Learning Balance While Surfing Point Grenville
My alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. and Momo was elated that I would choose to feed him so much earlier than normal. No, this wasn't a time to get a cat conditioned for earlier feedings, this was a time to get ready to go surfing! I packed up the salmon, cheese, and juice in the cooler, threw all the neoprene I owned into the plastic tub, and coaxed my big longboard into its cozy bag for the three hour trip out to the coast.
I pulled up to Perry's house at the anointed hour of 6 a.m., but after 15 minutes it was apparent no one in the house was stirring, except for a few hushed doggie "woofs" that quickly lost interest. I had sad thoughts of this trip not happening and my one chance to finally go to Point Grenville lost. I finally called Perry and he realized he'd slept through his alarm. The occupants of the house began to move and the ball finally started rolling. We threw our gear and two humongous longboards into the back of his Ford Excursion (ok maybe huge SUVs come in handy) and took off to see what the day would bring.
Turns out that Perry is quite the PNW outdoorsman. I know him from racing and training at the track, and a few people, including Zack and Jane, know him as their favorite dentist. Aside from those well known activities, he's also an avid hunter, fisherman, skier, budding triathlete, and father of three equally active adult daughters. Along the drive he narrated stories tied to local towns or rivers that we'd drive by: good fishing spots, the best local cheesemaker, where the cops always have speed traps, worthy restaurants, when this stand of trees had been cut down, etc. He's the real deal when it comes to Washington natives. In Hoquium we stopped at the local grocery store where he knew they make donuts fresh Sunday mornings. We got a few and yes, they were delicious. "NOW we can go surfing!" he exclaimed.
Up to the Quinault reservation we met his old friend, Cliff, who is a tribal elder. Perry and Cliff go hunting in Montana every year to bag elk, and fishing for steelhead and salmon in Washington rivers. They know each other's families and enjoyed catching up. Soon we were back in the big rig and down to the beach to see what the ocean would serve us. Cliff would follow behind and hang out at the beach watching us bob in the water.
It was low tide and was easy to drive the big rig out onto the beach and up to the northern edges where the waves would wrap around the Point and hopefully bring in some good waves. A survey with the binoculars showed there wasn't much swell (marine forecast of only three feet) and anything bigger coming in was totally closing out. Not letting an initial negative report deter us, we suited up and headed out. The wind had been coming from the northwest the past few days, which brought in a lot of colder water from Alaska. Naïve me never pays attention to such details and left her thick five millimeter neoprene gloves and hat in the car. It only took a few minutes for my hands to be completely numb and without any sun to warm them up I finally went in for relief.
Back out, some decent medium-sized sets were finally coming in, but otherwise it was larger close-out sets followed by piddly double-over-ankles sets. And with a gray sky, the light was really flat and hard to judge what was coming in, so by the time you realized you should turn around and paddle, the waves were almost on top of you. I hadn't done a popup in ages so I took a few turns playing in the white water to get the muscle memory back. It helped a lot and later I managed to catch a few good waves. Perry had a great morning too and rode his wooden board in great style.
Even if the waves weren't epic and my years off the board weren't making me as sharp as before, just being in the water was an instant reprieve from all the other bullshit that's been preoccupying my life. Bobbing out in the water or ducking freezing waves, there is no Epstein-Barr, there is no heavy disappointment in not being able to race for a second season, there is no frustration in my body not bouncing back like it should, there is no overwhelming unfairness when I see all the other cyclists buff and tan and challenging themselves, there is no uncomfortable pause of lingering skepticism when I explain to others what's wrong we me and why I can't race or go play, there are no cars trying to kill me on my commute or drivers flipping me attitude, basically there is nothing in the water wanting anything from me. It's just me, my board, and the ocean....being.
After about three hours, the salmon in the car started calling me so I went in for some lunch. Perry followed and we had a nice lunch on the beach with Cliff. Perry was concerned about all the holiday traffic going back to Seattle, so we wisely packed up and headed back to the city. It was a good time to end the session. We'd had good waves and as we drove off, the tide continued out further and diminished any other swell trying to make its way in.
On the drive back home I endlessly daydreamed about how I need to get surfing back into my routine. It was something that I loved to do on a regular basis until I got detoured with this bike racing thing. Getting to know Perry more showed how possible it is to balance so many aspects of your life. That's a good goal to work on in one's life: balance.
