Trust your Gut: Be Surf

I woke up on Monday and hemmed and hawed about getting up to the beach but I knew based on the forecast and life it was the best day to go for the next week—offshore, low wind, not terribly cold. I figured if I just started putting on my wet suit though, I would inevitably find myself driving north. That worked (though if I hadn’t had it on when I went up to say bye to Nick, it would have been game over. He’d put the pink salt lamp and the fireplace space heater on and it was the coziest little walnut of a bedroom ever. It was a matter of fierce will not to forgo the whole plan!).

I looked out the window before I left and realized how foggy it was over the water.

Hmm I thought.

My hope was that it would somehow magically dissipate or somehow magically not be there when I hit the beach, but the highway was foggy and as I pulled onto 1A, I saw I couldn’t even see the water from the road. When I reached the beach, I couldn’t believe how socked in it was. I pulled up just north of Rest’s. and I could literally not see the waves. I could only see the water from them crashing to the shore.

Ergh, I thought. I’ll just walk down.

It was spooky as hell, white all around, like King’s The Mist. I walked to the edge of the water and strapped my leash on. I’d never felt so unsure about paddling out. There was Fear and Doubt and a feeling that it wasn’t a good idea.

I’ll just try for one or two, I thought. I paddled out and was completely unsettled. I could barely see my car and the houses on the shore—they were obscured by the thick white gauze of the fog. What complicated matters was I was fairly certain I wasn’t close to the rocks by Rest’s but it was so foggy I couldn’t even see boils on the water if I was close to rocks.

I nabbed two and went in. I definitely found my edge and it just seemed stupid to be out there alone when people couldn’t even see me. If I’d been with Maddie or Steph or someone, I might have felt a little better but I felt invisible and alone and blind.

I stood on the beach as the sun rose higher thinking Am I just being a scaredy cat? but your primitive body speaks to you in ancient wise tongues and I feel it’s important to listen. So I jumped in the car and headed home.

First True Loves, in Blue

Willy was my first true board love. I bought Willy, my first surfboard (a Wavestorm) from Costco for $150 bucks plus free shipping. He arrived at my doorstep in Arlington, MA, practically the length of the porch, and I died with excitement. I wanted Willy to sleep in my bed. I wanted Willy to sit with me on the commute to work.

He saw the waves in Gloucester, Nahant, Rhode Island and New Hampshire. I learned about pearling, and stalling, and popping up, and looking up, on Willy. I learned how to carry a board, the feel of a wave consistently taking you, on Willy. For Willy I will be forever grateful.

But as I started catching things more consistently, I wanted more of a challenge. So last year, for my bday, my ex bought me a new board, Blue Moon, from Cinnamon Rainbows, an 8-foot board that I’ve been jamming on for about a year now. And we are jamming. I don’t think I caught a single wave for a one, two month period on BM. But I’ve been logging hours, double seshies, dawn patrol, out on our sweet little rollers and out on our moving mountains when they randomly roll in in the summer, and I’m having so much fun.

When I think of those two surfboards, I just feel love. I’m still getting there with my 5’6 Mick Fanning softop board I bought at Cinnamon, but slowly, ever-so-slowly, that’s growing too. I take that one out on sloppy joe days and it’s punchy and fun and a totally different ride. And I’m at the point where I’m comfy trading boards out on the water with buds and giving them a go—something a year ago I would have fallen off my board at the thought of.

It’s all about logging hours and having fun.

Willy’s in my storage unit, but I blow him a kiss every time I go in there, and will never ever get rid of him. He’s the perfect board for newbie surfer buds coming up for a fun day at the beach. In Willy we trust.

Me and Blue Moon. July, 2019. (C) Alana Martin, @alana29s