The last few days have seen lots of quiet little waves. This morning I woke to a bit of thunder and saw waves breaking at the point. I had an hour. Surf was bigger than I like so I grabbed my camera and got a few shots. Enjoy a minute of today’s fine footed friends.
Linda Mar SUP and Surf Oct 14, 2019 from Tom Adams on Vimeo.
The daily prompt is for the Key Takeaway, but Takeoff, a surf term describing the moment of catching a wave, whether on surf board or SUP, is what you may want your blog to do.
If I could only make one suggestion, take the Blogging 101 class. For one it will engage you with the community. Your blog will blossom under the guidance of those who know and you’ll build a community by simply taking the class. If you’ve already taken Blogging 101 then take Blogging 201 Branding and Growth and blast your blog forward fast.
But if you don’t have time for these classes, which pay hearty dividends right out of the gate, then get involved in events, and comment on those who participate.
And if you don’t have time for events, then spend 10 minutes a day, ten measly minutes, and just write what’s on your mind. Here’s a video from Blogging 201 by Andrea Badgley, who got way busy with work but found ten minutes a day and it worked. You can watch it here.
If you don’t have ten minutes a day, then I’m sure you’ll do the best that you can. Key Takeaway
My mom was afraid of the pier. It was tall and could carry us way past the breakers where fishermen tossed their lines far into the sea. From below, surfers yelled at each other and rode crashing waves toward the pilings all crusted with barnacles, star fish and bits of fiberglass from the mistimed maneuver. When the waves hit the piles the pier shook like the ocean had some hold on it. But the pier was sturdy and wide with lean white buildings sporting shiny glass windows where life guards kept watch over their flocks. The bait shop had red licorice on racks and anchovies in tanks. They flashed streaks of silver when we bumped the tub with our hips. The bait man’s tiny furry eyes did not want us messing with his fish.
Past the bait shop my mom would not venture. It was over water and there were hooks on the pavement, old men smoking, and kids casting for the first time. It was deliciously dangerous. But it was years before we could go it alone.
The afternoon beach was tuna sandwiches with sweet pickle, wrapped in crunchy waxed paper, cool crisp grapes and soft juicy plums, plus a bag or two of Fritos. The air was thick with salt spray and Coppertone.
Our cabin, the Mackerel, was tropical paradise on the outside. A patio with hand-made wooden chairs, was shaded by dry palm branches. Inside it was creaky plywood floors, painted some kind of brown, peeling from weather, and always coated with sand. Mother moaned of bugs crawling along the Formica counter, pale blue like her eyes. Hot skillet stains could not be cleaned, but it only bothered her. I saw none of this; only a room with the sound of the ocean, right across the street. Every day held the promise of another day at the beach.
We have surf right in front of our world famous Taco Bell. It might be the only Taco Bell on the planet built on the beach. It has stunning views, and at high tide, during a large swell, the surf might flow under the building. But let’s discuss soft top boards, not soft shell tacos.
I saw this guy heading out to surf with a soft top board, like those pictured above, but his was white with blue stripes. Soft tops are the board of choice for most surf schools, since they soften the inevitable fall. I assumed, therefore, that the guy was a beginner.
There were close ups of gulls posing beside the terminus of San Pedro Valley Creek and surf scoters gliding effortlessly over the low tide swell. The guy on the white and blue board, who was hardly a beginner, gave me a handfull of fun waves.