Surfer Boys

Go strip off your clothes that are a nuisance in this mellow clime. Get in and wrestle with the sea; wing your heels with the skill and power that reside in you, hit the sea's breakers, master them, and ride upon their backs as a king should. - Jack London 

This girl traveled to the North Shore of Oahu... if I close my eyes and just sit, I can go back there. 

Click on images to enlarge

Sitting, feet completely buried in the coarse, cool sand.  A fine mist of rain cools things down a bit..clouds came and went.  This surfer guy walks past us and smiles, a local guy I think.  He sits nearby, watching the surf, just as we were.  I wondered what he was thinking, this surfer guy and his board. Waiting for the right time to get out there.  Funny thing was, I was imagining what it might be like if I was out there, a surfer girl.  I was thinking of those long summer days, so long ago.. sun kissed, beach loving, bikini clad, So Cal girl I once was.  Not thinking twice about challenging the ocean and it's power for a ride in the surf.  

I could almost touch a day much like this one, it being so real in my mind. 

Between glimpses of local boys and their boards falling and rising with the beat of the waves in turquoise surf, I'd fall back in to the dream of those beach days...catching a wave, no board needed, riding...fast! a powerful force of each mounting crescent...sometimes the perfect ride, sometimes tumbling, rolling...sometimes hitting bottom and walking dazed, but smiling to the shore.  

Back here, toes in the sand, I watch the surfer guy next to us grab his board and head out.  

I remember now, what it was...The blue of water and sky..the rhythmic pull of water crashing on the shore...I'm pretty sure that's why I came here to live out a wild adventure at 19. Just as these surfer boys rode these wild waves, small by Waimea standards, it was still a good show for us who came here to watch and dream.

Waimea, North Shore,  Sunset Beach "Pipeline"

Well I hope you understand, I just had to go back to the Island...


                                                             ~Leon Russell

Lovin' the Dirt

On countless adventures traveling south on Highway 101, as we pass hill upon hill of giant sleeping elephants dotted with tangled oaks, vineyards and endless sky, my guy always shouts out, "ZACA STATION!"  I smile and glance over at him..his boyish grin, longing for his turn on these unknown whoops, turns, and straight-aways; dark loamy dirt that he or his Honda 450, have never tasted.  But today was a different day than all those others in our travels; we made the turn.  All three of us, dog included, bumping along on the three miles of unmarked dirt road, leaving a trail of dust behind, eyes peeled for any slight clue of what was to come.  White faced, sweet-eyed cows stopped us in our tracks..the dog and I delighted at their curiosity and silliness..lacey Spanish Moss hanging from ancient oaks.. a world far removed and greener, quieter from any I'd recently been accustomed to.  Jim next to me, intent with excitement and anticipation of getting on with it.  Ah, at last there it is...the smile on his face broadens..I can't do anything but smile myself. Unloaded, gear on, and off he goes. I sit in the quiet of the truck, watching my man eye the dirt, following the curve and lay of the track..anticipating those so-often imagined turns, whoops and straightaways that are oh-so real on this fine spring day.

I have realized long ago that this man I married, has a passion that feeds his soul. It is there, it is always there...

I can only imagine what he feels like out there, wheels spinning on that powerful machine, flying.. never more free in those moments than he will ever be, anywhere else...

                                                                                                                          

"Racing is life. Anything before or after is just waiting."

          

                                                      ~Steve McQueen

    

In search of Spring...

After all, I don't see why I am always asking for private, individual, selfish miracles when every year there are miracles like white dogwood.  ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh

In my travels, I often see things that make me stop in my tracks..

High Country

Before climbing this mountain, I could only imagine what heaven must be like...

Lost Peak

Helms Meadow