We have known for quite awhile that this past weekend was one loaded with way cool, super-fun things to do. There was the Renaissance Fair in Sarasota! The Sandcastle Festival on Siesta Key! The Chalk Art Fest right here in Venice! Wow! And that's just the things that were most interesting to us within a very reasonable 30 minute drive. We had no idea which thing or things to choose!
We talked about it but decided to wait until the weekend and decide then. I kept shifting my choices, changing my mind. Back and forth, 'round and 'round. Tooo Many Great Options!
And then I got sick. What a party pooper I am. Friday is just a blur to me. Sad but true. By the time Saturday rolled around, I was feeling a bit better and slowly starting to introduce food to my system but I wasn't really up to anything that required more energy than showering. I even took a break between putting on the right shoe and the left. What a wimp! So ultimately the decisions was, we would skip those events this year. Booooo.
The weather was a surprisingly cool 57 degrees when we woke up on Saturday. Brisk! And since it was windy, damp and grey all day as well, it felt very New England to us. We felt kind of nostalgic. We lazed around for awhile but eventually just had to get out of the house, even just for a short time.
Naturally we found our way to the jetty, by car. I was absolutely not up to the walk. We were surprised to find it absolutely packed with vehicles. Gloomy, chilly days usually are totally empty jetty days. Turns out there were some awesome waves! Waves like this can only mean one thing. SURFERS!
I ventured out of the warmth (I just love heated seats) and comfort of Tim's car to take some photos because I just couldn't resist. Surfers and surfing just fascinates me. This was not a warm day, it was not warm water, and yet, as you can see, there they are, bare of foot and bare of various limbs. They clambered down the sharp, rough, rocky sides with large heavy boards tucked under their arms and then into that chilly water risking having their bodies bashed back up against the jetty in the tumultuous ocean.
The surfers spend a goodly amount of time floating on their boards, paddling just enough to stay away from the rocks, waiting for the wave that feels right to them. Then they suddenly stand up (while remaining on the board which to me is amazing enough). The wave rises under them, as if their feet were glued down (and this is the most astonishing part) they almost always stay on the board!
I know that they are shifting their weight imperceptibly, making tiny adjustments this way and that to accommodate the undulations of that ocean beneath but to those of us standing, watching, agog at their athleticism it looks like magic. It's like a very quiet war, the surfers balance and talent versus the briny deep.
Then comes the most surprising part, assuming that they win the battle, as the wave begins to peter out, they just kind of relax and intentionally, INTENTIONALLY, allow themselves to kind of collapse back into the water. Then they climb back aboard and it all starts over again.
It's almost mesmerizing. We watched for a long time.
Considering that I can barely navigate through a doorway without crashing into the frame, I know better than to give surfing a go myself. But perhaps in an alternate universe, I am Gidget hanging ten on my board on the beaches of Cali and the Beach Boys are performing outside and I have that gorgeous sun streaked beach hair and the bikini body? No?
Yup, this is me. Some people said, "Sam, you should write a Blog". "Well, there's a thought", I thought to myself. And so here it is.