Return to Sponge Mountain
On the trip out of SFO I met three Bay Area folks. Yesterday, after my second session of theday on a 7´6 fun board to haul one great overhead wave and some pounding, I came into shore to run into the three folks from the airport sitting on the sand.
We met later that eveningfor a drink and got to talking about all manner of things, particularly with Paull, a widower for years after his wife and young son perished on Higway 17 in the years before the center median was put in to keep drunk drivers on their side of the road. The pain is still totally apparent two decades later, how incomprehensible.
It turns out Paull is Chrisitian, an avid sponger and a huge fan of my favorite beach, Manresa. He has kep his faith despìte the tragedy he has faced, and he lives a life still with joy. I plan on keeping in touch with him fo sponge sessions back when north swell season hits our area.
We paddled out this morning... Ahh, the ease of the duckdive, the intuition on the wave, the gas it is to skip down the face like a flat rounded stone... Waves I have been biffing, or not ridingal the way down the line, all the previous week, became so much simpler to ride...
I need to make sure I always am a proud sponger, never a reluctant dick dragger, forever an intractible speed bump. No matter the mind of others. Easier for me to catch that wave for the sake of my board? Is that my problem or yours...
In some ways I realize I started stand up surfing as much to move up the totem pole as to take on a challenge. Perhaps accepting the fact that I am best on a disrespected vessel is the lesson of humility I need most to learn. I have loved the waves I have caught standing up here an do intend to keep at it, but a heart I remain a lover of the sponge.
Image from:http://www.inkycircus.com/jar...View image on Bing
