"At this time, no injuries are reported in Capitola, and we want to keep it that way!"

The Covid years of our lives are, mercifully, behind us. Dark days when humans wandered around very scared of each other’s germs. Distance and distrust codified into statues ruling every human interaction. Practicing not just caution but an “abundance of caution” the proper social flex.

The “abundance of caution” was liberally employed to cancel, or otherwise restrict, all manner of joy and fun. Parties, picnics, surf contests. Ruling like a power-starved dictator until the disease finally ran its course through the population and folk abandoned it for subway surfing.

Well, in a shock turn few saw coming, the “abundance of caution” is back. Days ago, northern California experienced a wild run of unruly swell. Quaint Capitola, near Santa Cruz, did not like the big surf, even though the sun was shining and the birds singing. It did not want surfers surfing in it nor spectators even watching it.

But what to do?

Dust off the old chestnut is what.

The local police department shuttered the beach and the city released the following statement over social media.

As of approximately noon on 3/1/25 Capitola PD, Central Fire, State Parks, and Harbor Patrol have responded to multiple serious water rescues off of the Capitola Beach. Out of an abundance of caution the Capitola Beach and Wharf are closed until approximately 4 pm due to high surf, crowd size, and fast moving debris as a potential danger to public safety. At this time, no injuries are reported in Capitola, and we want to keep it that way!

No reported injuries. An “abundance of caution” locking it all down to keep it that way.

Does it warm your heart to see the phrase return or does it give you PTSD?

I wonder how disgraced former World Surf League CEO Erik Logan feels?

"This fella would literally run you over with the ski..."

Most surfers of a certain age were raised on diet of surf mags that celebrated going hard, rooting “chicks,” rude surf wear that was 85.8% covered in logos from 4 different companies and of course, hating bodyboarders.

Now I personally never really thought about why I hated Boogers. It just was so sub-consciously ingrained. It certainly didn’t help the cause that the only one I ever knew growing up was a weird dork. Sure there was certain mostly true stereotypes of pre-pubescent skinny 12 year olds doing 5x lame 360’s on soft shoulders, but there just weren’t many in my world.

As a weak minded feeble teenager surfer not looking to stand out from the crowd due to the fear of some naked hazing ritual in the carpark, it was just easier to roll with the pack. Hating Boogers, pretending to like ciggies and laughing at the older local heroes lame jokes was the safest way to navigate those testosterone fueled years of the early 90’s

My first real exposure to our flippered friends was seeing one free falling 15 meters inside the pack wave after wave into some throaty death barrels on an Indonesian reef break. Instant respect in my mind as the rest of us quivered on the shoulder on our 7 foot plus guns.

But you know who didn’t roll with the pack? Boogers. Way too busy quietly pioneering death barrels over nutty rock ledges while we chased long point breaks.

Boring perfection they just had zero interest in.

Just like surfers being late to the party at said slabs, we’re late to finding this absolutely hilarious yarn from New Zealand bodyboarder Sam Wells about a run in with a local stand up enforcer on a jet ski.

It’s from the equally hilarious Podcast from a couple of my southern brothers The Fumanswoo Podcast. Well worth a listen and maybe even a like and subscribe if you want to hear more about bodyboarders dissing Nate Florence for being a sissy boy scared of dirty water, mid-lenghth surfboard advice, circle jerks, more WSL moaning than here, group didgeridoo sexual intercourse sessions and general peeping-tom behaviour from our lay down friends.

Oh and dirty Wendy chit chat.

Good old Wendy.