Date: Monday, December 27, 1999 4:37 PM
From: LemmingŪ
Newsgroups: alt.surfing
Subject: Secret Society
As I packed the last of the items into the truck, I
took one last look around at this space. Not just to
see what I had left unpacked, but to take in the
ambiance one more time. Because I knew that as I made
my way down the road, say 10 miles or so, that would be
the last I'd really think about this place. Surely I'd
remember waves, people and the good times. But I knew
that the actual details concerning the physical area
that I'd spent the last 3 months in would quickly leave
my mind. I wanted one last good look around. And then I
was gone.
The last 3 months had passed by hastily. The morning
subroutine was simple and to the point. Wake before
dawn, listen out the window for local waves. If waves,
then surf local. If not, logon to the net and check the
buoy data. If conditions looked good for a ride down
the coast, then pack and go. If it looked like a down
day, then go into town, get supplies, do a workout in
the pool, go skating or hiking, come home, get on the
net, check the data, have a few drinks, talk story with
hundreds of other addicts, go to sleep. Totally
automated and efficient. One falls into a rhythm with
the tides, winds and swell. The sun, moon and stars.
Like a secret society who's only form of communication
is telepathy, you find yourself at the same old breaks,
seeing the same old faces, pulling into the parking lot
at virtually the same time. All looking for another
shot at that magical fleeting session.
The fact is, they come about 1-2 times a week around
these parts this time of year (fall). But to catch
them, that's another story. One has to be prepared to
stay unemployed, work nights, become a criminal or what
have you to get the goods. There's a lot of ground to
cover on the OP. A good horse and a cleared out
itinerary are essential. In fact, the prize is so
elusive, so mysterious, and so fickle, that when you
catch the woman in the act, her memory burns forever in
your mind. Forever. And if becoming a member of this
secret society cost you a job. A lover. A life. You
gladly pay the price and take your chances. All the
more reason to remain committed and single minded.
Can I tell you of the physical bliss that pervades your
flesh and soul after a 4 hour session in 2X sheet
glass? How about the hike out through 3 miles of mud
and rain? Can you recreate the emotions conjured up by
sitting around the living room with the 2-3 guys that
shared this experience, recanting the day's waves and
glory? I'm not sure...
Can I tell you of 16ft, 20second groundswell hitting
the reef all day in a way that you'll understand my
sacrifice without actually tasting this woman's charms?
I think not. Can I tell you what it means to be
balanced perfectly upon tide, wind and swell so that
you know precisely when to strike without you actually
paying your dues? I think not.
Suffice it to say that the Fall was spent exclusively
in the company of the elements responsible for the
conception of this secret society. A society whose
members will be confidants until the end, regardless of
what comes after. I have paid the price and have come
away from the transaction with memories of waves and
friends that will surely burn like bright light in my
soul for all time. You can take away my job. You can
take away my lover. You can take away my social life.
But you will never, ever, touch the light that burns
inside this surfer's soul.
LemmingŪ
LOST COAST The Saga of the Sandman:
Keeper of the Eternal Flame, Surf stories, and the PNW.
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