No waves dude! That's the first thing my surfing mentor and friend, Brian, said to me when he called me with the surf report last night and again today. No waves! I had actually seen the flatness myself by logging on to several of the webcams. However, I didn't want to believe it was happening again. Ordinarily I would have gone down alone, but Brian reminded me of it being Labor Day weekend and the crowds I would experience on the Friday afternoon before a long weekend. I had other things to keep me busy today anyway, but still, I missed going to the beach. So, I went shopping at the surf shop. I didn't buy anything, but I eyed a couple of really pretty fiberglass and epoxy boards. I also went to Sun & Ski to check on wetsuits. I knew they carried 3-2s, but I wasn't sure if I would be able to find a 5-4-3. To my surprise, they didn't have ANY wetsuits. Apparently it's a seasonal item and when I asked when they would get some in, the clerk said January. January? I might need it before then, so I'll definitely have to order it on the Internet. I know I'm going to need it and, more than likely, before January. I hate being cold.
The weather this weekend has been forecasted as rainy. I hate to hear that too, since I want to be able to surf at least one day during this long weekend. This will also require a wind-shift so that waves can be created. Brian is calling me on Saturday night to let me know about Sunday's forecast. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
I was planning to close today's blog with a poem about the ocean, but, after my rather bold Facebook statement about southern writers being the best, I decided the poem definitely had to be written by a Southerner. However, I couldn't find one in any of my anthologies. I also couldn't find one on the Web. I know there are plenty out there, but I guess since I needed it right away, I would not be able to locate one. All I could think of was Kate Chopin's novel, "The Awakening." But, then I realized I didn't really want to include a suicide beach scene in my surfing blog. Death by drowning is never a good way to think about surfing. So now I'm on a quest to find a good southern beach poem. Oh, and I definitely need some waves.
p.s. The photo posted with this blog is not from Friday, Sept. 4. It's just an example of what Galveston surfers experience at the end of summer when we want to surf.
