Small waves. Cute hitchhikers…
I left Kauai under cloudy skies. The thirty-minute flight to Oahu didn’t improve things.
Always my favorite type of weather when I lived on the Gathering Place. Cloudy, steady drizzle, still pleasantly warm. It keeps the lesser element indoors. Tourists gathered around television sets in their hotel rooms. Only the hardiest venture out.
“I’ve been saving for years to take this trip. Rain be damned, we’re going to the fucking beach!”
But nothing stops the turtle traffic. Lolly-gagger halfwits cruising down Kam at five miles per hour. “Didja see the turtle, Sue? Wasn’t it big? Ya’ know, the Hawaiians call ’em hoh- news.”
Things don’t heat up until swell starts hammering in out of the North. When you can smell the salt in the air, feel the energy in your bones. When the sky is cloaked in a blanket of ocean spray.
Enough of that for a lifetime.
Not much swell, no way the Pipe trials are running yet. Not yesterday, not today, not tomorrow. Putting me at loose ends. Gotta find something to justify this trip. Drinking myself into a stupor ain’t gonna cut it. We need zazz, zing! Gotta get those clicks and keep ’em coming.
Fuck me if I know how. Hawaii is, by nature, pretty sedate when there’s barely an swell in the water. Things don’t heat up until swell starts hammering in out of the North. When you can smell the salt in the air, feel the energy in your bones. When the sky is cloaked in a blanket of ocean spray.
But that ain’t today.
Making calls, sending emails, dropping in on old friends. Not as many out here as there once was. Everybody leaves. I did. As grand as Oahu may be, and it truly is a magnificent place, it ain’t hardly the best in the world.
If you want solitude you can find it other places. If you need money that’s doubly true. Takes a ton of commitment to settle down on the Seven Mile Miracle and never leave. I lack the fortitude.
But the surf is still fun. No heart-in-your-throat excitement, but plenty good times to be had. Took a drive down to Foodland yesterday. Checked the surf along the way. Picked up two cute hitchikers out front of Malama Market.
“Now I know where you’re staying.”
Not a funny joke. At least, they didn’t think so.
Go by the Eric Arakawa factory. They look like a fun bunch. ‘Pay for your boards or she will tap you out.’ Ha! http://www.ericarakawasurfb…
Maybe we could help you out and start a Yelp page for Rory Parker Hitchhiked Rides so the creeper rumor doesn’t gain traction.
So where’d you surf?
Uncle Stew’s backyard.
where’d you take that pic of jordy at?