Selfish no more
A good friend of mine, Chuck Steward, editor of The Portland News, just outside of Corpus Christi, has been sharing his narrative gift with me for some time -- The Seadog Journals -- and I have kept them all to myself. Until now.
Following, are the first two graphs from today's entry, which do plenty for you if the smell of sea salt is still somewhere in your nostrils. Mine is from the Pacific as was some of Chuck's early surfing experiences.
So relax, enjoy and feel free to encourage Chuck to blog, or publish his Sea Dog Journals. I have tried, but more voices might help. He can be e-mailed at email@example.com.
I went into the water at Port A about 9:30 a.m. Saturday. The water
was very choppy, but there were occasional clean large breaks. Going
out this early to avoid traffic and crowds was a good idea on one
hand, but I was also reminded: I am not a morning person. For the
first half hour in the water I felt like crap. I also fell off my
board a lot in a very ugly manner a few times. After I woke up a
little and my sinuses were thoroughly cleared from several wipeouts,
I began to jump some good rides.
It was a zig-zag day. My first wave to remember was where I caught
the break at the top and cut into the wave facing in, going north to
south. It was one of those lucky breaks (pun intended) where in spite
of the choppy water, this wave just kept going. It became a double-
ender where the first break finished and there was enough momentum to
send me to the second swell before it broke. I caught this second
swell perfectly at the top and cut in as the wave broke behind me. I
crouched real low and shoved my back heel down to jack up my speed.
This was a very sweet ride.