Surf Report

Sign of a NorCal surfer: hands, face, and neck are several shades darker than any other part of the body. It's a weird look.

Today's surf was not good, although the water was warmer than usual and the sun was shining, which is oftentimes a rarity on Northern California shores. I kept getting tangled up in kelp. Also, kelp in the murky water would tickle my legs and feet, which freaked me out. And then I was nearly divebombed by a pelican. On the plus side, there were some sea otters in the water.

Of maybe twenty surfers in the water today, I was the only woman, except for this fifty-plus-year-old who was ultra aggressive. I find that male surfers, relative to female surfers, fall in two categories: (1) the nice ones, who either treat you the same as they treat anyone else (i.e., other male surfers) or are gentlemanly and let you have the wave if you haven't gotten one in a while; and (2) the assholes, who think that because you're a woman, they can get away with stealing waves from you. I have to say that I don't run into that many Category 2's, but I did today. It is not unknown for male surfers to get into fistfights over drop-ins, but was I really going to punch someone for stealing my wave? Yes, yes, I suppose one could always employ one's "feminine wiles" in lieu of brute force, but honestly, the Category 2's are the guys who would think that because you're pretty, you must not know what you're doing, which in turn justifies their stealing waves from you.

This is sometimes true in life as well as in surfing: I once went with a paralegal to visit a German client, whom I had never met before. When we were introduced, he looked surprised and said, "You're the lawyer? You're too..." And then he turned red and cut himself off. When he excused himself to take a phone call, the paralegal burst out laughing. She said, "He was totally going to say that you're too pretty to be a lawyer, but you could see him wondering whether he's allowed to say that in the U.S." I have also had people advise me that, if I'm not getting what I want out of a witness, I should try flirting. But I would rather do things the way a man would do them. Maybe this is my own limited perspective, that I think the "male" way of doing things is the only correct way? I guess I don't think of it as male, but as androgynous. I would like, at least where work is concerned, to be considered androgynous.

Sometimes I think that the only way to really be respected is to be so big that you at least look like you can pound anyone who gets in your way.

Beat down

Flipping through a magazine at the dentist's office, I saw pictures of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck trying (and seemingly failing) to learn to surf in whatever vacation spot it was that they were in. Only, I'm not sure what it was they were trying to learn to surf. A ripple? It was a tiny, barely discernible swell in the water. Whatever it was, it wasn't a wave. A wave is a wall of water that comes at you at 15-40 mph. Waves are what we have here in NorCal.

Going out today, at first the waves looked all right and not too menacing. Trying to get outside, though, I found that the shorebreak was nothing to sneeze at. The waves weren't big, but they were breaking with a surprising amount of force.

Part of the problem was that I was just afraid (albeit without good reason today), and you can't surf scared. When you're scared, you'll pull back just as you should be pushing forward and miss the wave. Or you won't be paddling hard enough to get out before the wave crushes you. Or you'll stand in the worst possible position, letting the shorebreak hit you again and again, wondering if today is the day you're going to get concussed again.

In round 2053 of ocean vs. me, the ocean wins, yet again.

Eden

The surf was unrideable again this weekend, but we went to the beach anyway. And it was actually kind of nice to be there, sans board - it's been a while since we walked along the shore and paid attention to the ocean's many other attractions besides its waves. The stretch of beach that we were on was deserted, possibly because it was cold and misty on the coast (although sunny back home). I should clarify: the beach was deserted by people, but more than amply populated by avian and marine life. We encountered numerous starfish along the shore, washed up by the tides, which we threw back into the water. Crab shells littered the beach, but we saw only one live crab. My husband put a stick near it, which the crab clung to for dear life, and we threw it, too, back into the ocean and away from the marauding birds.

I've said before, and I say again, I hate birds. Nature red in tooth and claw was definitely present on our walk: we found a dead bird, with a bloody hole in its chest. "Could it have been cannibalized by the other birds?" I no sooner asked the question than a crow flew over and began tearing flesh from the carcass with its beak. No different, perhaps, than humans and their consumption of the flesh of animals, but it disgusted us nevertheless.

On a happier note, we spent the remainder of the weekend gardening. We purchased and planted: yellow pear tomatoes, two different kinds of pumpkin, two different kinds of basil, and a peach tree. We also moved some of the plants around, digging up two wildly overgrown oregano shrubs and re-planting them away from the more delicate cilantro and basil plants. Unfortunately, some asparagus was damaged in the melee.

Heavy Bass

We listen to hip hop while changing into our wetsuits, the car radio blaring, the doors open. It's almost time for a new wetsuit, but I'm reluctant to give it up just when it's gotten stretched out enough to make it easier to put it on and take it off. I've learned how to change faster, to keep up, even though I was never good at deck changes. Once the wetsuits are on, we pull on our booties, pick up our boards, and head down to the ocean. If we surf on the south side of our usual spot, the walk down to the ocean is covered with rocks. They prick our feet through the booties; walking without the booties would be miserable. If the waves are good, we're excited, practically running.

We've seen a lot of things while surfing. Dolphins, sometimes. Seals pretty frequently. Once a large crab, Dungeoness maybe, trying to dig a hole in the sand by doing the twist. We were heading down to the water one day when we saw a starfish, big and orange, lying on the beach. It had been washed in by the waves, and it had been lucky - we had found it before any predatory birds had, or a curious dog. My husband put it on the deck of his surfboard, by the nose. He paddled out with it past the waves, only letting it drop into the water once we were outside the break. Why paddle it out? I asked. Why not just toss it back into the water? I wanted to make sure it dropped into the water somewhere deep enough so the birds wouldn't get it, he said.

In an aquarium in the Bahamas I watched a starfish lose an arm to a crab. In Norway I watched a crab lose a leg to another crab; the losing crab skulked to a corner of the tank. The winner proceeded to eat the leg. Animals are cruel by nature. But then, cruelty is subjective. Maybe it's a term that only has meaning when survival is not at stake. When I was younger, I had a fish tank, fairly large and full of fish. But one day I woke up and all the fish were on the floor. They had jumped out somehow, my father said. I was only six and this haunted me for years, that my fish had committed suicide.

Although maybe it was foul play. Around that time we'd had a cat. A fat, fat cat who was meaner than mean. I had long scratches up and down my arms. We named the cat Doughnuts, because he liked to eat them. He would steal them from our plates, scratching his way to his prize. My parents were disturbed by his bad nature and gave him away. Years later, on an island in Greece, I would be scratched by yet another cat, this one black, that I had been feeding bits of fish off my plate. And I still wouldn't understand, why something I loved and was trying to care for would want to hurt me.

Cats, starfish, dogs, birds. And the world keeps turning round.

Fear and Trembling

One of the hardest things for me about surfing is my shark phobia. (As one of my East Coast, non-surfing friends once said, is it really such a good idea to dress up like a seal and paddle out to the sharks?) It's such a strong phobia that I used to sometimes get panic attacks in the water. This was not only embarrassing, it was dangerous. I am normally a fairly strong swimmer, but in the throes of a panic attack, I can barely remember how to paddle. I would thrash my way toward shore, crying and struggling to breathe.

One day while I was surfing, I saw two fins swimming close together. For I don't know how long, I was frozen, watching them. And then they leaped into the air, both of them. Dolphins. Drops of water sprang from their bodies, sparkling.

I thought of that today. I feel like I'm so afraid of so many things. I used to surf even when I was afraid, and surfing is one of the best things I do. Maybe other things of which I am afraid will prove to be as rewarding. Maybe other things of which I am afraid will prove to be as harmless as those dolphins I mistook for sharks. Although the cynic in me focuses on the insubstantiality of dreams, I should remember that nightmares are insubstantial, too.

"[F]or he who always hopes for the best becomes old, and he who is always prepared for the worst grows old early, but he who believes preserves an eternal youth." Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling.

Blessed

It was a pretty good weekend. Dinner with friends on Friday and Saturday, Super Bowl parties on Sunday. Surfed too. The waves were not bad, and the weather was beautiful. There's something very calming about being out there, sitting on your board with the sun glinting off the water all around you. Sometimes I just like to be still, even if it means letting waves go by. I don't know about other people, but for me, there's nothing like surfing to keep the rest of my life in perspective.

In the Water

A list of injuries I have sustained while surfing:

• concussion
• black eye
• absolutely enormous bruise on my inner thigh, from my enormous center fin (unclear how this happened)
• wax under my fingernails, resulting in detachment
• many, many other bruises and cuts
  

But it still comforts me. I'm not very good (or any good at all), but surfing is the one thing I do where I don't care if I'm any good or not. I do it because it makes me happy. We live up the hill from the ocean. Sometimes when it's foggy and overcast here, we'll drive down to the beach and it'll be sunny. Of course, it happens the other way around too. Today it's hazy up here. It's supposed to rain again. They say it's an El Nino year. During El Nino, the water is supposed to be warmer, but so far, it's not.