wind destroy the curling waves. I kept staring down at my right hand as if asking it for an explanation, "so you're lucky now or what?" Maybe its because it's the first day I've worn these two new rings I bought last night. On my thumb I have a crazy silver swiggly ring and on my road rage finger I have a silver rose ring. Are they lucky? Is my right arm lucky? Is it because I ate my cereal out of my coffee mug after my third cup? I don't know... leave it to E news, with Britney Spears' life looking a little more stable they need another story to over analyze.

barreling bowls

I saw this video of Bowls this morning. The break on the south shore of O'ahu is fully barreling and look how many people are out in the water!! Nutty! My friend used to try to convince me to surf Bowls with him summer mornings before I had to bolt to class. I've been stuck on the inside at Bowls and knocked my head on the reef, got torn up a little bit.
Bowls is definitely an intermediate-advanced break. You need to have general waterman/waterwoman knowledge to get to paddle to the lineup and find your way back to it once you've rode a wave in.
This break is in town so when there is a swell you best believe it's a full line-up of ducks bobbing in the water. I've seen it mostly local, a lot of groms with their friends ripping better than I ever expect to.
After hearing my friends in Hawaii talk up the south-hemi swell over the weekend I checked out this video and had the reaction, "Oooo.....ahhh.....wahhhh....oh!" See if yours resonates this.
http://www.surfline.com/video/video_player/video_player.cfm?id=15186

Surfer Girls Wanted

Howzit-
I start interning at Surfer Magazine in June, super excited! I would love to write for Surfer and learn all I can from them but ultimately I want to start my own women's action sports magazine. You best believe, I will succeed :) Anyone that wants to jump on this please contact me, I would love the support.
blissboarder@gmail.com

The Elite of Surfers.

Remember when surfers were considered beach bums? When one pair of trunks or a one-piece lasted years, when beards were untamed and a beer traditionally followed a session?
Surfers are no longer citizens of the bum class; we have elaborate boats with helicopter pads, cocktail parties on the lawns of mansions, hell the Bra Boys made the top 10 on E!
Surfers and friends of the environment gathered April 23rd for a charity auction supporting the Kelly Slater Foundation. The auction was held at Marty Colombatto's mansion in California and props to everyone that supported the event, they raised over $350,000 as Eddie Vedder and holder of 8 world titles,Kelly Slater, entertained the crowd of 600.
30 years ago surfers would have been the ones jumping the fence to skate the empty pool of the mansion, not being invited onto the lawn for drinks and bids of $46,000. I must include, however, surfers and environmental activists (wealthy hippies) were loyal to the attire of an elite bum.
Check out the article on surfline: http://www.surfline.com/surfnews/article_bamp.cfm?id=14987

Wax on, wax off

My Honda Civic suffered some major cosmetic damage on the islands. Every fender, door, etc on the driver’s side is crunched in (from four separate incidents) while plastic from the front bumper sadly hangs like a fat lip.
I do not hesitate to admit I am a horrible parker but my two-door black civic, Duncan, was the reliable beach shuttle. I constantly drove a full car, surfboards strapped on the roof, body boards, skim boards and camping gear overflowing the trunk while four passengers trusting their lives to my cheetah speed and quickness of a cat.
Guaranteed there is about two lbs of sand encrusted in the upholstery of the seats. One of my surfing buddies was kind enough to leave me two sticks of wax in my cup holder on an average, tropical day in Hawaii. That cup holder has been out of service for a year. Then there is the genius that decided to stick a football in my back window for a week. A print of the leather dots is lamented to my window as a reminder.
I did, however, recover from one of the damages to Duncan hence the purpose of this story. The sun constantly melts wax from the boards on my roof causing waxy-goo-rain drops to fall onto my windshield and roof. My friend also left a note on my drivers window with a stick of wax that has been there since last July.
So I figured out how to get this goo off. I found a canned, potent-spelling liquid in my garage cabinet that takes off tree sap. This works beautifully. Dab a little (really, only a little) onto a rag and buff it out. Duncan still has some of his dignity.

Living in LA

Could I live in SoCal? Fighting traffic and development, fighting waves and parkings spaces, on the brink of technology, borderline Hollywood and bright yellow Ferrari’s, designer labels that don’t reflect the state of the economy. Where women tote their dogs and put a price on their flaws and rewrite definitions of reality. Could I sign my name to a life in urban paradise filled with socialites with bulbs bursting bright as their photograph is taken while getting a Frappacino Lite. Could I live in SoCal? Where the islands are a memory, a vacation from insanity, stuck in a bottle floating in the water next to me, as I catch waves in the pollution haze in SoCal.

Mourning in March

Working and going to school 9 hours a day, 5 days a week has been a bummer! I made it out to Bolinas on Sunday but the waves were small and super on shore. I am dying to get some shortboard time in!
Pray for weekend surf!

the Nine to Five Grind

On the up side I have a job, and I can begin paying off the debt to my parents I owe for a ridiculous number of parking tickets in Honolulu.
On the down side, I have been stuck indoors for WAY TOO LONG! I'm not cut-out for this behind-a-desk thing.
On the....(middle side?) the water has gotten colder, the wind has picked up and I'm going to Southern California this weekend! woo hoo!
Huntington Pier looks pretty sweet on the surf cams, I need some waves!!

Fork in the Road

The fog was beginning to roll into the bay, the wind blowing over the water creating chop that slapped against my epoxy longboard as I waited for the wave that would bring me to shore.

Local, middle aged men sat on the cement walkway on the shore, painted like a cave dwelling of hippies. The mens' legs dangeled over the side as they sipped beer.

Dogs sprinted up and down the beach, free from leashes and looking to play. rented soft tops scattered across the rocky shoreline.

I sat alone at "the patch," kicking my bootied feet in the cold water, tapping my sunburnt hands on my eight foot board. It was way easier to manuever on these small waves now that I took my side fins off, as some guy suggested I do last time I surfed.

I shipped my Bonga Perkins board from Honolulu when I moved back, I had gotten the board at Local Motion for my birthday and grew attached to green "Irie;" I was stunned that a guy had a replica of my board at this spot in the bay area, and a little irritated that he could turn with more grace than I.

I caught a small wave curling left, walked the board a little and dipped a bottom turn to hang five facing the wave. Bolinas is almost all lefts, I'm stoked to grab a right whenever I can.

I rode the wave in, stripped off my worn, wetsuit and headed inland. The roads back to town are all twisting, turning, bending and broken asphault roads, begging you to test the handling of your car. The view scenery is unbeatable, classic NorCal with rolling grassy hills reflecting in the creeks and every size, shape and color cow there is.

I was surprised to see a hitch-hiker at the fork of Bolinas and Stinson Beach, let alone an attractive hitch-hiker my age. I had been meaning to balance my karma after catching rides on the islands, this guy looked like good karma.

Medium built with tanned skin, he leaned into my car as I rolled down my window.

"Fairfield?" he asked. His head was shaved, face tanned and a hemp necklace.

"Santa Rosa," I told him, "I can take you like 15 minutes down the way."

"Sounds good," he tossed his backpack off his shoulder and climbed in. "Gary," he stuck out his hand.

"Jenna, nice to meet you, man" I could tell in his eyes he wasn't going to push me out of the car and take off with Duncan...(my car.)

I took a few hard turns and promised I wouldn't kill him. He laughed, apparently not fazed. (I'll admit I was a little disappointed.) He tells me he used to drive this old truck, his dog as copilot, and drove across the country drinking beers. Touche. (two-shay).

I noticed he had ink on his forearm. I did like, three, fast, glances before I realized it was the Hawaiian Islands. At this time I assumed we were meant for each other and would get married and have a house in both our favorite places and cruise with our dogs and surf the rest of our lives.

He went to high school in Poipu Shore, Kaua'i, the area my family and I used to rent a condo almost every year. He moved to the mainland after getting in trouble in Waikiki, which is not too hard after one-too-many mai tai's.

We chatted it up, taked about relationships and work, how much computers suck and reggae, photography and writing. His stop definately came too soon.

We shook hands again as he climbed out of the car where the roads fork to Petaluma and another 15 minutes of cows and hills.

I sped down the country road, dumb-struck of the irony of it all, meeting someone in the cows that I could have just as easily met in a bar in Waikiki, along the beach of flourescent tubes and tourists.

In A Fog

Monday morning of Lincoln’s birthday: which initially I mistook for a holiday from class and decided to spend it as such anyway.
Rolling Stones blaring,I sped to the coast to get a surf session in before class. Reaching the beach by a foggy, 10 a.m., I parked on the side of the highway and made the mile long walk, avoiding the $5 fee at the toll booth.
There was hardly 30 foot visability through the morning fog, I couldn’t tell if I was the only person on the beach for miles. Birds and seals were the only exception of life in the desolate fog.
I sat and stretched for a while, hoping for at least one other soul to appear in case I am grabbed by the fog and dragged to White Shark land. An old man walked out of the brush and took a seat on the wooden bench near the path. Good enough for me.
I trotted down to the water line and ran through the waist-high water at a snail’s pace, fighting the cold current to make my way to the first beach break.
The first duck dive is always a shocker-the water rushes to my head and takes my breath away before I have to duck again for the next wave.
The waves were bigger than my last surf attempt, building up to three feet before pouring over, closing out over the shallow sand.
After watching the Drive-thru Carribean dvd I pulled some Donovan-inspired maneuvers, entertaining a woman walking her feline-sized dog. After surfing for an hour or so I made my way back up the road, dodging off the road as obese RV chugged along the country road.
I pulled the key out of its trusty hiding place, unlocked the doors and began the transformation from rubber seal to student.
After peeling off my booties and wetsuit I shut my door and maneuvered my epoxy longboard onto the roof of the Civic.
Stoked to change into some warm clothes I pulled my door handle, but the door was locked. They both were.
“Dammit! Not again!” I yelled to the fog. I am notorious for locking the keys in the car, maxing out my AAA membership benefits each year.
So there I was-shivering on the side of the highway in my bikini. Since time traveling was not yet discovered, I walked to the nearest lodge and spa to use their phone.
The guy at the desk dialed the number and didn’t ask any questions. He did not happen to offer a blanket, either.
Hair dripping wet, sand-covered feet, I walked back through the fog to my car with nothing to do but wait. I lounged across my trunk and back window and prayed for the sun to break through.
I was amazed at how many people drove past without offering help. I guess I wasn’t giving off the damsel-in-distress vibe. Closing my eyes, I waited for my knight-in-shiny-tow truck
He happened to be a surfer, we talked about the waves as he jimmied a rubber wedge into the door frame.
“Looks like someone’s done this a lotta times” he observed by the flimsy rubber securing my door.
He used a wire to pop the lock up within minutes, I grabbed my sweatshirt ASAP and headed back into town.
It’s not the wave. It’s the journey.