Magic Weekend

Surfing slated for both days of the weekend.
Clearance to camp Saturday night.
When we got to the beach, we found this rock
with a drawing of the previous evening's full moon.
The artist must have used various pieces of dirt for color (like pastel)
and scratched the stone to make white.

Joined by my original surf chum, Ebb,
who I hadn't surfed with in almost 20 years,
our gang charged shoulder to head high waves
until the rising tide, wind chop, and sore shoulders
told us to end the morning session and grab icy beers
and food at a Cannon Beach bar with Pabst for a buck.

The sun was shining and we drank it in on the patio.
It was supposed to rain, but it was unseasonably hot.
After lunch we did a leisurely check of the surrounding breaks
until we settled on Indian Head where peaks were groomed by gentle offshores.

The waves were even bigger now.
I edged my way to the middle of the break,
where I had seen a perfect left.
I watched Ebb immediately paddle into an overhead right
and bottom turn easily before he disappeared.

A few minutes later, I had my chance.

A large smooth wedge approached
and I paddled hard and thrust into it.
The board flew.
It was a slingshot.
I watched sections fold in front of me
and I passed them by,
finding the next green wall.

Returning to my line-up
(a white, branchless pine on shore)
I did it again and again.
"Session of the season!"
I yelled as the sun began to set.
And September had only just begun.


The next morning was more of the same.
Three different spots in three days.
Not a bad welcome to Oregon surfing again
for my oldest surf friend.




Love and Rockets "No New Tale to Tell"