Friday was cold. Air temps were in the teens when I woke up and packed my boards on top of Rye's veg-mobile. On the drive out, there was some ice on the roads so we took it easy. That may have been why I had a better chance to look a little closer at the landscape I normally would just blow by, blinded by stokey anticipation. Down a ravine on the right side of the road was a blue sheet-metal barn and through the trees the morning sun hit it, illuminating an old surfboard. I told Rye and he slammed on the breaks (carefully) and u-turned back to see if we could get a closer look.
Down a dirt driveway there were a couple of these blue sheds and three trailers that had tarps and other add-ons. Not many windows. There was ice covering everything. Three dogs ran up to the car and we wondered if maybe we shouldn't be down on somebody's property this early in the AM. Then an old woman walked out of one of the trailers with a cigarette hanging from her lips. We asked if we could take a picture of the surfboard and she said ask her daughter-in-law in the other trailer. We walked to the other trailer, which, with all it's windows covered with blue plastic, looked more like two big shoeboxes attached together perpendicularly. Knocked softly.
Before you read any further. This is not a farmer's daughter story. There is no cow milking machine or buttered popcorn coming. No. The young woman answered the door. Peered at us suspiciously from beneath some huge elk antlers. Then she just motioned back to the other trailer and said, "If she says it's alright then it's alright."
No. Her husband's board, which had massive rotten holes in the sides and crusty ivy hanging off the back where it leaned against the wall, wasn't for sale.
Not that exciting of a story, really. And no, I can't refund the last 50 seconds you lost reading it. When we got to the spot, though, the waves looked pretty good. Not as good as the last session where the winds groomed the lines perfectly, but not too shabby either. Mostly rights. I took out my newly-repaired Andreini, but probably should have stuck with something a little more suited to shifty beach break. But I still caught a few and coaxed it into a few bumpy rights. Did I mention it was cold? There was ice on the beach when we arrived and the water was somewhere around 44 degrees.
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