Last night I set my alarm for possibly the latest morning time it has been set: 10:50am. Winter break has been good to me. Even thought I didn't hear it, I still got up around 11:00. Still in time for a good low tide. Even though there were light peppering raindrops out my window, I was pulled west non the less. When I got to the spot I could see a few more people had also braved the trickle and seemed to be catching a few here and there. I pondered staying high and dry for the day, not having to treck down and dunk into icy water. Oh, might as well.
I grabbed my backpack and board and started for the goat trail. After not-so-slowly oozing down a few feet (cute, not so sturdy rainboots, not such a good choice), I concluded, with the help of a few laughs behind me, that the long way round would be wise. It was quite the venture to retrace my slips back to where I had begun. Even the long way proved itself to be no ease. Wind blew my board like a sail and blew me like a little lost boat but eventually I reached the end of the mud, then the sand, then the rocks then the bench.
Once I was suited up and into the blackish ice water, I paddled into the line up carful not to get to wet so I could stay warm and tried not to think of storm drain pollution. I sat cold, bare footed. The hole in the neoprene of my left forearm and nee did not prove helpful. Then I noticed the wind had left. The next few waves glassed with silver perfection. It was like a hidden, winter Malibu under a layer of gray, wet sky and marine clouds. A faint rainbow came into the distance and soon the clouds in the distance began to dissolve. The distant north bay seemed washed clean and golden. Even Fido came to watch with us. Happy new year.
Art: Claude Monet, Eddie Davis
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