different shores

if it were a matter of distance

i would swim

and if it were a matter of terrain

i would tip toe

to the edge

and perhaps when the time

came you

would toss me

the line or send the raft

no matter the storm

Sacagawea ( for Jodi Geren)

you were the compass,

guiding us towards happiness

even though we were afraid

of your gravity:

the heavy brightness of mother bear

lighting the darkness of heaven

arguing with god

or with reason--

now, you show us the way.

barefoot, unbound

you lead men across mountains and valleys

and now

(hundreds of years we've waited for this):

a time when we can forget children

gather our things

and leave.

no need to cleave the body:

sell or buy or trade your sugar.

braided hair

worn moccasins

walking until morning,

following the contours of desire

this is what they call liberation.

now, when elk die in your arms

their massive hearts in your hands--

feel the warm pulse,

the force of blood,

metallic earth,

the taste of life before death.

this is ours for the taking.

the north shore brah!!

As any surfer should, I have made the voyage to Mecca. Not to surf, but to partake in the spectacle, to ogle the scene and be awed by the courage and skill of those who aren't afraid of surfing waves taller than themselves.

A few days ago I went out to see part of the Volcom Pro at Pipeline. It was my first time there and I have to admit that there was a strange anticipation in my limbs as I rode the rusty mountain bike along the shady bike path that parallels Kam Hwy. I passed Ken Bradshaw and he gave me a smile, but because I am dumb about these things, and it wasn't until my friend Andy pointed it out to me that I realized I was in the midst of surf celebrity. Next we walked right by Kelly Slater who was sitting in a truck talking to some or another surfer.

The Volcom Pipe Pro was being held, at least for a few hours that day. The holding period is until Feb 4th... But on Saturday the waves were too big, too chaotic and to unruly to safely hold a contest, so they called it off after a handful of heats. We watched a few heats and marveled at the gutsy surfers who took off on wonky, big Pipeline... the swell that day was supposed to be around 8 feet, but ended up getting to 23 feet by the end of the day.

The amazing thing about Pipeline is that you can stand close to the action, even when it is huge.

Today I ventured out to Waimea Bay and watched the scene. It's a classic Hawaiian set up: white sand, huge waves, lava rock cliffs, beautiful palm tress, doves in the sky, rainbows in the clouds, and the sun cresting the mountains behind you as you take in the power of the sea. It's hard to get perspective at Waimea because the whole thing is happening farther away from you, but in case you need a reminder of what kind of intensity the ocean promises, the shore break there is probably 10 to 12 feet tall and shakes the beach as it thunders in. By 7 am there were close to 25 people in the water with more filing onto the beach with 10 foot guns. Some stand and watch with what I imagine is trepidation. Others just leash up, wait for a pause in the neck-breaking shore-pound and then charge out there. You don't realize how big the waves are until you see someone drop in and then imagine stacking that person's height again and again until you get to the top of the wave. Three or four persons tall, is what I imagined the wave to be... Somewhere in the neighborhood of 18 to 24 foot faces. Yeah!

I am impressed and humbled. This doesn't even feel like the same pass time that I love. In fact, it is not. I am a small wave lover. I will return to Oregon next week and surf my cold, 4-7 foot waves with a new respect for the birthplace of surfing, and a renewed love for my simple life on the Pacific Ocean.

shred it for real

photo by Terry Dillman

This is a real photo, taken a few days ago in Newport, Oregon. Keep the dream alive.

high pressure

all the pretty horses i can't ride because work has me fenced in this week.

free to good home

well-behaved oak book shelf seeking forever home. basic obedience training, house trained,
loves children and cats. we'd love to keep him, but life is just too crazy right now.

wave-improver

... we didn't like what we saw, so we grabbed some red wine, paddled the whole bottle out into the sea with us, and proceeded to get drunk in the ocean. the waves became "better" almost immediately. laughter, low-angle sun rays and an incoming drunk with friends is a sure way to turn mediocre waves into a world-class good time. this lasted until the brink of hypothermia, at which point we slogged back to the yurt to eat lentils, potatoes and curry: all waiting for us in the crock pot that i had the foresight to start in the morning before we left to check the surf.

after our bellies were full of stew, we crawled into our bunks and slept it off. 3 hours later we woke up to dark skies and light rain. we did a 2 hour night-hike around the cliffs of Cape Arago, amazed at the ocean's beauty-- the way it lit the cliffs and rocks with its whiteness and wave explosions. the day ended at midnight with ryan playing the ukulele in the yurt while faron and i devoured Ritter sport (hint, it's not actually a sport) as the rain and wind began to set in more heavily. i finished a Joan Didion memoir and fell asleep to the sound of an oncoming storm.