Shell Soup

Below the Waterline

Let's go swimming!

Mendocino swimming.
5/4 surfing wetsuit with an integral hood.

Beauty Above

Why I kayak and free dive.

Not all the payoff is below the waterline.

Arches

 I have been paddling out of Van Damme State Beach for years, but I tend to head north for the sea-caves I know.  Frankly, I'm feeling a bit silly for not pushing just a little more south even when conditions call for more caution.  Some of the sea-caves and arches I paddled through yesterday are just one bit further from a very cautious paddle, meaning right next-door.  I've swam within 100 yards of a very cool arch withot realizing just how close I've come in the past.

These last few years I've been paddling south with my fishing pal JP, but we haven't really had reason to check out Buckhorn Cove and points south.  Despite the heavy fog, we fished and paddled further and further south until we passed the point and worked our way back.  I was so overjoyed to discover arches and sea-caves that I hadn't visited in decades--or perhaps never at all--so the day was especially special.  Most times, the paddle back against the wind argues for not going too far south.  I now know the counter-argument for going south!

A Good Catch

JP netting a good-sized lingcod.

Foggy: Fishing and Paddling

"Waiting for Ghoti"  -- if you know that G. B. Shaw respelling of "fish".  

(GH of "rough"; O of "women"; TI of "nation".)

Purely existential.

My view.  

Into the void?

"Marco?" . . . .

. . . "Polo?"

A little further south.  Fog not so strong near the shore . . . the rocky shore.

Trying to photograph water again.
Using the rock and the swell . . . to what effect?

As Audience, As Witness

As I was getting coffee at the cafe this morning, I had a gentleman walk up to me and ask about the Bamboo Reef t-shirt I was wearing.  He wanted to know if the business were still in operation, and I named Monterey and SF as ongoing locations.  He then told me his father had been one of Bamboo Reef's three founders--with Al Giddings and Leroy French -- back in 1961.  We chatted briefly, me asking about his father's name (which I now can't recall, grrr), and then he moved on.

I'm guessing he wasn't a diver like his father, or at least not a local diver, or he would have known . . . but we didn't talk about any of that.

I like how the man wanted to connect with something his father had helped make -- and to say it out loud -- and I, random fellow that I am, was able to participate as audience, as witness.