"I'm gonna shove that easel up your ass!"
Yesterday I was sitting in some mushy surf, watching a certain break go off like I'd never seen it before. It was absolutely beautiful in its angularity, size, color, consistency and power. It's widely known by surfers here that there's a strict underground policy forbidding any photography of the wave. Tales of bloody deer heads on car hoods and cameras being ripped from the hands of dumbfounded beachcombers all reinforce the legend of this, arguably the most coveted break on the West Coast.
Bobbing in the less-than-stellar conditions that I had relegated myself to yesterday (a spot a half-mile closer to the beach), I couldn't help but imagine what would happen if I were to amble out along the rocks with my portable easel on my back, a flimsy canvas under my arm, and a beret perched askew on my head for good measure.
I looked left at a dirt parking lot filled with Ford F150s and wondered if I'd even make it past that grizzly gauntlet, where locals have been known to huck rocks at kooks and pros alike, especially those threatening to shed light upon the perfection of the only thing that makes life in that seaside town livable. At least I'd have my easel box protecting my back and a square of stretched fabric to deflect incoming sticks and stones.
Then I thought about writing a short story about it. I smiled as a dark speck dropped into the glassy left impossibly late, drew out a precise bottom turn that brought him ten yards behind the roaring whitewater, and then swiched his weight on the rail, whipping himself back into the trough, where he was immediately swallowed like Jonas, ejected seconds later only to spray a triple overhead rooster tail that sent him back down the wave, where he repeated the process.
And I just might sit down and write that story. When I get a little time.
Alex Smoke - Don't See the Point
This post is dedicated to my grandfather, David Cosley, the man who passed an intense love of adventure, family, the Sea of Cortez, and off-color bar jokes to me. Godspeed.