Tuesday, April 03, 2007
T Street
Two noteworthy things happened yesterday, #1 being The Capt'n went to San Clemente.
<---Not this San Clemente,
but this one, in the O.C.--->
T Street, to be exact.
I wasn't sure at first. I should be excited about the new spots but instead I'm pretty leery due to the considerable choad factor as of late. I'd stopped by beautiful San Onofre first, wanting to finally try it, but not wanting to pay the $10 parking fee, for some stupid reason. I think it would have been a good day there, but I'll just have to postpone that joy till next time. The nice ranger at the parking booth told me about T Street, a little further to the north. He said it was his favorite place, and when I asked if there were any lefts there and he said yes, I was sold.
It looked big, clean and walled, and the water was that pretty light green.
Not horribly crowded. I told myself, just 3 waves, hang out to the side, let the choads pass, pick up some shoulders, nothing fancy. The paddle out was a little roughneck on my big winnebago since the swell had some power.
But dag it was so beautiful. Which did much to counter the fact that, to my dismay, there were ALL dudes, 99% on short boards, and only one was over 50 years old. I told myself to stay in my own happy, separatist place, and it worked. The two dolphins who were like 10 feet away from me plus the lack of any horrible teenagers also helped a lot to get me to the ambrosia.
I didn't used to sweat the choad so much. I hope this virus passes soon. Where is my old East Coast psychic armor when I need it? Anyhow, despite my new jaded outlook, I had a killer time out there. I ended up catching a ton of waves, and a few were pretty mad, I have to say. What's not to love about rocketing along the beautiful green wall that is taller than you?
The other noteworthy event was the beginning of Pesach at sunset.
I am glad you experienced the green wall. I can really go for that right now. I am full of zombiness.
: 9:51 AM : 10:55 AM Capt'n I'm picturing you in your holiday best.
My friend Paul Steinberg told me his toast from last night- "they tried to kill us, we lived, let's eat." I think that pretty much covers it.
Am going to finish that piece we talked about real soon and send it to the Team's R & D department.
Peeds think of our green wall near L.I.C. and let me know.
I got Yoko Ono's new album I really like most of it she rocks out at 70.
oxox
: 1:12 PM Gree--we must hit the LIC wall real soon. For reals already!
: 8:12 PM standing at her helm but Bulkington! I looked with sympathetic awe and fearfulness upon the man, who in mid-winter just landed from a four years' dangerous voyage, could so unrestingly push off again for still another tempestuous term. The land seemed scorching to his feet. Wonderfullest things are ever the unmentionable; deep memories yield no epitaphs; this six-inch chapter is the stoneless grave of Bulkington. Let me only say that it fared with him as with the storm-tossed ship, that miserably drives along the leeward land. The port would fain give succor; the port is pitiful; in the port is safety, comfort, hearthstone, supper, warm blankets, friends, all that's kind to our mortalities. But in that gale, the port, the land, is that ship's direst jeopardy; she must fly all hospitality; one touch of land, though it but graze the keel, would make her shudder through and through. With all her might she crowds all sail off shore; in so doing, fights 'gainst the very winds that fain would blow her homeward; seeks all the lashed sea's landlessness again; for refuge's sake forlornly rushing into peril; her only friend her bitterest foe!
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10 Comments:
Happy Pesach Capt'n. I had some rolls today that were made just with matzoh and egg and stuff and they were really good!
I am glad you experienced the green wall. I can really go for that right now. I am full of zombiness.
By , at
9:51 AM
Were they sushi rolls? That sounds tres avant garde. Here's hoping you find your own green wall, peeds.
By 
The Capt'n, at
9:56 AM
I'm a simple guy. All it takes is some green wallage for my whole world view to change for the better.
By The Capt'n, at
9:58 AM
I am on a quest for green wallage. The rolls were like dinner rolls and I warmed them up and put butter and blood orange jam on them--yummers. My newly jewish friend made them.
By , at
10:55 AM
J is for jealous.
By The Capt'n, at
11:06 AM
hello Capt'n and Peeds
Capt'n I'm picturing you in your holiday best.
My friend Paul Steinberg told me his toast from last night- "they tried to kill us, we lived, let's eat." I think that pretty much covers it.
Am going to finish that piece we talked about real soon and send it to the Team's R & D department.
Peeds think of our green wall near L.I.C. and let me know.
I got Yoko Ono's new album I really like most of it she rocks out at 70.
oxox
By , at
1:12 PM
I'll look out for it, gree.
Oh and peeds, to clarify: I am the one who is j.
By The Capt'n, at
6:03 PM
I had to take a TB test today and the lady told me I couldn't surf or swim or even get soap on "the spot" till Thursday. WTF? Doesn't she know we got some nice swell up in here?
By The Capt'n, at
6:05 PM
TB, that is so passe. But don't do anything rash, Cap. We want you healthy on the swell.
Gree--we must hit the LIC wall real soon. For reals already!
By , at
8:12 PM
capt you are in the delightful - sounds sublime- a quote from surf daddy melville in your honor- shalom
standing at her helm but Bulkington! I looked with sympathetic awe and fearfulness upon the man, who in mid-winter just landed from a four years' dangerous voyage, could so unrestingly push off again for still another tempestuous term. The land seemed scorching to his feet. Wonderfullest things are ever the unmentionable; deep memories yield no epitaphs; this six-inch chapter is the stoneless grave of Bulkington. Let me only say that it fared with him as with the storm-tossed ship, that miserably drives along the leeward land. The port would fain give succor; the port is pitiful; in the port is safety, comfort, hearthstone, supper, warm blankets, friends, all that's kind to our mortalities. But in that gale, the port, the land, is that ship's direst jeopardy; she must fly all hospitality; one touch of land, though it but graze the keel, would make her shudder through and through. With all her might she crowds all sail off shore; in so doing, fights 'gainst the very winds that fain would blow her homeward; seeks all the lashed sea's landlessness again; for refuge's sake forlornly rushing into peril; her only friend her bitterest foe!
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