Huevos Rancheros

Or is it Wave-os Rancheros? A couple weeks ago I finally got a chance to visit a wave I've always wanted to surf: The Ranch in Guerrero, Mexico. It's a lefthand pointbreak that can hold up for more than 200 yards, and can hold some serious size to boot. We got it pretty good.

The pics above are from a day that I almost opted out of (see previous post), but decided to paddle out at around 11, right when the wind started blowing. Thanks to Ebb for putting together this little photo collage a typical day. When the swell really started cracking later in the week, seems like shooting photos took a backseat to actually shooting the curl... I can't believe I actually just wrote that.

But you know one of the best things about surfing the Ranch? Getting a breakfast of huevos rancheros, cooked over an open fire, served to you in front of the waves after a 3-hour session. The most pressing question of the day? Cafe con leche or a cold cerveza? Or a second session?

More pics to come...

High School Surf Art

I've been hanging out in my hometown of Ashland, Oregon for the past week, celebrating the 4th and chilling with my family. It's been a great time. Tonight I uncovered some artwork from my freshman year in high school. As you can probably tell by who my heroes were — and the color of their wetsuits — this stuff's about 20 years old. Most everything I created that year were detailed reproductions of what I saw in surf mags. I studied each magazine meticulously and dreamed of the day when I could surf more often. I guess I haven't changed all that much.

I'd Prefer Bamboo Under My Fingernails...

I had to skip the annual trip to Mexico with my faithful band of surf-banditos and you know what that means: regular dispatches from them detailing the roping, reeling lefts they've been scoring for the past week. It probably would be easier if I wasn't part of the original party who researched and reserved that beach house over a year ago. It also wouldn't be so tough, of course, if I'd made it to Brazil or if I'd been scoring perfect spring swell in their absence.

I was, I didn't and I'm not.

But a thought crossed my mind today on the rainy commute from my temporary cubicle gig that made it all a little easier: I had to stay home so that they could score. Murphy's law dictates that if we'd all been there, it would have been dead flat. And if somebody's not starving, the feast is just standard fare, right?

That, and the thought that almost exactly a year ago I was south of the border all by myself, posting pictures for my buddies at home to see...
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I guess I deserve it... :)

We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful - Morrissey

My First Surfboard

Purchased of the used board rack in the mid-1980s. It came with all those stickers on it and I left them there, cuz I thought they were rad. I used to just look at it and dream about the waves I'd get. When I turned 16, my friend and I would drive to Brookings and Crescent City all the time to try and make those dreams a reality.

Things really haven't changed that much.

Memory Trigger 4

Sunburn peeling
Ear infection no more
Mosquito bites scabbed over (all 80 of 'em)
Sore muscles gone
Jellyfish sting fading
Ribs softening up
Rashes a thing of the past

But the memories are still strong.

The Jesus and Mary Chain - Far Gone and Out

Memory Trigger 3

South
Salted Drinks
Salty Skin
Sore Ribs
Sandy sandals
Sunburn
Swell

The National - Abel

Memory Trigger 2

Sketch from Mexico
a couple years ago,
knee-high peeler,
titled "Fisher Man."

Replacements - All He Wants to Do Is Fish

Memory Trigger

This is a page from the sketchbook that I take on every vacation. I've had the book for 10 years. It starts with drawings from my first trip to Thailand. This particular sketch is of an perfect evening at Old Man's in Baja Sur. That backlit green wall with a finger leaving a trail gets me every time. If you blow the drawing up, you can see a tiny piece of cran d' ache (fancy crayon) that makes his calf look perfect, like the evening light is just barely reflecting through the wave and onto it.

Pink Floyd - See Emily Play