Date: Mon, 31 Mar 1997
From: barney
Subject:
Re: World Surf Day has Begun
Newsgroups: alt.surfing
Organization: CitySurfer
Easter Sunday broke fine and fair in NYC. I called Digital Dave over in Hell’s Kitchen at about 7 am. He picked up on the fifth ring.
“Well, whaddya think? NOAA has the Fire Island bouy at 5 feet.”
“Yea, but these west winds, I dunno,” Dave didn’t sound very impressed. “Here let me check their web site. . . Yea, says right here under detailed wave data: swell is 2 feet from the southeast, wind wave is 3 feet out of the west. That’s what’s making the bouy go off.”
“So, no go, huh?”
“Not today. We’ll talk to ya later.” Dave hung up.
I stared at the board and wetsuit sitting on the living room carpet. I called the surf report at Lido. “Longboardable,” it said. Hmm, longboardable is better than noboardable and, unlike Dave, I didn’t have a bodacious new bride waiting in my bed for my return. So, why not?
There was no traffic on the LIE, an unheard-of state of affairs for a road also known as “The World’s Longest Parking Lot.” And it was a beautiful day. The forsythia was in bloom and thru the trees on the side of the road I could see that pale wash of green that signals spring in this part of the country.
The walk out to the jetty at the West End of Jones Beach is a long one, usually made longer by the clouds of mosquitos that rise out of the swamp grass like an ill wind. But not today; those airborne bloodsuckers haven’t hatched yet.
The swell looked pretty good — maybe waist to shoulder high — and combed nicely by an offshore wind. Unfortunately the tide was too high for any of the sandbars to break. The waves rose over the bars, tantalizingly close to feathering, and then disappeared into deeper water before walling up and collapsing on the beach. The only spot that was working was a small peak hard by the jetty.
A crew of five surfers was working the peak in tight rotation. It was a brief righthander — a bottom-turn, a top turn and it was over.
I sat on a boulder to watch. The Army Corps of Engineers had been busy: the jetty was twice as long as it was last year and hundreds of boulders scattered across the sand suggested more work to come.
One of the surfers got out of the water and walked up to where I was sitting. He was a big guy; definitely trouble in a bar fight. “Hey what time is it?” he asked.
“Around noon,” I said. “How was it this morning?”
“Not bad, except for the crowd. This must be the heaviest spot on the whole coast and it’s because of those four guys right there. They’re just mean.”
I shrugged and looked at the quartet of surfers still in the water. They didn’t look mean. They looked sort of fat and clumsy in their 5mm suits and they weren’t exactly shredding. I turned to say as much to the big guy, but he was already walking back along the beach. Well, I thought, let ‘em have it. That wave wasn’t worth fighting over.
Out at Robert Moses the sandbars were working fine. A knot of 15 surfers was sitting on a peak right in front of the lodge at Field 3, and a crowd of families and kite flyers were already on the beach. People still dressed in their church clothes arrived at the edge of the sand, took off their shoes, and walked down to the water.
I felt like a pagan crawling into my rubber skin, but I was here for a different kind of service. I paddled out to a bar about 200 yards from the pack and waited for it to break again. It did, but in the wrong place. And just as quickly as the wall appeared, it disappeared again as it slid off into deeper water. Maybe, I thought as I paddled for and missed another wave, the pack was right. So I paddled over to check it out.
Got launched on the first wave I tried for; dug the nose in and went right over the handlebars. That’s my standard opening move. The pack, I noticed, gave me a little more room. The next wave was better — a fast lefthander that broke in two sections. I made the second section, but rode a little too far in and nearly got hammered into the sand.
The crowd thinned out after an hour, and as the tide drropped the waves got hollower. Pulled into a couple of closeouts and came up laughing. The water was 42 degrees F., but on a sunny day in the 60s it felt much warmer than that. Stayed in for two hours, most of it with the hood pulled down on my 5/4/3 Body Glove. The waves got a little smaller, but with the wind steady WNW, they held their shape. Not bad for a day that was supposed to be barely “longboardable”.
Afterwards, I sat on the sand watching the only guy still in the water. He took off on a steep one and pulled a faceplant. But his next wave was a hollow shoulder-high righthander. He stayed right in the pocket and finished the ride with a nice floater.
Then I was distracted by this barefoot blonde bopping down the strand. She was wearing a set of headphones and tight bluejeans, and the way she moved under her fleece shirt hinted at wonderous new worlds as yet unexplored.
Yea, spring is here; I just saw April walking down the beach.
Date: Mon, 24 Mar 1997
To: Mr. Ryan
From: barney
Subject: Re: march 26-28
Did you get out in the water Saturday? I really wasn’t expecting much when we drove out to Montauk last Saturday noon, but it was pretty good. That weak front plus the offshore disturbance shown on the Navy models was kicking back a decent 7 ft. swell, nicely shaped by a moderate 15-20 knot breeze. The Ditch for some reason was a hash, but below the bluffs on the old Montauk highway, just west of town, there were some sandbars that were working pretty well.
I was with my non-surfing friend, Andy, and one other guy who paddled out at the same time we did. This young guy was just back from 4 months in Costa Rica and he was completely bumming on the heavy rubber deal. He got a few short rides and got out. Andrew was working on his own heavy rubber problem — he was wearing a 7mm two-piece dive suit that must have felt like trying to paddle in a wet sleeping bag. To his credit, he got outside twice and caught one fast belly-ride to the beach.
On the other hand, I was perfectly toasty in my new suit and starting to get used to that buffered feeling of wearing 5mm of rubber. I stayed out for an hour and a half and rode four waves. One of them, a wedging, hollow left, made me forget all about the wetsuit and just concentrate on trimming up the face to get under the lip as it threw out. I got in there, but not far enough — the lip knocked me off the board.
Then the tide changed and the swell dropped and the waves began to break all over the inside shoals. The wave window was probably open for only four or five hours on the East End, but at least I got a piece of it. Hope you did, too.
Will stay in touch re: coming swell.
Date: Wed, 2 Apr 1997
To: D R : barney
Subject: Re: Waves, what waves?
I got to remember to call those surf reports. Dragged my ass out of bed early this morning and drove all the way to Lido for … knee high waves. And that was on the sets, the average wave looked to be about two seagulls high.
Ahhhhhhhh. What a fickle ocean this is. Post ya later.
Date: Tue, 15 Apr 1997
From: barney
Subject: Gilgo surf report 4/14
Newsgroups: alt.surfing
Organization: CitySurfer
Surf report for Gilgo, Long Island, NY, Monday, April 14: Wind: 20-30 knts. out of NW Swell: From the South, waist to head high Crowd: 4, then 2 Water temp: 44F Tide: rising
Digital Dave and Barney caught the end of the south swell yesterday. Was a bit nippy in the howling offshores and the breeze did hammer down the swell somewhat, but there were a few nice walls rolling through.
Dave caught a good one and pulled a cool coffin move when the lip smacked him off his feet and he landed on his board, flat on his back, feet first, driving toward the shore. Big style points for that one!
Barney managed to snake Dave — the only other guy in the water at that point — on a beautiful right, except Barney went left. Dave looked on in disbelief as Barney drove the wrong way into a collapsing barrel. Score!
If this system coalesces by the end of the week, the Dynamic Duo will be back in the water at a break near you. Look out.
From: barney
Date: Fri, 18 Apr
Subject: East Coast Quarterly Report
Hi Dyan,
It’s a slow night here at data central so I’m catching up on my email.
Life is going on much as it has for the past year. Last I wrote, I was off on a Thanksgiving surfari to the Outer Banks. It was a fun, if solitary, trip. I camped, surfed (scored 2 days of perfect shoulder-high waves) and flew a hanglider off of a sand dune. Spent the Xmas/New Year holiday with the folks in VT. Ate a lot, drank a lot, but didn’t ski much cause the snow sucked. During the last 2 weeks in February I went surfing in Puerto Rico. Fun waves, but no real juice. In March, I wrote a piece for Brooklyn Bridge about beaches here in the borough of Kings and bought a winter wetsuit (5/4/3 Body Glove) at a shop just down the street from your parent’s place in Long Beach. Now I’m working on review of surf videos for Time Out New York. I saw Big Wednesday and Apocalypse Now this afternoon — Surfer Girl and 110/240 are on deck.
Big Wednesday depressed me. It’s a movie about passing youth and mine has passed. After showering, I took time out of my pre-work prepatory frenzy to survey my bald spot. Since it’s on the top of my head, this is kind of tricky. I have to use two mirrors and tilt my head back a bit, but it’s still there and it’s growing larger, like a polar cap at the dawn of a new ice age. Ever since I turned 30, I’ve been chilled by the passing hours. For days at a time I’ll forget and then something will remind me again — a review of a 24-year-old wunderkind novelist, MTV (which reminds me of the youth I never had), or an elegiac movie about over-the-hill surfers — and I’ll mourn for all the things I haven’t done and might never do. This mood stayed with me on the subway where high school kids riding the train home seem incandescent next to the defeated drones on their way to work. At work I sat in my cubicle, stared at the clouds drifting between the spires, and sighed. Two of my defective coworkers were carrying on a conversation nearby. It wasn’t so much a conversation as a transmission of corporate insecurities around a circuit of faulty wiring. I did my best to tune it out. Editing the nonsense that passes for wisdom in the consulting trade made me sadder still. I’ve given nearly five years of my life to this stuff, because it seemed like a good gig while I was working on other things. What other things? Not-writing mostly. It’s a Zennish set of finger exercises (school, fluffy articles about nothing much) that I employ while waiting here in the anteroom to my real life.
The mood began to lift when I went downtown to return the videotapes. At Astor Place there was a crowd of cops standing around a piece of street sculpture. Apparently the skateboard kids had welded jump-ramp to a lightpole. The ramp was made out of heavy steel and affixed to the lamp with a two-inch thick steel bar. The cops seemed puzzled. It made me smile. Then, waiting for the light to change by Cooper Union, I saw an astoundingly beautiful young woman — one of these street angels who walk among us — a glance at her pushed the air right out of me, like a blow to the chest. Guess I’m not dead yet.
On the way back to the subway, I stopped in a crowd of people who were watching a cop take a saw-z-all to the skateboard ramp. Sparks rained from the tool like a fountain. The other cops were clustered in a tableau bleu just outside the circle of fire and noise, watching, like everybody else. At last the heavy steel arm fell to the pavement, the fountain was turned off, and the cop with the saw kicked the steel collar from around the lamppost. Order was restored — but I really enjoyed those few minutes of creative anarchy.
So this is what’s new with me, D. What’s new with you? Have you been out surfing recently? And do you ever put on the Ramones real loud and pogo around the house?
Let me know when you have time.
Date: Tue, 29 Apr 1997
barney and mr.ryan caught a little of tuesday’s swell out at lido beach, long island.
it was really, really good — head high or better and very hollow.
mr.ryan rode his 9’6″ and caught a lot of waves. he also got into more barrels in this one morning than he has in the whole winter, (did i mention it was *very* hollow?) unfortunately, mr.ryan’s barrel riding skills were not up to the day, and he didn’t make it out of even one of those barrels.
barney insisted on riding his 7′ chip and got pounded mercilessly, inventing several new ways to stuff it while taking off. finally he switched to something resembling a real board (an 8′ stewart,) and caught a few of his own.
on the way home, while merging onto the LIE from the cross island parkway, a moto-cop spotted mr.ryan’s out of date inspection sticker and pulled our hapless pair over. not only did this make barney late for work, but the shop says it’s going to cost mr.ryan a grand in parts and labor to pass inspection.
mr.ryan isn’t having much luck with the police these days.
Date: Mon, 28 Apr 1997
From: barney
Subject: Re: demo point 4/24
Fishing area? Whatthefuck kind of bullshit is that? That area’s been a surf zone since Foondoggy rode these waters. I got to call these assholes — Jones beach has a seasonal fishing ban at the West End, but I don’t know of any such ban at Demos. And they probably don’t either — there’s a lot of random enforcement and misinformation among the lifeguards and police who patrol the area.
RI was cool. Caught perfect Pt. Judith on Friday — waist to shoulder with head high + sets coming through. Had some long 100-yard + rides during the 3-hour session and conditions seemed to be improving as I got out of the water.
Saturday was a screwup. Got up late and loafed around. Finally got to Nauset Beach on Cape Cod at 4 in the afternoon. Right area — swell was still solid shoulder high — but it was the wrong beach, and didn’t have time to look for a better break. This is what happens when you try to bring non-surfers to the beach.
Sunday was small, but fun. Went to Naragansett town beach (RI) and rode green, glassy waist high walls in the morning. Wished I had your longboard — I would have been stylin on that.
Maybe if I asked the state park people, in writing, for a schedule of no-surf areas and times (since they seem to change from year to year and person to person), then I’d have something to work with. What do you think?
Also what do you think about Tuesday morning somewhere on LI? Sounds like it could be waist to shoulder w/ offshore breezes.
From: barney
Subject: Re: Opportunity Knocks! –for knuckleheads
Take me off your goddamn mailing list. I’m not interested in your multilevel marketing schemes, or any other variant on the ponzi/tupperware/amway model. Get a real job.
Date: Fri, 2 May 1997
To: DR
From: barney
Subject: Re: Friday morning
Skunked again! Woke up at 8 and switched on the NOAA radio — seas 7′ at 6 seconds with winds gusting up to 40 mph out of the NW. Lido report said “knee-high … unrideable”. So, I figured I’d score some points with Mrs. R. by Not calling.
On the plus side there is Sunday to consider. The pattern looks like a repeat of yesterday’s storm, but maybe those offshore winds won’t be as fierce this time.
Date: Sun, 11 May 1997
From: Mr. Ryan Subject: another bad call
FRIDAY — 10:30PM barney and mr.ryan are peering into their terminals and talking to each other on the phone.
“12 feet at 10 seconds out of the south! the east hatteras buoy is going off! some of that has to makes it’s way up here.”
SATURDAY — 7:00AM barney and mr.ryan each check the data and decide not to call each other. there will be no morning session.
12:00PM mr.ryan notices a blip on the long island buoy, he phones barney. “looks like something is beginning to build out there, we should keep an eye on it.”
2:00PM mr. ryan calls the lido surf report. the 11:00AM update reports a building swell, but a westerly wind messing it up. mr. ryan calls for a jersey update, but no updated information is available. mr.ryan calls barney. “there is definitely something brewing out there, but the wind is very west.”
“jersey?”
“i dunno, i can’t get an update from jersey. the swell is very south. i think LI will pick it up better.”
“what about the wind?”
“supposed to go northwest.”
“how about breezy point?”
“it’s a very south swell, don’t you think it’s too sheltered?”
“but it will take a northwest wind nicely, and it’s a really good long board wave.”
barney knew just what affect this would have on mr.ryan, who, although he had only recently turned 31, was already affecting the attitude and posture of a surfer twice his age.
5:00PM barney, mr.ryan and the wife (who had been badgered into agreeing to go surfing with promises of passion later that evening,) contemplate the 8 foot high, barbed wire fence blocking there passage to the beach.
“fuckers, they filled in the gap under the gate with rocks. you used to be able to crawl underneath,” barney began to push the rocks out the way.
mr.ryan began to climb the fence. “think it will take long to move these rocks,” barney asked the wife as he pushed at them in his sandled feet.
“longer than you think,” answered mr.ryan from the other side of the fence.
barney climbed the fence, catching, but not quite tearing his jacket on the barb wire. naturally the wife found a way though that didn’t expose her to the barbed wire at all.
5:10PM barney, mr. ryan and the wife stare out at the water, sand stinging the backs of their necks.
“well at least the wind’s off shore.”
“there’s no waves!”
a 18 inch line walled up, feathered nicely in the 20knot west northwesterly wind, and dumped on the beach. mr.ryan kicked the sand, the wife looked relieved. “we should have gone to jersey.”
“we should have stayed home.”
“maybe lido is picking it up better.”
not wanting to face the barbed wire fence again, our trio opted to take the four wheel road back to their car. this only took them a mile out of their way.
6:00PM barney, mr.ryan, and the wife stand on the boardwalk at lincoln street looking at what would be a nice waist high swell if it weren’t for the 20 knot side shore.
“what do you think?”
“guess we have to go in.”
“you two might, i don’t.” barney and mr.ryan exchanged glances, pondering the wife’s flash of insight. their brains worked hard trying to incorporate this new idea.
“not go in the water because the waves suck and are unridable?” thought barney. the thought made his brain hurt, but as soon as he started to pull on his wetsuit, the pain subsided.
mr.ryan held on to the idea, and the pain, a little longer. Finally, as he started to stroke into the line up, the ache melted away. he was on his surfboard, happy.
6:30PM the bliss did not last long. the waves were even worse and less ridable than they looked. the wife watched for a while, but the combination of barney and mr.ryan’s pathetic attempts to surf, and the cold cross shore blowing stinging sand down the beach drove her back to the car.
8:00PM mr.ryan return to the car, barney following somewhere behind.
“did it get any better?”
“no, worse. you saw the best of it.”
“i did? oh … sorry.”
barney staggered up to the car. “why did we do this?” mr.ryan said as he struggled with his zipper.
“at least we got water time,” offered barney lamely.
“that’s not enough, not nearly,” said mr.ryan, “i’m hungry, let’s go get some dinner.”
“i know this place near my apartment, plan eat thai. it’s a thai place.”
“plan eat thai?” mr. ryan questioned.
“yeah, it used to be called planet thai, but bruce willis sued them.”
“you’re kidding, right?” mr.ryan continued to struggle with his wetsuit.
“no, bruce and arnold sued them, so they changed the name.”
mr.ryan lost his balance and fell. he sat, thinking about this confluence of stupidity. “plan eat thai, bruce and arnold suing, barney and mr.ryan surfing. “do they serve beer?”
“no, no license. it’s byo”
“well let’s make sure we pick some up.”
