Gordo said the weekend seemed like it "went on forever because we were out doing things." I'll take that — it was intended in a good way. And now, he said, he has to go back to school.
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| Swell period chart. That green/pale green, was touching L.I., just enough to set off the perfect swell for a great day's shoulder-high surf. |
( This was one perfect outdoor recreational weekend, so I guess it makes one appreciate it a little more for what it can offer. The options were, at the very least, windsurfing, cycling, golf, mountain biking, surfing and maybe even paddleboarding, if you din't mind being a "human sail" at times.)
It's 10:49 pm and I am still "charged-up."
The energy the ocean can give you is nobody's business.
The ocean looked calm enough; a moderate offshore wind smoothing things down. Sculpting the waves into perfect lefts, the occasional right and some equally perfect closeouts.
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| small swell, medium period = go time + fun till darkness. |
Sunday, we just got back from Long Beach, "Surfed" till sunset. Gordo's first real surf lesson. Plenty of whitewater sleighrides on what Moostang called the "old Blue Bomber," the 9'6" Ricky Carroll noserider.
When we arrived, and a faily sizeable trick storm swell was jacking up waist to shoulder to head high waves on a 2'6" storm swell. 10 surfers were on each break, and it was a question of was there enough room, or should we dive west. Certainly the waves were perfect here.
A trio of surfers dropped out, so we decided to stay. Just as we did a couple more surfers arrived in a VW Camperbus of Awesomeness, and got right to work.
There was plenty of room, despite the minor crowd. More than enough waves to go around.
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| It's amazing how wrong —yet informational — a surf report can be. A 2 ft swell can certainly be knee high at worst, but combine it with a 10 second period and a distant storm, and you have the recipe of surf that attracts the hordes ... until darkness and beyond. |
And we left at sunset., just as a crazy bird tweeting whacko decided to ride his MTB right at the boards — it was, of course, Mustang Steve. My last text to him was simply "Grand," as in Grand Ave. Mustang was little tight after a couple of days constant swell, so he decided to bike down to say Hi. Great to see the man, after so long.
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| Sandy Hook was clearly visible. Oil tankers lined up for miles to dock in New York, or at the offshore terminal. We spent a few minutes discussing how far offshore the behemoth vessels were, and how much of a swim that might be. New Jersey that way, the Caribbean that way, Africa that way, Spain that way, Ireland and England that way, and points northeast that way. |
Saturday had been windy, but not too windy, so we went to Joe's Beach., to get a windsurfing lesson in.
There were moments there I thought I saw Joe getting his gear into the water. I guess it was just some other guy with a hairy back, but for a moment I thought it was Joe.
The teaching was tough sledding with the heavy chop and my insufficient teaching skills, even though I once was a certified instructor. "I got this" said G.
But it was not that easy. Skipping steps in the learning process ... well those are just corners that can't be cut.
But all the same, Gordo got a few short runs in. He deserves some flat water next time, for an easier time.
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