Warm water, bare feet, sloppy joes

We’re back in business people. The beaches are open, as I mentioned in my previous post and it’s ON.

The two months the beaches were closed, I swore I’d be out there as often as possible and I haven’t let myself down. In FACT, June 1, I started a challenge to yoga, meditate and paddle every day. I haven’t been 3/3 every day but I’ve been nearly there and it feels really good.

Enforcing this challenge for surfing has been the strangest and most surprising part. I’m going to be honest—sometimes it makes going surfing feel like a chore. That’s typically just the feeling while I’m driving up to the beach, and by the time I’m paddling out, that feeling has dissipated but it’s interesting. My theory is that so much of our lives feel controlled or forced in some way and surfing, for me, has always been a portal to absolute freedom, that adding it to the list of “things I have to do today” robs it of some glitter. Having it constrained in some more rigid way has felt awkward and strange to me and, quite frankly, not great but the moment I’m in the water, that grouchiness is gone.

The big win this week was jumping into what felt like bath water yesterday. I don’t know which generous water god sent currents of warm aqueous bliss up the New England coast but I bow to you and light a candle in your honor. I jumped in gloveless for the second time this year and couldn’t even believe it. I quite literally stayed out longer because it was so goddamn warm and just putting my hands into the water that typically numbs them within seconds was amazing. Today was a bit colder but I said fuck it, and went booty-less anyway. It was cold at first but I was used to it after five minutes or so.

The waves once more were chunky as they’ve been this wk, with short periods, but they had some power to them. Some great sets rolled through that I just wasn’t in the right spot for but I had a sweet drop on one wave that left me marveling at the distance between where I was a couple years ago and now. There’s just this confidence and faith that I’ve got this when I’m standing at the top of a wave that could only come with so much time on the water.

Happy place. (C) Sara Dyer

Beaches Open. Back Surfing.

It was this article, shared by my buddy and fellow hard core beach bum Steph, that sent me cartwheeling around the room with a shit-eating smile on my face last week. The countdown to the beaches reopening to surf had begun.

Monday couldn’t come fast enough. I didn’t give a damn that Magic Seaweed was boasting a less than fair forecast. I had to get out there.

I jumped in at Long Sands for the first time in over two months and immediately felt that inner boost. My first wave, I caught a left, which sent me over the moon. I’d almost felt sure that I’d come back and lose everything I’d worked on over the winter.

Wednesday, I drove up to Long Sands and had to keep driving north, as it was almost unsurfable—sloppy and choppy. Short Sands had some rubber suits but I kept driving north, as it was low tide and I knew the spots that might be working. Peeeeeeeling waves just north of York and I was so stoked that for the first time, some local earned knowledge came in handy. After a long paddle, and a sweet wave, I got my ass handed to me when I got caught in the inside. I tried to paddle back out but, afraid of how gassed I was getting and knowing I’d been on the bench for two months, I decided I’d save it for another day.

Which was today! Happy day at Long Sands w Maddie. Love sharing waves with her. Just north of restaurants was perfect and I was so sad to leave the 80 degree weather for the computer but it was just the beginning of warm water.

The silver lining of not surfing for two months is that it’s almost 4/3 time, and the water’s actually started to warm up. Life is good.

Missing Surf in the Days of COVID-19

I have so much to be grateful for in this strange unprecedented time. My loved ones. My health. A stable source of income. And I think about that and dwell in that gratitude every day.

But I’m struggling with the closures of the beaches due to COVID-19.

Not being able to pull up, wax my board and paddle out—not being able to call up friends for an early morning pre work session, not feeling that happiest of feelings as I pop up and ride the face—I really miss it. It’s like a hole in my heart. It’s like a phantom limb.

I’m so grateful for what I have. And I can stand behind measures to keep us safe, 100%. But it doesn’t mean I’m wild for it. It doesn’t mean I’m not going bananas when I drive by the beach [which I haven’t been able to stop doing] and there’s just peeling glass. Endless peeling glass and not a bobbing neoprene donning body in sight.

It’s been 2-3 weeks or more since I last got into the ocean and I’m feeling it. I’m feeling buzzy, itchy, grumpy. My skin is suffering—that salt water in the winter has been such a salve against the awful ornery New England winters. And frankly, some days I feel a direct correlation with my confidence level. Surfing for me, is such an instant boost to my confidence and my energy. It instantly makes me feel happy. It instantly makes me feel good. I miss that. Miss it really bad.

I know what I need to do. I need to take advantage of all the surf workouts being posted, I need to get back into my surfboard making project I’ve been doing with Maddie, I need to visualize and dream myself on the water. I need to watch the endless queue of surfing movies I have saved. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to stay focused, stay in shape and dream of surf. In the words of Kolohe Kai—”I’ve got a date with Ms Blue.” The date’s just TBD.

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