wb surf

my life in wrightsville beach, starting today

good morning, mr. dora
wbsurf


From All for a Few Perfect Waves, pp. 110 - 111:

Q:  You've been accused of being ruthless on waves.
A:   It's a lie.  I'm vicious.

Miki was so good he could kick out on somebody and miss their head by inches.  But most of the time he'd get people in the ankles or the shins . . .

I saw Miki pull guys off their boards by the hair and the shoulders, or lift the board from underneath and throw someone over the top of the wave.  He didn't need to run a kid over -- but he would.

Tags:

they don't even like . . .
wbsurf
yoga.
Tags: ,

in flight to nyc
wbsurf
I got a freebie to use gogo, Delta's new in-flight web service, so I'm using it. 

First post from 38,000 feet:  a celebrity sighting.  Food Network's wacky, bike-riding, mad (food) scientist Alton Brown: alone, much thinner than on TV, leaning against the wall, head tipped down under a narrow-brimmed hat, in a dark suit, with a tan Burberry topcoat over his arm, brown shoes (it was all very Sinatra . . . except for the shoes: go with black). 



I said hello and that I liked his show (singular . . .  I should have said shows).  He looked me in the eye (we're about the same height) and said a subdued, clipped, non-wacky "Thank you."  I said something about it being a kick to see all the Atlanta locations in the show.  I asked him if he knew Alisa (Barry, of Bella Cucina).  He said, "No, I don't get out much."  I didn't ask him about his bikes or his on-the-road adventures, dammit.  Reasonably, he didn't seem to be in the mood to talk to strangers, so I mumbled some parting words and went back to my seat.

celeb sighting, cont'd
wbsurf
AB was waiting at baggage claim. (Re: my description of him in the prior post: he's a very compact package -- almost falling in on himself, contrary to his . . . expansive . . . TV persona -- and seems amazingly slender from what I remember from TV.)  I had an accident of birth CD in my backpack (why?: who knows!).  I accosted him again, game him the CD, saying, "You might get a kick out of it."  He said, "Oh, thanks . . . but I don't have anything to give you."

Clearly, a southern gentleman:

.

I said thats OK, you've done the TV shows and I loved the "road" shows . . . I don't ride but I have friends who do and we all thought it was cool and he said thanks again and I asked him if there were any more road shows in the works and he said no and I said I thought they were great and he said he did too but you know the network didn't and I said bummer and then I got a little nervous because I didn't want to overstay my welcome and be a stalker and I said well I don't want to bug you see you later and he said ok and that was it.

I assume he's in NYC for this.


if a picture is worth 1,000 words . . .
wbsurf

well, I've got 16,000+ of 'em (this is the blog version of home movies . . . yikes!).  Montauk, end-of-Sept., 2009:


Eating at the spiffiest place in East Hampton because almost everyplace else is closed during the offseason.  Not that I'm complaining; the food was great.


First morning east of the Hamptons, looking east from the White Sands Motel, stiff west wind.


Pamella's fave nursury in East Hampton.  A touch of Japan . . . $22,000.


Pamella getting a kiss from her (concrete) warthog.


Driftwood horse.


White pine almondeye.


Where we made two wardrobe purchases for Pamella, surf bunny.


Looking due east at the tip of Long Island.  There were some nice peaks, but they broke directly into the rocks.  I guess it could work on a bigger swell.


Pamella at the eastern end of the world.


I did actually get to surf Ditch Plains (a village east of Montauk), but, of course, the battery in the camera was dead, so, no pics.  The water was chilly, the wind was blowing, the sun was going in and out of the clouds, and I only had a thin wetsuit top, making for a brisk, abbreviated session.  The above is a reenactment of a hang ten that never happened.





Jazz great Percy Heath; Montauk man?  The plaque, at the lighthouse, reads:  Percy Heath, "The Fiddler," April 30 1923 ~ April 28, 2005, Tuskegee Airman, jazzman, fisherman, artist and friend.  Percy made the music of this place sing on his fishing rod and his fiddle.  "I've been around the world nine times and I don't want to be anyplace else but right here in Montauk."


Miz Pamella's son, David, came out (from the city) for the day.  Lunch @ Lenny's. 


Land shark!


Pamella fave Peter Beard has property on one of those headlands.


WTF!?  Near Montauk Point: A World War Two vintage radar station; a typical upscale Montauk beach house; a gigantic, yellow, fuzzy mouse with something on his head and the rusting bones and concrete of a house in the making.

?

Log in

No account? Create an account