Interesting letters....

I originally wrote this blog for my 10 or so friends I keep in touch with.
They are scattered around.
Easy to update.

At first
they were the only people reading.

At first.

Now random people write me letters.

I never write back.
And none of the writers have ever mentioned their real name.

Blogging feels ridiculously narcissistic.
Getting a little old already.
I was just curious how blogging worked?

SO...
One day I posted a few photos of beautiful surf of my home.

I was born and raised here.
This is my home.
25 years of cold water.
Tried to leave twice.
Came back.
5 of those years I was out of the water from a back injury from dropping in on to rock.
Feet first.
Compression of the spine.
Gained 30 pounds.
Lost it riding a bike along the beach.
I still live with the bulging discs.

Another 4 years kept me out because of surfer's ear.

I was out for 9 years.
Spent a winter in Mexico kitesurfing.
Got back in shape and ready to paddle back out.

Got back on my surfboard 2 years ago.
Still nursing the back.
But I am in the best shape of my life mentally, physically, spiritually---literally.
People don't recognize me.
New 'locals' stink eye me.
Strange.

Every once and a while an old timer tilts his head and puts it together.
They say the same thing every time.
'you look so different?'

It's the only place that many of us would even want to be a surfer.
Still amazed by our place---every day.
The most heavily localized point break and stretch of sand on the west coast.

The history here goes way back.
Way before John Mel set up a surf shop on Hwy 101.
Way before he moved to Santa Cruz and birthed Peter Mel---famed mavericks madman.
The history here is deeper than surfing.
This is the oldest city on the entire west coast.
My grandfather and great uncle worked at the shingle mill in Astoria back in the late 1920's.
My great grandfather fished here in the 1800's.
They came over from Scandanavia.
They watched the same waves.
Walked the same sand.
Tried to catch the same elusive salmon.
Too cool.

So I got a few letters.
About those photos of our sacred spot.

And yep.
You are right.
It's true.
Bad bad idea.
It's like bitching about people hitting on your girlfriend
and then putting nude pictures of her all over the internet.

I whine about crowded surf.
And post a photo to contribute to it.

The saying is true.
"Some excitement is meant only to be contained."

So no more surf porn of the sacred.
Pics are removed.

And this must be what blogging is all about.
Called out on my own bullshit.

Thanks anonymous writers.

Point taken.