Dave H
Well-Known Member
October was always my favorite month at Jordan River.
First good swells would arrive.
The kelp would be cleaned out a bit.
Water was as warm as it gets after a summer in the reservoirs above the fog.
Still some sunny warm windless afternoons.
Muddy hikes down to Sombrio when the point was too small.
Cosmic sunsets and the Harvest full moon leading to moonlit go outs alone.
October had it all.
In October of 1976 I actually cried while sitting on the beach in front of the old clubhouse.
It was dark and I'd been surfing for four or five hours, the last two by myself.
The freaks who'd taken over the surfers cabin were all inside, where it was warm, and I didn't have sauna privileges yet, or the key to it, so I sat on a log with my board across my legs, absorbing it all, every sense keen.
And I shivered a bit in the darkness.
I can still remember the slight chill of the breeze against my wet face after my last ride that evening and the fact I completely personified the term “noodle-armed.”
It had been head-high with bigger sets, glassy, medium tide and consistent.
I'd survived my first year there, met most of the other surfers of the day, learned a whole lot about surfing and had started a good paying job at Port Renfrew, after a starving but fun-filled year, part of which was as a professional surf instructor at Cox Bay, near Tofino.
I'm an emotional guy and sitting there in the dark on the beach, watching the last dim vestiges of the sunset off to the west and a huge orange moon rising in the east I was overcome, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes and the next thing I knew I was crying.
I guess that's when I knew I was in love with my life and that surfing would always be special for me.
In October at Jordan River.
47 years ago.
Take care.
First good swells would arrive.
The kelp would be cleaned out a bit.
Water was as warm as it gets after a summer in the reservoirs above the fog.
Still some sunny warm windless afternoons.
Muddy hikes down to Sombrio when the point was too small.
Cosmic sunsets and the Harvest full moon leading to moonlit go outs alone.
October had it all.
In October of 1976 I actually cried while sitting on the beach in front of the old clubhouse.
It was dark and I'd been surfing for four or five hours, the last two by myself.
The freaks who'd taken over the surfers cabin were all inside, where it was warm, and I didn't have sauna privileges yet, or the key to it, so I sat on a log with my board across my legs, absorbing it all, every sense keen.
And I shivered a bit in the darkness.
I can still remember the slight chill of the breeze against my wet face after my last ride that evening and the fact I completely personified the term “noodle-armed.”
It had been head-high with bigger sets, glassy, medium tide and consistent.
I'd survived my first year there, met most of the other surfers of the day, learned a whole lot about surfing and had started a good paying job at Port Renfrew, after a starving but fun-filled year, part of which was as a professional surf instructor at Cox Bay, near Tofino.
I'm an emotional guy and sitting there in the dark on the beach, watching the last dim vestiges of the sunset off to the west and a huge orange moon rising in the east I was overcome, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes and the next thing I knew I was crying.
I guess that's when I knew I was in love with my life and that surfing would always be special for me.
In October at Jordan River.
47 years ago.
Take care.
