It was a weird weekend. People that have previously spent a lot of time together, now sleeping in separate sites. Dog fights and horse shoes and a strange amount of sunshine. We surfed our usual spot(s), however everything seemed out of the ordinary. But albeit it unusual, it was a fun weekend. The wind was onshore, so we didn't surf as much as I intended. Our Saturday morning session was alright, though. Some long slides. We took a trip shortly thereafter in search of solace from the western wind. And while we did find a place where there wasn't any, the waves, however, were not in attendance either.
My father arrived while we were wandering around - his
4x4 Econoline full of camping crap. A stainless steel stove, collapsible trash can, cast iron tri-pod grill with a galvanized steel chain. That dude doesn't fuck around. We cooked food over the campfire: meat sticks and beef steaks and corn on the cob. We drank whiskey and ginger beer and prayed for windless waves. Unfortunately, Sunday was the same. Wind from the west. Two or three feet tall. We surfed for a few, drank the rest of the beer we brought, ate lunch and then headed back. We've had worse weekends. This one was just weird.
Andy. Always outta focus...
Progressive.
SO MUCH EXCITEMENT!!!
West Northwest.
The Cloak of Stoke.
Detour.
Frumpers.
The Pits.
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