The Peen

The first time we walked down the path to Short Sands, Gee and I noticed a strange formation in the roots of one of the old growth trees. At first we laughed about it, joking that the old pines around here have gentile genitals, et-cetera, proceeding to "knock on wood," and create all manner of immature puns and wordplays to kill the next 20 minutes as we made our way to the beach. After scoring good spring waves, we acknowledged the tree on the way back up the hill, thanking "The Peen" for delivering a good session. From that day on, we ceremoniously rubbed it for luck like Buddha's belly on our way down the trail, and most of the time it delivered. Even on days when we had crappy sessions (like the one where I busted my nose) Gee pointed out that maybe it would have been worse had I not paid homage to the ancient dong. I agreed.

We touched The Peen yesterday, Nash, Kato, and I, and that wooden weenie smiled upon us. Short Sands displayed why it is one of the best spots on the Oregon coast, with glassy 3-4 ft. peaks popping up all over the cove. I had one of my best sessions ever. I could fearlessly drop in late, drag my hand, stall back into the steepest part of the wave, release, speed ahead, cut back, crouch low, fly forward again, and turn off the top. Guys were getting tubed and even landing aerials.

It's funny how people diss Shorties, calling it the "Kook Corral" and referring to the beautiful hike as "The Walk of Shame." Then, on nights like last night, when the wind instigates chaos across the surface of the sea, where do all of the North Coast's best surfers flock? Oswald West State Park. Hopefully the haters will keep hating and never discover the secret of "The Peen." It's pretty gay after all.

Anybody else have surf superstitions?


Stevie Wonder "Superstition"