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Short Stories

The old Inlet

September 5. The first day of real swell from Hurricane Leslie. I met up with Cash early in the morning. We checked a few spots in Buxton. It looked small and disappointing. The swell was getting blocked by the shoals. After getting some breakfast, we headed up north to Avon see if it was any better. There was a couple fun looking waves coming in but it seemed that the swell was still getting blocked. However, the lines had become much longer.  We got reports from dudes in Rodanthe that the waves were a couple feet bigger up there. The wind was light southwest at the time and was forecast to come up a little. Rodanthe seemed the call. We decided to ride together in Cash’s car. We checked a few spots and ended up surfing a little north of the Rodanthe pier. It was fun but not what I was looking for. There wasn’t many barrels. The best waves were reforms in between the outside caps and the middle bar. There was large and well formed walls and nice left wedges.  Also some minor tubes. We surfed for about an hour and a half. The period was huge for the East Coast. Mostly 13 and 14 seconds. There may have been some 16 second swell on the bigger sets. We floundered around Rodanthe for a while eating lunch and discussing a possible second session.

Brett Barley called around 11. He had been out at the first jetty surfing most of the morning. He sounded worked up. He said dudes had called about a wave breaking out on the bar of the Oregon Inlet. They claimed it was barreling good and looked like a truly legitimate wave. Jason Andre and a few of his friends were supposedly going to paddle out. I drove back to Avon to get my car, then Buxton to get my surf boards, then back up through Rodanthe and on to Oregon inlet. My mind was going a million miles an hour. I could not calm down.

I began thinking of a time earlier in the year when I was heading out the Oregon Inlet for long lining trip. There water was still cold on the inside, probably around 55 degrees. We were going out fishing for swordfish and tuna. We waited just inside the bar and tried to time the sets for around half an hour before we made it out. The inlet was very dicey that day. A smaller boat had tried to make it out the day before and had been swamped. Two Members survived but one did not. I was scared that day, but when I saw the waves and how good they looked I started feeling better. I was on a big boat with a good captain. The Sea Bound with Jeff Oden. Jeff is a Hatteras local. He has been commercial fishing and surfing here his whole life. He captains his 48 foot Wesmac. It was only a south wind swell with a short period but there was some 7 to 8 foot faces that were barreling hard. Some were breaking all at once and some mushed through. However, The ones that broke right were good.

I thought of the hurricane Bill swell. Will had come down from New York and we were surfing and towing an outer bar. We had to go out the Oregon Inlet that day and it was spooky. There was some patchy fog and strong currents. We took the inside way and stayed close to the shore. I was driving one of Will’s skis with two other people on the back. Three people on one ski was a bad idea. It was worbly through some waters and it was tough to stay upright. I can remember feeling very relieved when we got away from the inlet. It was a good day. When we got back to the dock we ran into another tow team that said they had stayed right there at the inlet. I said to the two dudes, “What do you mean, why did you surf next to it? Weren’t you scared of the fog and the tide?” They said that yes they were scared of the fog and the tide and that they had, in fact, attempted to tow in right in front of the inlet. I was in disbelief at first but when one of the surfers admitted that he didn’t let go of the rope I could see the fear in his face and I knew he was being honest. They claimed that the wave had some huge left barrels. I was very doubtful of this at the time. I thought those outer shoals would be Mushy. But, now that I have seen the wave break a few times, I can imagine it was very impressive that day. There was a few 20 foot plus face waves and the ocean was decently organized.

During that drive north I began to enter a sort of fight or flight mode. I became lost in the moment. When I got to the inlet I was beyond nervous. I even forgot to put on sunscreen. I walked over the dune and was in amazement. You could see the left breaking from way out the back. It was a strain on the eyes to see waves on top of the bar. I was hoping that people would be out there already, but as far as I could tell it was empty. I called Cash and told him that it looked good and that I was gonna paddle out. He said that he was on his way and that Brett was coming with his jet ski. I thought I had seen a jet ski far out just inside of the bar but it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I realized I was seeing some random sideways moving wave. As I walked to the water I turned back a round a few times. My mind was split. Was I taking things to far? Was I gonna get into this inlet never to be seen again? Taken out by the current. Crum vanishes leaving behind his wife to be. However, the fear slowly materialized into excitement. The waves I saw were to good. I had to try it. I believed I could make it. After all it wasn’t huge surf and the tide should be switching and heading back in by dark. The sound tide is more driven by wind. Coming and going with the change in pressure. But, the ocean tide is mostly on its regular six hour schedule. The inlets eb and flow is far from predictable.

I jumped in on the inside of the inlet hoping the tide would help carry me out to the waves. At the time the ground swell made it difficult to see currents and shallow sections, plus it was such a big area that I was considering paddling through. It took me over twenty minutes just to get past the outer bar. That time was scary for me. I was alone and paddling through some waters that were constantly changing. Waves would gather here and current gather there. It was difficult to make much sense of any of it, besides the fact that the waves stopped breaking once you got past the bar. Once past the waves I began to calm down. I quit thinking about the wildlife factor and the odd currents and began being mesmerized by the wave. I kept paddling further and further up the point. The further I paddled the heavier and more shapely the wave got.

The good waves I saw from long lining that previous spring were up at the top of the bar, near the boat channel. I knew I didn’t want to paddle that far but I wanted to at least see that part of the wave. By the time I got around the corner enough to see the top I figured I was about in the right spot to catch a set wave. The waves at the top were doubtlessly the heaviest, but it seemed they were mostly closing out. The corner I was on was lined up. Of course there is nothing to line up on out there. You got the bridge to the inside nearly a half mile away from you and the buoys out back marking the channel. Both are so far away they hardly seemed worth even looking at. There was no real way to gage how far out you were or how far up the bar. The only time you could gather any idea of what was going on was when the sets hit. Fortunately there wasn’t many cleanups. It seemed to me that it was very deep out the back of the bar and no matter the size of the waves they were gonna hit right on the bar. This was good and bad because it made the waves hollow but it also made it hard to make the drop. The moderate south west wind didn’t make dropping in any easier either putting a very mild surface chop coming up and against you coming down the face of the wave.

Once I decided to catch a wave I became scared again. I started thinking about my leash snapping or hurting myself and not being able to make it in. Selectiveness seemed vital to a successful session, as hard as it was to keep in my mind. I became patient. A few fun waves rolled through, some with me on them. About thirty minutes into surfing a jet ski showed up. I was ecstatic to see those guys. They were stoked. The driver dropped another surfer off and watched us surf for a while. He said he wanted to go in and tell other surfers to come out. I told him, “The more the merrier.” A set was coming and it seemed that we had drifted too deep. Maybe the set had just swung wide of where we were. The other surfer picked off a smaller lined up wave just before the set hit. The driver asked me if I wanted to step off into one. I reluctantly said yes. At the time he was the only jet ski out there and if he flipped without a surf board he would be paddling in together with me on my board. Still, I was so excited I couldn’t resist. I didn’t want to miss that set. We raced down the bar and faded into a proper set wave. Upon first jumping I wasn’t sure if I was even gonna be on the wave. The jet ski had to pull out the back early in an attempt to stay safe. Luckily the wave stood up early enough to let me in. At first I was pulling strait down the wave hoping to stall out and get barreled, but before I could get even a third of the way down the face I realized it was going to wall out a long ways. I set my line as high and as fast as I figured I could hold it. I skipped through two long barreling sections. It was the sort of line that you could only have taken from a ski. For the paddle surfer inside of me I must say that you could have at least made some of that barrel paddling, but there is just no way you could have gotten that deep and still made it. However, That was only one wave. I saw at least ten waves that were comparable and some were definitely paddle able.

I kicked out of that wave and shouted, throwing my arms in the air. I was seriously freaking out. It wasn’t the best wave I had ever caught but it was a sick ride. I am fortunate to be able to have caught that wave. I was stoked. Then the driver left. Leaving me and the other surfer out there alone. We attempted to set up on the peak, but I couldn’t sit and wait. I kept seeing the wave breaking up at the top of the point and I had to try to paddle up there. Some of the waves closed out but some of them were big heavy makable barrels. When I got there I realized just how heavy it was. I paddled for a few but they either broke to hard for me or they were breaking to fast. I gave up on it and decided to paddle back down to the more makable part of the wave. Although I never got to make one of those waves, they were a joy to see in person. Fisher was the next surfer out. He was shouting everything that came to his mind. He was just as excited as I was.

Fisher was probably around 3 or 4 hundred yards down the bar from me when the next big set came. We were both waiting for a good wave and trying to calm down enough to be able to catch it. I saw that set coming way outside before it hit. When it started forming out there I could also see a big field of bait heading down the outside of the bar. It was slowly heading down and out around past me. I wanted to paddle straight out so I wouldn’t get cleaned up by the set, but instead I paddled down the bar and then out to try to get away from the bait. I knew what was under and around that bait. Whatever bait it may have been. I believe it to have been fatback, but it may have been harryback, or bluefish, possibly even mullet. Whatever it was it had chased me right to the top of the peak and right were I wanted to be for the next good set wave. I would have never been in position for that wave had the bait not had herded me towards the peak. I know it sounds silly but its the truth. Unfortunately when the wave came the bait had snuck right inside of me. Meaning that in order for me to catch the wave I had to paddle right through the fish. I could see the tails of the fish and the boils they were making right around my arms as I was paddling. I don’t know if I was more scared of the wave or the bait and the big animals chasing it. Regardless I caught the wave and fortunately I didn’t have any fish stuck through my eye sockets. I was close to hesitation for a split second. If I were to have attempted to pull back I still would have been stuck in the bait ball and probably would have gone over the falls. The wave was good. It was hollow. I took a mid to high line. The lip through far over. When I kicked out I was a little ways past Fisher. It was only half as long as the step off wave but it was easily as round. One of the more amazing parts of this wave is that it holds its shape. Waves were nearly as round coming out of them as they were coming in. They were long and snaky. They were heavy and perfect. They were empty and scary. It was a great session. Not huge waves but near perfect ones. Not every wave was good but the sets broke the best. For a near perfectly formed wave to come in at 14 or possibly 16 seconds here on the outer banks is extremely rare. These types of waves generally cap or even fully break on an outer bar before anyone thinks of riding them, and unless its huge these outer bars aren’t much for surfing. They break the waves up and play with there direction and focus of power. With a shorter period swell this can be good making the waves become heavier and more bowly. However, with a long period swell, waves can become double up and closed out. Not all the time, of course. The ocean is endless possibilities.

After that set the ocean seemed to slowed up a bit. It became smaller with less big sets. Still it was going off. More surfers and more skis came out which made me happy. Brett brought Daniel out. He also tried to bring Cash but nearly flipped with the weight of three people. Cash had to paddle almost the whole way out. Brett dropped Daniel in the lineup. He had a life jacket on and a camera but no swim fins. He drifted up the bar quickly before he got to the top. A jet ski had to pick him up. He looked almost white. I was scared for him. He was putting himself in an incredibly dangerous spot trying to get a photo. I was praying a set wouldn’t come in wile he was out there like that. Fortunately for Daniel, Brett had made it back from getting a few more surfers and Daniel was able to get on the jet ski with Brett. I do not remember exactly how many surfers were out and who all they were. I didn’t know all of them. I think there was about 11 surfers that tried to surf out there. You got the two dudes on the ski. You got Brett, Daniel, and Fisher. You got Noah, Raven, Mike, Oliver, Philip, Damien, unknown older surfer, and finally Cash. Cash is the only other surfer that paddled out to the wave. He did at least get a ride to the outer bar, but he paddled the rest of the way from there. Also, He paddled all the way back in with me. I was glad to have someone to talk to on the way in. It took over an hour to paddle in against the lateral current. We should have just gotten a ride in with the skis but I was hard headed. The last wave I caught took me almost all the way in from the outer bar. The long ride was sloppy but lasted nearly a minute. I was so tired that it was a struggle to surf it.

It was so shallow on that bar that waves washed water off the back of it hard enough so that it would have been nearly impossible to make it back out. You could not paddle up onto the bar even with the tide going out. You would have had to paddle in and around at least the main part of the bar, which lasts a very long way. Everything about the wave is long. You could have maybe paddled up the inside and out the channel were the boats go, but that would have been extremely sketchy and possibly even illegal. Mike, one of the jet ski drivers, had to find a lost surfer who was paddling towards the beach on the back of the bar. Fisher and I had lost sight of him for nearly 20  while all the jet skis were gone. He was stuck. He couldn’t go out or in. He called it that area, “The Vortex,” were he feared he would be stuck indefinitely. He might have been paddling like that until the tide came back in, which would have been after dark. He got washed back behind the bar later in the session and had to be saved by the ski again. The older surfer also had to be saved numerous times
It was Gnarly out there with all the distance and current. I think that to be surfing out there you at least need two skis to do it somewhat safely. Three skis and a boat would be preferable. Even then it is extremely dangerous. I know people will read this and think we were crazy. We were. Why would anyone do this just to get some waves? For me it was an important thing that I needed to do. I had seen the wave and dreamed of it and when it broke it lured me to it. It is somewhat of a siren I guess. Beautiful and luring but deadly and without conscience. All of my usual cares and worries were buried deep in the back of my mind for a short while. The crap I was going through in my life. Bills, Tickets, Signs, Relationships, Meetings, Wages, Gas, Gluttony and Eternity.

I was not the only surfer to get good waves out there. I saw cash get a few nice long waves. Damien made a good left barrel and I believe Daniel got a photo of it. Fisher claims he caught the best right he has ever caught on the East Coast. I thought he sounded crazy because all I saw were long lined up lefts, but I reckon he was at the top of the point when he caught it. The bar faces about due east up at there. I didn’t see that wave, but I do remember that the swell was still maxing at the time. Brett was on the ski the whole time I was out. Later that evening he told me he was able to trade off ski safety duty with another surfer long enough to get a few waves. He said he got a five second barrel. He also said that before he caught it he got caught inside and lit up by two different sets. It was good then because when I finally made it in and was standing on the dune I noticed that the wind had lightened up and turned more offshore. It looked clean and organized. I stared at it wishing I was still out there, but at the same time thanking the good lord that I had made it in safely. There was a beautiful sunset.

 

The Drive South

AT 3:00 pm Friday my boss called off work due to rain. We were working on putting a new addition on the side of a house. A nice remodel job I hated to leave, especially because we were getting ready to build the roof. I had been so nervous that day, or rather that week. Everybody at work was talking about my upcoming trip. I was excited but a little tired of thinking about it. I had been checking forecast models, wind charts, and satellite images every day for the past two weeks. At least when I woke up and when I went to bed. This was going to be my fifth trip to Mex and my second time driving. But, the first time i had my brother with me and this time I was driving solo.

Before I could go home to pack I had to stop by my girlfriend’s house and say goodbye. She was excited, but upset I was leaving her for two weeks. She had argued against the trip at its first conception due to the fact that we were to be married within the next couple of months. She eventually came around when she realized how important it was to me that I go. Plus, I knew she didn’t want our honeymoon turning into a surf trip, but that’s a whole other story. I was attempting to tell her it could be three weeks but she wasn’t hearing it. She kept saying, “no, two weeks.” She got teary eyed towards the end, which in turn got me emotional, but I played it off and told her to cheer up and I would be home before she knew it. When I got home I started packing and about two hours and I had the car ready to go. I fit all seven boards inside the car, which was cool because I figured I’d get better gas milage. Plus I looked a little less like a gringo. The past week I had spent a lot of time working on my car trying to fix all the little problems it had and I felt pretty confident it would make it there.

I own a 1990 Mercedes Diesel 300D. Me and my dad work on it sometimes at home. We fixed fuel leaks, changed the glow plugs, kept up with the oil, replaced the serpentine belt and the idler pulley, among other things. The week before I left I got the windows working, the cd player working, Changed fuel lines, and I took it to a mechanic to get the A/C working good. I honestly spent good deal of time toying with the car before I left. I love my car but I knew I was about to spend so much time in it and I wanted it to be as bearable as possible. No one  wants to break down driving through the desert in the middle of nowhere.

I got on the road 5:oo ish. The drive was heavy. I didn’t make it to the beach till early Monday. Three long nights and two longer days later. I slept in my car about two hours the first night at a rest stop. I think I stopped from 12 to 3. or maybe 2:30. It was hard to sleep because the headlights from other cars pulling in kept waking me up. I tried putting my t-shirt over my eyes but when I fell asleep it would fall off. The excitement of surfing kept me up the rest of the night. Along with the music it wasn’t so bad. My girlfriend insisted on calling me every few hours, which at first irritated me because I knew she wasn’t getting a good night’s rest, but really it ended up making the night a lot more bearable. I noticed that talking to someone every few hours made my brain much more active and it helped keep me in a good mood. I did, however, enjoy the alone time.

The second night I was over the driving by dark. I think it was around 8:30 when I got off the road in Katy, Texas. That afternoon was miserable at times because I was getting so sleepy. It was interesting too though because of the type of trance you get into while driving like that. I started thinking about some pretty wild things. My minds conversation went all over the place. From family and friends to surfing and previous surf trips. Then sometimes nothing but frustration and impatience. When will I let myself stop? I didn’t want to stop because I wanted to get there and surf on Monday. While watching the charts I had seen this one little low pressure form, only for a day, but it was very organized and I thought it would send some good surf. It did.

I wasn’t happy about stopping in Katy, Texas and staying at a hotel. I wanted to keep driving and get there, but I knew that would have been a terrible idea. At that time I wished I had a driving companion to share the driving time with. I figured we would have kept going. After a while your eyeballs just start getting to tired. At least mine do. I remember pissing off another driver because I turned through 3 lanes to pull into a hotel. I typically would never had made this type of maneuver but I was tired and over it and I decided that I was pulling into that hotel. I felt dumb after I did it and I knew I really needed some sleep. I got a decent dinner a block away and drank a beer, which put me out. I had a hard time walking back to the hotel I was so tired. I slept a good 5 hours and woke up feeling great. The excitement of the trip had rekindled in me and I got back on the road.

Driving across the boarder was a culture shock. No more English. I was nervous due to the fact that it was a border town and all. One of my coworkers told me a story right before I left of a guy getting his head chopped off near the border because he had crossed the cartel or something. The beheading was on some site on the internet. He told the story so well it kind of impacted me a little… which obviously was his intention. Still, I wasn’t too worried cause all I had with me was a couple surfboards. Cartel don’t surf. Once into Laredo I figured it wasn’t so bad. Everyone I saw seemed to be in an okay mood and the people I attempted to communicate with seemed somewhat friendly. It took me forever to find a bank. I had to get some money out for gas because the gas stations refused to take my card. When I tried to leave the city and get on the toll road some official person told me I had to turn around and drive back to some official building to get a car permit. I was irritated to say the least but when I asked him if I could just keep going he laughed and said “no, you could get into big trouble.” So I went back to the border, a 30 minute drive and waited in the long line. When I got to the front and talked to the lady she told me I had to go wait in all these other lines to get all my paper work done. On account of the language barrier and my lack of patience, this proved quite difficult and time consuming. I eventually got out of there but by then it was already 2 in the afternoon. That was pretty disheartening to me, because in all the driving time I was constantly calculating how far I would get and when I would get there. However, it did feel good to be perfectly legal and getting the permit later proved to be a necessity. When I finally got on the toll road the officials at the entrance had taken the rest of the day off. I could have probably just waited 30 minutes and driven on through.

It was hot outside, hovering in the upper 90’s. My car ran warm a few times for the first time on the trip going through some of the mountains. I had to turn the A/C off and shift down a couple times to get the engine to cool down. The countryside was gorgeous. The new toll roads were nice. They had some scenic views. It was nice to skip around Monterey and Saltillo. I can remember getting lost in both cities the last time I drove down, especially Saltillo. Monterey wasn’t such a bad city to get lost in. I thought it was really nice. It had some great architecture and it seemed to me that the city had been planned out well. Saltillo on the other hand had been a nightmare. The signs to stay on the main road proved impossible to understand. Plus I got pulled by some cop that tried to make me give him money. It was the second time that day I had been pulled for the same reason and I just argued with the guy until he let us go. Unfortunately that took around 45 minutes and it was in the middle of the night. I remember pulling away and looking at my brother. He looked a little white. This trip I just skipped by it up in the mountains. I was stoked on that.

After those two cities the road becomes straight. 54 is a great highway to travel on. You can see the road in front of you for a few miles up and down some huge hills. I blared music to keep awake and tried all kinds of weird positions to keep from being too uncomfortable. My butt was starting to get soar from sitting on it so much. Standing crouched on the seat helped. I am sure I looked silly. The trance of driving became heavy. I drove right through the edge of a big thunderstorm. I knew it was fruitless to drive faster but I did anyway in hopes that I could evade rain and nasty driving conditions. I felt bad for these three women in the back of a pickup truck that got totally soaked during a heavy period of rain. The temperature had dropped to 58 and I am sure they were freezing. They were all huddled up under a blanket.

It started to get dark again when I was in between Zecatecas and the mountains before Guadalajara. I started losing pickup out of the engine. I had had a good suspicion of what the problem was but I still became very uneasy. When I stopped for fuel I changed the fuel filter and that fixed the problem. The gas station attendant that filled up my car decided he needed to help me change the filter, which ended in disaster. He was obviously not a mechanic and could not figure out how to thread the bolt to hold the filter on. He showed me his oily hands and I presumed he was trying to say, “I couldn’t do it because my hands are soaked in fuel.” When he walked away to clean them I finished the job. I started looking at the old fuel filter and inspecting the crap coming out of it when my friend decided to close my tool set for me. He didn’t know to make sure the pad was set correctly and he dumped all my sockets, around 100, onto the pavement. He was then very nervous and frustrated. I tried to explain to him, fruitlessly, that I had done the same thing before. He kept trying to help me put the set back together but this was only frustrating for me because the sockets must be in generally the right area for the kit to close. It was pretty funny but I felt bad for the guy. I think he could read from my face that I was still in good spirits and was okay with the whole predicament. However, I could tell he was very embarrassed and he probably just really wanted me to leave.

I got a bag of chips and some yogurt for dinner at an Oxxo. Oxxo is like a Mexican version of 7-11. Those Mountains are the most demanding part of the drive. The roads are paved, which makes them easier then some mountains I’ve driven in. There was some out of the way type dirt roads I thought of from a surf trip to Costa Rica. But still I think those mountains this side of Guadalajara are harder to drive on then any mountains I’ve driven on in the States. The road gets so steep and windy. The tough section of mountainous road lasts roughly 4 hours. I was getting absurdly tired at this point. I stopped around 12 for a two hour nap at an Oxxo. I was nervous though because there were some guys hanging out outside of the place talking loudly. They were across the parking lot from me and it was the middle of the night, I was afraid but I was so tired I fell right asleep. When I woke up I was startled to see them still standing there chatting away at 2 something in the morning. Next came the grind, when I got back into the mountains the fog started getting thick. That’s just what you want when you could possibly fly off the side of a mountain because you didn’t slow down enough before an oncoming turn. Plus I was so tired. I was half hallucinating with the fog and sleepiness mixing together forming a rather strong intoxication. I started driving really slow in fear. I was scared I was gonna fall asleep and fall to my doom. Stupid gringo doesn’t know when to stop.

Around 3:30 I got pulled over by a military check point. I was a little scared because there were all these guys standing around with guns. They were at first frustrated with me because I spoke no Spanish. After a few minutes they found a soldier that spoke some very broken English. I was excited and began speaking pretty loud. I communicated the fact that I am a carpenter and that I use to be a fisherman. I fished for swordfish and tuna. I was on a surf trip. They said I was crazy for traveling like this by myself through Mexico. They asked me if any of my friends at home thought I was crazy too. I replied, “yes they did.” A drew a crowd of about fifteen soldiers and there captain seemed to like me. He teased me saying I was macho. We attempted to communicate for about half an hour, they pretended to look through my stuff for a bit but I think they were just interested in what I had brought. I feel like they were thinking, “what is all this crap?” Headphones, shaving clippers, laptop, couple pairs of shoes, leashes, fins, and a trackpad. This ordeal did serve to wake me up a bit, but the fog just kept getting thicker and I kept getting more tired. That last section of mountains was the hardest part of my trip. It was down right miserable. The tiredness and fog and curvy frikken mountain roads. It was seriously tough duty. When I pulled into the fine old city of Guadalajara and the fog finally cleared I thanked the good lord I was still breathing. He had delivered me.

I listened to a lot of music during the drive. It helped me stay awake and motivated me through tough and sleepy times. I listened to Modest Mouse building something out of nothing at least 10 times.

The rest of the drive was pretty easy. I was wide awake because I was getting close to the beach and I knew I would make it there just at day break. I did. It was good.

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