A high quality Alaskan wave finds its way up a freezing cold inlet.
We rode waves here for days and had many great rides. Water and Air Temperature ~ 37º brr!
A high quality Alaskan wave finds its way up a freezing cold inlet.
We rode waves here for days and had many great rides. Water and Air Temperature ~ 37º brr!
A few of the many wonderful surfers I have met on the beaches of California…
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Sunshine Smile, California
It was nearly 20 years ago that I had made a trip deep into the Southern Pacific. There, I found many things and places to my liking. At one point, guided by an unseen hand, I stumbled upon an Island that resembled the Tropics, yet was cool and even a little chilly.
The place pumped with consistent surf.
One afternoon, I had chanced upon a bay that had some very good surf. There were a few people in the water and I cautiously made my way to the line up in hopes of a few waves.
The Surfers in the water were quiet but not unfriendly. I was allowed a few waves and appreciated the kindness of the local crew. Again, nobody said a word to me in the water. I was neither welcome or unwelcome...I was simply 'there.'
2 hours later, I had my fill. I left the water and went back to my van to dry off.
On the drive in, I had to navigate a 4 wheel drive type of road. There were large ruts and a lot of areas with soft sand. Driving down was easy, driving up added some real challenges. Half way up, I became stuck in a sand trap. I did what I could to try and get myself unstuck and had no luck at all. Ugh!
In time, another car came up the trail. I recognized the driver as one of the Surfers from the water. My immediate thought was not good. I imagined the driver and his 2 surfing passengers were going to be pretty sore about not being able to get around me.
L.B. got out along with Liam and Simmsy. I fully expected a growl from all of them as they were now forced to do something to get around me and the only thing they could do was to help me get out of the rut that I was stuck in. They had no other choice. I felt bad to put them in this spot but, there was little that I could do to change things now.
The 3 guys walked up to me, introduced themselves and took a look at what needed to be done. The next minute, with ropes fastened to my rear bumper, they used their car to pull me from the hole and allow me another try to make it past the trap. Lucky for us all, I made it out.
On the other end of the road, I got out and thanked them for the help. I had nothing to offer in the way of any reward and told them so. LB laughed and said it was all in a day's work. They said goodbye and sped off. I drove a little ways up the road and camped there for the night in hopes of more good surf the next day.
I got up the next morning to the sound of surf. Keeping the van at a safe distance from the 'pit', I saw the surf was still good. I also recognized LB's vehicle. I paddled out to the line up and said hello. We surfed together in some good conditions before the tide shut things down.
2 decades later, I still see LB and Liam. I was lucky to find some land nearby where they are and have really enjoyed spending as much time in the area as I can every year. Upon arrival, I am always stoked to paddle out and see some familiar faces. The surfing community there is very tight and it is nice to see such camaraderie between the people there. The tightness reminds me of my outside status, yet, I always feel like a welcome guest. I feel privileged to observe the lives of these folks and I am honored to call many of them friends.
Last winter, after a day of particularly good surf, I shot this photo of L.B. as he emerged from the water after another session of pumping surf.
~ The last 2 days, I have been in the water without booties. It has been nice, after 2 months, to surf in bare feet again.
Pulling up to have a look at the surf, I spotted this guy in the water. He was a Lifeguard and was on his rescue board, getting wave after wave...in TRUNKS!
The surf continues to be good and I want to thank all of those that have been so helpful to me on this adventure.
I will be continuing down the California Coast and it would be great to say hello and go for a surf. Aloha, mm
~ It is rare to see myself from the other side of the lens. My friend John shot this of his Son and I on our way out for a few waves.
I am now in California and, at least in this part of the State, I am quite far from the things that many consider California to be. Here, there is no Freeway, Strip Mall or Botox. San Francisco is still hours away and there is plenty of room to find a few waves to yourself.
John is an old friend from Maui that has found his own form of paradise right here. He has all that he needs ~ A lovely girlfriend, a great dog, a Son that surfs and a lot of time to enjoy the beautiful isolation this heaven provides.
It has been a great stay. mm
~ The things one finds in the middle of nowhere can be worth traveling to the middle of nowhere to find them. mm
Aloha from the Oregon/California border…
mm: A Surfer's Journey
Day 55
~ Finding a place to stay on the Oregon coast is never difficult after September. By September, people pack up and head inland, letting the sleepy towns go back to proper sleeping. I found a place to post up in a small, coastal town. The town is very quiet with a main street that leads to the beach. Main street has little to offer even in Summer and, by this time of year, it offers even less. The shop selling candy and fudge is done. There will be no waffle cones until next June and forget about the clam chowder served in some bread bowl. Now, there is only a small shop with limited food, a Mexican place (thank God!) and a health food store that seemed to ignore the memo that the 1970’s are long over. In the mornings, I would cruise over there for some fresh juice.
As a teenager, I was in a car crash. My Plymouth Valiant lived up to her name and valiantly sacrificed herself to save me in a head on collision with a drunk operating a Delta 88. One of a few injuries I suffered was a broken jaw. My mouth was wired shut for 12 weeks. In some kind of draconian attempt to fuse the breaks, an Oral Surgeon placed braces on my teeth and sewed them tightly shut with stainless steel wire, immobilizing my jaw. For the next 3 months, I lived on a liquid diet. During that time, I drank a lot of fresh juice and learned to enjoy it. My mother would make them for me in the morning and I would pack them in a cooler with ice and take them to school. When I was healed and the braces were removed, I still wanted to drink those juices. I knew, after a forced 3 month experiment, that they had done me a lot of good. Within a year, I had a small juice business in Pa’ia that I maintained into my early 30’s. To this day, 40 years after the accident, I still drink fresh juice.
On this morning, the surf was pumping. Too big to paddle out, I decided to enjoy watching the giant waves detonate on the shore. I never tire of watching huge surf breaking. The power is captivating to me. After getting my fill, I walked the beach toward Main Street. When the sand turned to concrete, I walked up the street to the health food store. I knew I was close when I sensed the unmistakable smell of Patchouli oil.
Health food stores have some unique similarities, at least the real ones do. Whole Foods and the other chain stores are not what I am talking about here. No, I am talking about the stores that have a single shop and may or may not be a co-op of multiple owners. Usually, they are packed floor to ceiling with their various products and wares. There are always bulletin boards advertising healing seminars, crystal therapies and yoga classes. The smell in these shops is telltale and is the same no matter which store you enter or where it is located. . The smell is a combination of vitamins, turmeric, bulk spices and patchouli…always patchouli.
Walking in, I move beyond the bulletin board, ignoring the pamphlets offering chakra realignment and energetic transformations by someone named Light. Instead, make my way to the counter to place a juice order. The woman at the counter is abundantly pleasant. She has dreadlocks piled high on her head and they are contained in a colorful wrap of fabric. She smiles and her white teeth and bright eyes light up her face. Who knows, maybe her chakras were recently aligned. I ask her for a carrot, beet and ginger juice. The same juice she has been making me for days. She gave me a ticket to take to a bearded guy to be rung up. The ticket had the amount along with a heart and peace sign written on it.
Back at the counter, she asked me about my camera. She wondered what I was taking photos of. I told her that I shoot a lot of subjects and had no specific subjects in mind. I showed her some of the surf photos that I had just taken. She liked them and told me she thought the ocean, and the negative ions it produces with the crashing surf, was a healing place. Maybe that is what I like about the ocean. Who knows, maybe she is on to something? My whole life, pretty much, has been spent in or near this circulation of ions and, whether I have been healed I cannot say but I do know how much better I feel when I am in the vicinity of breaking waves. We chatted a little more as she finished making my juice. I told her about the project that I am working on and she liked the idea. It seems people are pretty cool with the idea of going around the world in search of beautiful beaches and the people that surf at them. She called out to a guy standing nearby and told me to tell him about the journey. After explaining to him what I was doing, he suggested we go to his place and have a look at what he builds. Always open to what may present itself, I said sure and we walked out to the street.
The guy's name was Henry and he looked to be about 40 years old. He had long brown hair and a beard. He was munching on a vegetarian, breakfast burrito. We walked toward the street and got inside his van. He drove a classic van with odd, wavy stripes painted on it. Inside, it was filled with lumber. We wound around some roads and headed uphill to a grassy place with huge views out to the ocean. Henry parked and we got out. The view looked south down a huge stretch of coast. Henry told me that he was raised here on a 15 acre parcel of land his folks bought. It was a perfect place to spend a lifetime. From here, one would have an ever changing view of the beach and ocean. I like big water views that allow the viewer to look at the infinite space beyond the horizon. The huge surf pounded the beach below us and the sound could easily be heard from where we stood. I envied Henry’s view and could imagine how nice it would be to watch the massive north pacific storms as they approached the land from out to sea. Also, I could just as easily imagine how many days he has witnessed perfect surf from here. The giant windows in his place were built for this very thing.
I stood in the yard outside, still with no idea as to what he wanted to show me. Henry was soft spoken and I liked his vibe. I was curious as to what I was about to see. He went inside and came out a minute later carrying a wooden surfboard under his arm. He was humbly smiling as he walked up to me and put it in my hands. I was immediately surprised by just how light it was.
Henry is a carpenter and builds wooden surfboards in his spare time. The boards are built primarily from cedar with some mahogany and redwood to add some color contrast. The board he handed me was a short, fish design. It was 5’8” and light as a feather. I loved the outline and told him so. He smiled and was happy to have some feedback on his beautiful creation. He invited me inside and I walked with the board in my arms to the front door and went inside. The house was a warm place that was heated by a wood stove. Again, the view was huge and beautiful. The entire front was all glass save the framing it took to keep the huge panes in place. My eyes followed the beach until my focus turned to the other boards stacked up along a wall beside me.
There were 3 boards there. One was a longboard and the others were shortboards. All were shaped by a shaper that knew his way around template outlines and bottom contours. It was clear that Henry had some experience building boards. He confessed to having a background in that area and I was not surprised. These were clearly surfable boards and they all had waxed decks to prove it. Each was a thing of beauty. I was impressed and I thanked him for taking me to see his creations.
We talked about many subjects while having some hot tea. I thanked him for his hospitality and told him that I would walk back to my place instead of taking a ride. We shook hands and I was on my way.
I walked down the wooded road to the beach. The surf was now even more unruly and I enjoyed walking the deserted beach back to the place that I was staying. Inside, I pulled the card from my camera and brought up the photos from our meeting. I have added a few of them for you all to see what it was that impressed me so.
~ It was morning and I was hungry. I had just made my way from a long search for some surf and I got skunked. Now, it was time to eat. Heading south along the highway, I approached a lumber yard and mill. As I passed, I spotted a Chopper and knew I had to stop and have a look. Parking the car, I climbed out and walked over to the bike. Nobody was around to ask any questions about it so I just took some shots. Finishing up, I looked over to the lumber yard and saw a guy standing with his arms crossed looking in my direction. I could tell right away that the bike belonged to him. He looked right at me as I walked toward him. As I got closer, I could see the expression on his face. He was smiling.
‘Nice bike,’ I said. 'Did your Girlfriend let you borrow it?’ He laughed. We shook hands and he told me his name was Jeremy and that he had built the bike himself. I was impressed. I really don’t know much about motorbikes but, I know what I like when I see it and I liked this bike a lot. I congratulated him on the work and he told me what all he had done in making it. It was an impressive effort and it was clear that he was proud of what he had done. He had every right to feel this way. The work was stellar.
We talked about bikes, surfing, photography and what I was doing out on the coast. He liked the idea of traveling the coast in search of stories to tell. I explained to him that he was exactly what I was looking to encounter along the way. People make up such a huge part of what keeps me interested. Jeremy was interesting. He had a story to tell. Everyone does.
Coastal Oregon is an interesting place. Many coastal areas are crowded and overpriced places where wealth intersects with beauty. Such wealth has prevented people from being able to enter or remain in any place with any proximity to the Ocean. Many parts of coastal Oregon are different. Coastal Oregon is cold. Coastal Oregon is cold, wet and can be pretty dark. Cold, wet and dark does not add any allure in a real estate ad. It keeps people away, well, some people anyhow. Some people seek the kind of place that is isolated from this world. Jeremy is this person. It was obvious that he had little interest in belonging to a Yacht Club in Marin County or San Diego. He was at home here, where it remains quiet…Quiet, dark and cold.
Jeremy worked at the lumber yard and was on the clock as we spoke. I asked if we could do a few shots with him and his bike and he said he’d have to check with his boss. He went into the office to check and I stayed outside. He came back out, along with his boss Dave. I apologized to Dave for interrupting the day's work and he shrugged it off. He was bust but not too busy to let us get a few shots. Dave suggested that they move a few things around to make a better staging area for the photo shoot. I told him that I really didn’t want to be such a hassle. I felt bad that they were so accommodating, especially, seeing that I just barged in on operations and I felt like I was being a big pain in the ass to them. Apparently,it was really no bother and they worked together to move some stuff out of the way. Dave, it was pretty clear, liked Jeremy and was happy to be a part of all of this. I suppose it did make for a nice break in the routine of a work day.
Before walking over to get his bike, Jeremy asked if he should put his vest on. I told him, ‘Absolutely,’ He put it on and crossed the street and got the motor running. He came up to the front of the shop and I fired away with the shutter. It was nice to get some photos of he and his bike. I liked the pride he had in his expressions. He was a young man and had many reasons to be proud of himself. He created something that stopped me in my tracks. He got to ride his creation and operate it in his world. He was happy and, so was I.
Update from the Pacific Northwest… Aloha, mm
Here is a brief video of the first 45 days. Hope you enjoy! For more of the story, please visit my Patreon Page
Aloha - mm
~ It is never easy to say goodbye to such great adventures.
This trip began with a quick note to the writer of a newspaper article that I read on surfing in Alaska. In the article, there was mention of an Alaskan surfer named Pete. I wrote the paper with my interest in the article and gave them my contact info and asked if they would send it along to Pete.
20 minutes later, my phone rang.
Pete was on the other end of the line. We spoke of surfing the Bore Tides and other surf spots. Pete invited me up and left me with an inspiring quote. "I'm gonna put you on the longest ride of your life."
How could I say no?
We met a day after Pete was back from a Snowboarding trip in Argentina. From that day forward, we had some great adventures in the water and on the land.
I am really grateful for all that he did to help me along on this expedition. On may way back down south, I stopped at Pete's to say Aloha.
Until we meet again, Pete. Aloha
~ We had been surfing at the Inlet for several days. The wave is very predictable and you can count on it arriving every 12 hours as the high tide peaks. As a surfer, I have never known such reliability when it came to predicting the arrival of a swell or, in this case, a single wave. Every day, like literal clockwork, the wave arrived. For days, during the peak high tides, I would arrive and wait for the wave to appear. It never occurred to me that there could be ‘off’ days but, one day I showed up to terrible surface conditions and it was then that I understood that just because a predictable wave arrives, it does not mean that perfect conditions would accompany it. I knew that there would be no surfing that day as the prevailing wind was making havoc on the water’s surface.
I decided to drive home. On the way home there is a small Café. I stopped in for some breakfast.
Opening the door, I walked inside. There were a few people there and as I walked toward a table, they looked at me. The looks were familiar to me. The look was one mixed with a few meanings. It is a look of indifference, a look that says, ‘I don’t really give a damn who you are. I don’t know you and I couldn't care less about some recent blow in from the Outside.’ These people have put in some time and are responsible for blazing the trails that I am now taking advantage of. One can feel a bit of resentment from them and I can understand why. Again, I get to freely use what many of them paid a lot to create for themselves. These people deal with the freezing cold, the long Winters and the all day darkness that comes with it. They really are tough and they can tell that you, no matter what it is that you think about yourself, are not.
Sitting down at a table, the Waitress came over and took my order. I could tell by her look that I should not ask for any modifications to what the menu offered. I ordered eggs. It was either that or pancakes. There were no fancy kinds of coffee drinks or any other frilly things. Eggs. Pancakes. Coffee. If you want a smoothie or some kind of vegan, this or that, well, you can piss off back to cushy Seattle for that. ‘Here, we don’t go for that’, is the silent message that reads loud and clear.
I sat and waited for my eggs. My camera sat on the table and kept me company.
Cameras, as I have said before, have a way of getting people’s attention. People, it seems, have a way of seeing people with cameras. Many just think you are a Tourist but, I don't really look like a Tourist so, I think my camera piques some curiosity and folks want to know why I am carrying it or what am I going to shoot with it. It has opened up many conversations between strangers and myself. Over years of time, I have gotten many photos of these curious people. Inside of this Café, I got the impression that nobody wanted to sit for a portrait. No, they were there to eat, talk shit with one another and that’s about all.
The eggs came and I thanked the waitress. “That’s my job.” was her only reply. I ordered scrambled eggs and was given fried. I said nothing about it and shook some salt and pepper on them. Anyone that knows me well, knows that I cannot stand fried eggs. I like them scrambled…only.
The door of the café opened and a guy walked in. He addressed everyone there with a nod and they all seemed to nod back at him. Obviously, he was a known member of this breakfast club. He sat down at the table next to mine. I said hello to him and he nodded at me. The waitress came to his table and poured him some coffee. She told him his order would be out soon and he thanked her. There was no looking at the menu, there was just an unspoken order that had, from the looks of it, no need of any spoken words. His breakfast would be out soon. I had the feeling that if he wanted, he could have asked for any modification that he wanted from what was offered. He did not pull out a phone and begin scrolling through it. He just looked at me and my camera.
“What do you shoot with that?” he asked. I told him, looking at his holstered gun, “The same things you probably shoot with that,” I said, again, looking right at his gun, but from a safer distance. I like shooting photos of wildlife and Alaska has no shortage of opportunities to do so. Here, there are Bears, Wolves, Moose and Eagles and, everyone of them can hurt you. His gun and my camera sought the same target but for altogether different reasons. My tool provides me with entertainment and his provides him with protection or a meal…sometimes both with the same shot. I told him that I was beginning a project that would be taking me around the coastlines of the world. I said I was going to photograph surfers and surfing from as many different places as I could. He seemed ok with that. I showed him a few shots that I had recently gotten from some of the surfing that Pete and I had done. He knew Pete and I think that helped a little. Green as I may be, Pete did add a little to add some validity to my being there.
His food came and there was a lot of it. He dug into it and we kept talking about things. He arrived in Alaska in 1973, the year that he graduated High School. He had been given a job and drove up all the way from Sacramento, California. Upon arrival, he went to work. A month into working, a coworker invited him on a Moose hunt. They were to fly into an inland lake, make camp and look for Moose to shoot. They shot one pretty quickly after getting there and they cleaned it, packed it into the plane and the coworker and Pilot flew back to Anchorage to drop off the meat. One cannot simply have meat outside in Alaska. The smell of meat is way too attractive for any nearby bear or wolf pack to resist. So, in this case, the meat was to be flown back to town and then the coworker and Pilot would return to camp to continue hunting. There was only one problem; The plane crashed on the way back.
By the third day, it was clear that something had gone wrong. The man explained to me that he knew he should stay put. Within a week, he began to wonder how he was going to get out of the wilderness and get back to civilization. He was able to easily survive on all of the available food that surrounded him but he knew he couldn't stay there. He built a fire from logs that had been felled by Beavers. He lit it and kept feeding it until a plane flew down for a closer look and saw him waving his arms. The plane landed on the water and brought him back to safety. He was 18 years old then. When I was that age, I was basking in the warm Hawaiian sun and surfing in bubbly, blue, tropical waters. Survival to me meant not dropping in on a massive local. Here, massive locals take on an entirely new definition. Here, massive locals weigh over 1,000 pounds and can easily make you their next meal. “You are nothing but future Bear shit out here,” I was once told.
The waitress came and poured him more coffee. She asked me if I was ready for the check. I was given the distinct feeling that her and I were probably not going to have dinner later that evening. Before answering her, she put the check on the table beside my camera. There was no smiley face on it, there was only a six dollar charge for the 2 eggs that were fried instead of scrambled.
The man and I kept talking. He was actually a very nice guy and he introduced himself to me as Lex. I told Lex that my name was Michael. He called me Mike. I didn’t correct him. Lex was bearded and big. His beard, like most men here, looked like it took years to cultivate. It was thick and I am sure it kept his face quite warm. His hands were tough and had obviously done their share of work. He was pleasant and told me about his family, how much he loved his daughter and son in law and how excited he was to be a grandparent. I listened and had little to offer him that I thought he would want to hear.
Things were winding down and I asked him what he might suggest I do seeing that surfing was off the table for the day. Lex told me that I should visit a particular Glacial tunnel that he knew about. He thought that I could get some interesting photos there. He gave me directions and told me to bring extra clothing and waterproof boots. I thanked him and we shook hands. “Good luck,” was all he said to me as I got up and left.
I made my way back to the cabin and grabbed my things. I hopped back in the truck and headed out along the Inlet until I got to the road that Lex told me to take. I turned and followed it deep into the woods. Eventually, I headed high enough that the trees gave way to the Glacial field. I parked the truck, grabbed my bag and began the walk uphill toward the mountain peak. There was nothing to see but big rocks, a dark gray landscape that extended to an ice covered peak and a river that consisted of melted, glacial ice. Everything was pretty bleak and desolate. I was the only person around and I had a bit of concern for myself. I ignored the concerns and began walking in the direction of the peak in front of me.
Walking uphill for about a mile, I still had no idea where the entrance to the Glacial cave was. All that I could see were rocks, gigantic boulders and nothing else. Climbing up a hurdle of boulders got me to another level of ground and I could see a gaping hole in the side of the mountain face. I walked toward it.
Approaching the hole, I could see that it led to an underground ice tunnel. The opening was big enough to fit a home inside of it. Large boulders led to the entrance and even they looked small when compared to the cave’s entrance. I stood before it and looked inside. I could see the river pouring from it and water was raining down inside of the cave from the glacial ceiling above.
I had been in Glaciers before but this one was different. On a different trip to a Glacier, I was much more intimidated by it. The other glacier was unstable and I could hear millions of tons of ice moving. The moving ice groaned and squeaked and made all kinds of scary sounds. It was an intimidating place to be. I was also alone when I experienced it and I remember taking a selfie and recording a message on my phone that I left outside the entrance, in case I didn't come out. I shook with some real fear as I entered the icy chamber. Once inside, I was treated to a world that I could have never imagined. It was well worth the experience despite the danger.
This new glacier was altogether different. The entrance was huge and open and the entire place seemed stable and inviting. I was intimidated but not scared as I had previously been. Still, I was surrounded by unstable ice and could see a lot of evidence of such instability. There were huge ice chunks that had recently fallen all around me. I added my rain gear to my warm clothes, put on a pair of gloves and began to walk inside.
Inside was a world of incredible wonder. Intense light was reflecting all around me from the outside light bouncing off all of the ice facets. Dark streaks of minerals embedded in the ice from millions of years of movement, spiraled in contrasting stripes of color toward the back of the tunnel. It was a surreal world of frozen beauty. As I followed the river within the tunnel, I was stunned by the color of the water. Again, the minerals lent a hand in creating a water color that looked like bright blue paint. The water was as clear as Gin but it shined with a blue radiance that seemed like it was from another planet. I had never seen nature produce such a color.
Further inside and still along the river, I rounded a corner and looked into a place of such extreme beauty that I could have been in a dream. Above me was pure white ice with spiraling streaks of dark minerals. Below me, was a river of clear, blue paint like water and, directly in front of me was a 10 foot waterfall…underground…pouring the most beautiful blue colored water down to the river below. It was beyond imagination. It was nothing less than a living hallucination of magnificence.
It was freezing cold and I couldn’t have cared any less. I was in a trance and I just sat on a rock and enjoyed the incredible splendor surrounding me. I had reached a pinnacle in my life and I knew from that point on that I would have to really seek something that could top this moment. In a life that has been nothing short of experiences, this moment sat above them all. It was a wonderful feeling to be in such a state of mind and beauty. I was happy.
I stayed on a little longer before I noticed how cold I was getting. I was, after all, deep underground and surrounded on all sides by nothing but ice. It was time to go. I snapped a few photos before I made my way back to the outside world. I hope you all enjoy seeing them as much as I had enjoyed shooting them.
I wish you all the very best. With Aloha, mm
I am off to the Northwest to begin my global surf adventure. I hope you will join me along the way! - mm
~ When I saw the man, I asked him, "Donde puedo encontrar las Olas?" He told me, "Ellas estan mas alla de las montañas."
The mountains were huge and it took time to make it over them. I could smell the Ocean before I could see it. My sense of smell led me to this spot and allowed my sense of sight to take over from there.
I stayed out so long that I had to walk back over the mountain in the dark.
I got out of the water and got dressed. I left my board and suit on the rocks so that I wouldn't have to carry them back over the mountain and then back over the mountain again the next day.
When I returned the following day, I saw the man that directed me over the mountain the day before. He asked me about my board and I told him I had left it on the rocks along the shore. He smiled and tapped his finger to his temple. I smiled and did the same before climbing back over and paddling out.
~ On the third day, I walked past the old man's place on my way over the mountain. A big river flowed from out of the mountains past his house. He had a fire burning and he was cooking something over it when I walked up. "Hay muchas Truchas en esa aqua." He had an entire Trout in the pan above the flames. When it was done, he gave me some to eat. We finished and he knew where I was headed. He grabbed a few things and told me he would walk over the mountain with me. I followed him up a trail that he hadn't told me about the other day. It was much easier than the overland route that I had been using the last 2 days.
We arrived at the top and looked down at the Ocean. The surf was still good but, it was clearly the last day of this Swell. The man sat down on a tarp he had brought with him and I walked down to where my board and suit were. I paddled out into the cold water and rode some nice waves until the high tide shut things down. I made my way to shore over the rocks and packed my suit and board into my bag and walked back up to the top where the man smiled at me. He knew that I was stoked and he told me that if he were younger, he would have joined me.
I followed him down the trail and over to his place. He grabbed a net and we walked down to the river bank. As if on cue, a Trout presented itself and he scooped it up in the net. He quickly bled it and handed it to me. Thanking him, and rather blown away by the entire experiences of the last few days, I wrapped the Trout in my cold wetsuit and made the long walk back to the road.
Michael McNamara Surf Trip Interview GP
Hope you enjoy this interview by Greg Person for the Legendary Surfers group on Facebook. It was an honor to be interviewed by him. To watch the video, click on the underlined link above.