Team Guido Gets it Good Pt.1
Foon
production to make up for the time I would lose. Warning signals
from my coworkers told me this was a very bad time to take time
off. I knew this....in spades. I would pay the price dearly when
I returned. Screw it, I thought. How often do I get a chance to
meet people from the ng, and score some good swell? Damn the
organizational torpedoes, full steam ahead. September on the
OB!!!! Ya gotta love IT!!
Home at ten from work, I spent the next 3 hours packing and
organizing things around the house (finished the honeydo too).
MrsFoon was a guest at an important banquet downtown for World
Standards Day and would not be home that night. I felt guilty at
the thought I found this good news. She would have been a
distraction and wanted one of those "Seeya Sailor Sendoffs." I
was too revved up to concentrate and could not get to sleep.
My alarm went off at the ungodly hour of 5:00 am. As if in a
dream (literally), I sleep walked through my pretrip prep, and
managed to shower, make coffee and load the truck within 30
minutes. I had to beat the Washington rush hour traffic or risk
getting to the OB very late for the rendezvous with destiny, or
at least Team Guido. Coffee in hand, 2 boxes of Krispy Kremes in
the supply box, I left with great anticipation in my heart.
My drive South and on to Newport News went a lot quicker than I
thought. Three hours to Chesapeake, 5 1/2 to Nags Head, 6 and
change to Cape Hatteras. That's smokin, by my standards. The
damage done by hurricanes Dennis and Floyd was brutally obvious
most of the way and the OB, usually a very picturesque place in
this best of all seasons, was kind of an ugly gray/brown. Sand
everywhere, all shrubs, trees and plant life looking burned out
by having salt filled air blown against it in hurricane force
winds.
But on this brilliantly sunny, clear day, offshore breezes
blowing away the last remnants of a long rainy spell, it was easy
to see the large swells left over from Gerty, marching Southward
as I crossed the Herbert C Bonner Causeway/Bridge at Oregon
Inlet. Uh oh, there's still some juice in the old girl, I
thought. I began calculating how many motrin I was going to have
to take this weekend.
The big chunk of Rt.12 (1/4 mile) that was lost during Dennis,
has been replaced by a temporary road that was built in 5 days
after the storm. The unforgiving question remains, what happens
the next time? It's still within striking distance of the ocean,
as are several million dollars of new "Taj Mahal" type beach
houses (a local term used to describe the very expensive and over
the top luxurious type beach homes that have corrupted the
Northern part of the OB, and are now starting to find their way
South).
It always scares me when I see just how little distance there is
at this point of the island between the ocean and the sound.
Literally a couple hundred yards of scrub pines and swamp (I mean
tidal wetlands and salt marsh habitat ;^b)
I pulled into the General Mitchell Motel around noonish and noted
it was a pleasant, well kept business of about 50 units on the
beach with a parking lot still half covered in sand from the over
wash from Dennis. But, people were working diligently to clean
and fix up the place which had noticeable wind damage along the
roof soffeting and rain gutters. The 4 foot high hand rails on
the walkway to the beach now only peaked about 4 inches above the
water and wind driven sand that buried it. The palm trees and
other landscaping looked brown and somewhat beat up.
I walked into the office to check in and stopped in my tracks.
Two guests stood with their backs to me talking to the clerk. My
Guidar went into the red zone. GUIDOS!!! Having lived in NY for
21 years, I have a sixth sense when they are around. I pronounced
with absolute certainty to anyone within ear shot, "There goes
the neighborhood!!"
A smiling SurfSargent and M@rk turned to greet me. We then
checked into our plush adjoining suites and immediately took
stock of our Guidopalooza headquarters facilities.
The rooms were newly redecorated, but had a mildewy smell due to
the storms and high humidity lately. This was quickly dispelled
by opening windows and doors to the warm and pleasant offshore
breezes. We note with interest the Sandbar Grille and Gary's
Restaurant directly across the street, which made us all very
happy, and hungry.
We also noted that just out the back of our motel, the waves were
"SMACKIN'!!!!" Gorgeous left and right handers, were peeling
right off our beach, in light green wall and whitewater splendor,
waist to head and a few rogue Oheads, just to spice it up. After
a not too quick lunch (things are pretty slow in the off season)
we all hit the break for a long afternoon session of sweet, but
dredging walls. Just we three, in warm water, warm breezes and
hot waves. Pinch me, I'm dreamin'.
First off I noticed neither M@rk or SurfSarge needed any warmups.
They charged like surfstarved hellmen, and they had driven almost
all night from New Joisey to get there. Sarge had three waves
before I got out. M@rk, was slapping lips and exploring tunnels
with that nonstop wavewackin grin he would have all weekend. I
had trouble with my warmup waves because they were not nearly as
timid as I thought. These bad boys had some thump and I got my
clock cleaned the first few walls until I realized at takeoff you
had to be going down the line full clip to make these. Cutbacks
were not really a necessary move in the zipper fast walls.
Within a hour or so the Virginia Chapter, of Steve M and C.Myron
Ware showed up. Introductions in the water were short, since wave
riding was a premium activity. We could talk later. A few shared
waves made things cozy since they were solo types and everyone
got to see each others chops. My own performance anxiety had me
inching up on my bodyboard in the interest of better trim and
more speed to make these spicy walls. Unfortunately, bad judgment
about this process caused some magnificent pearls in the tube,
making for at least three spectacular somersaults. One of which
ended my session by breaking my leash (not to mention my will to
live, OUCH!) It was a long swim in against the current.
The only really annoying aspect of the session was that fairly
strong current running out from the beach which necessitated
having to paddle constantly just to stay in the takeoff zone. We
all learned quickly not to paddle out much after a wave. The
current took you out no hands. But once you got there, it was
tough staying in the lineup. I figured I paddled five hours worth
in 3 hours just to stay even. In retrospect, my arthritic hips
informed me that driving nonstop 6.5 hours, then paddling nonstop
for 3 hours was not a good thing, and that they would be
contacting me later that night and the next day about the
consequences.
Some tasty and playful waves were had by all, some not so playful
ones too, and some downright nasty suckpits showed up for the
party. Inevitably the tide came in and ruined the session, but
with only 4 hours sleep the night before and this rigorous
session after driving a while, I was pretty much wasted anyway.
Our balcony looked out over the beach so we all grabbed beers and
chairs and proceeded to make the balcony in front of our rooms
the Guidopalooza meeting hall for the next few days. We owned
that stretch of porch and all other guests knew it. This is one
bunch of good guys to hang out with. It's one of the things I do
best, hang out -talk story. In fact, anyplace where I can sit,
give me a chair, a table to rest my beer and a cigar, I start
growing a tap root out my ass thinking, Hey this might be a good
place to spend the rest of my life. Every one of these men was
easy to talk to, interesting to listen too, and some might even
be considered to be not too hard on the eyes for those of the
female persuasion. Such different backgrounds, personalities,
lives, yet all with a common stoke for riding waves. It makes for
a great common denominator and a truly wonderful way to pass a
weekend.
Since I had at least 15 years on most and 20 years on some, I
felt like the elder statesman of the group. Yet the youthful
enthusiasm and stoke of these men even revved me up in my surfing
and desire to ride waves with abandon. But at days end my creaky
joints reminded me I was old enough to be the father of a few.
With great ceremony we invited M@rk to illustrate the Official
Guidopalooza Banner that was donated to me by Fergy last year.
It's a promotional Jack Daniels banner that had a big white space
in the center. Mark did a quite amazing picture and we all signed
it as our induction to Team Guido. As suspected, the ingestion of
beers and other inebriates brought to our attention that M@rk's
artistic skills are not razor sharp after the fact. This was made
powerfully evident when he produced what was supposed to be a
mosquito, that actually looked (swear to God) like a flying
tampon. He excused himself, claiming he never was much good at
drawing "animals" (Note to self: Is a skeeter an animal?)
The ceremony over and pictures taken (we will post one of these
no matter what happened to my camera) the core contingent took
off for a dusk patrol and evening surfcheck/session at the Cape
Hatteras Lighthouse. Since I was totally toasted, Myron and I
repaired to the Foonsuite to get acquainted, talk story, and
drink more shots of whiskey. We had a lot of things in common to
talk about, and I was able to find out about his secret life. But
that's another story.
Later we all ate in the Sandbar, more beers, foosball and more
talk on the balcony. I was near blind with fatigue and was
concerned that Myron and Steve might become victims of the bird
size skeeters that were prevalent in the OB this time of year,
if they camped at the Lighthouse. Both seemed very agreeable to
using the Foonsuite as a campground for the night and the
prospect of having a dawn patrol all together had great appeal. I
crashed before they all sorted out the arrangements but was not
surprised to find them in the room the next morning.
-Foon
Part Two. Breakfast Buffet Foonstyle; almost Dawn Patrol;
Friday's epic morning session; duty calls; Friday's epic
afternoon session; Friday's totally satisfying evening session;
Sunset on the OB.
Lemming®
always have to preface your surf reports/stories
with your sexual conquests/failures?
Foon
LemmingŽ wrote:
>
> Nice story but why is it that you and Fergy
> always have to preface your surf reports/stories
> with your sexual conquests/failures?
I guess it's because we actually have the opportunity to have
them, unlike some we know,and I don't have any pets to write
about instead.
-Foon
Neal Miyake
<snip>
: The unforgiving question remains, what happens
: the next time? It's still within striking distance of the ocean,
: as are several million dollars of new "Taj Mahal" type beach
: houses (a local term used to describe the very expensive and over
: the top luxurious type beach homes that have corrupted the
: Northern part of the OB, and are now starting to find their way
: South).
: It always scares me when I see just how little distance there is
: at this point of the island between the ocean and the sound.
: Literally a couple hundred yards of scrub pines and swamp (I mean
: tidal wetlands and salt marsh habitat ;^b)
<sponge standing on a soapbox>
The Outer Banks is just one big, shifting sandbar. The "engineer" who
designed it meant it to be a fluid, transitory thing. Of course, man sees
it as beachfront property, and builds without regards to long-term
changes. In the end, all the taxpayers pay for the damage, via FEMA.
<stepping off now>
sponge (can't wait for the rest of the story, and more importantly, the
responses from the other guys who were there)
steve marshall
: Our balcony looked out over the beach so we all grabbed beers and
: chairs and proceeded to make the balcony in front of our rooms
: the Guidopalooza meeting hall for the next few days. We owned
: that stretch of porch and all other guests knew it. This is one
: bunch of good guys to hang out with. It's one of the things I do
: best, hang out -talk story.
And *boy* did he talk story. I'm talkin' yada yada yada. It
reminded me of certain family members who call on the phone. You
can set the phone down, take care of a few things around the
house, forget you were on the phone; then remember, go pick
it up, and there, without missing a beat, the voice is still
going and they never realized you had left.
Seriously though, even though i usually have a low tolerance
for lengthy stories, I enjoyed hearing Foon's, and never once
felt like "hanging up."
: Such different backgrounds, personalities,
: lives, yet all with a common stoke for riding waves. It makes for
: a great common denominator and a truly wonderful way to pass a
: weekend.
No lie. Not only the common stoke for riding waves, but also
the common bond of being ASers. For all the talk about how
the internet isn't real life, and some may even call evil,
AS has served to bring people closer in *real life.* When
I met everyone, it was like seeing an old friend. Hell,
I felt more comfortable with, and felt I knew more about,
these guys than I do with some people I see every day.
It was definitely a fun time.
: Since I had at least 15 years on most and 20 years on some, I
: felt like the elder statesman of the group. Yet the youthful
: enthusiasm and stoke of these men even revved me up in my surfing
: and desire to ride waves with abandon. But at days end my creaky
: joints reminded me I was old enough to be the father of a few.
Bah....You didn't need us for the youthful enthusiasm; You
had that on your own, and I never heard your creaky joints.
: As suspected, the ingestion of
: beers and other inebriates brought to our attention that M@rk's
: artistic skills are not razor sharp after the fact. This was made
: powerfully evident when he produced what was supposed to be a
: mosquito, that actually looked (swear to God) like a flying
: tampon.
This may be one of those "you had to be there" things, but
that mosquito incident had me laughing the hardest I did all
weekend. It really was a sorry excuse for a bug (sorry, M@rk. If
it helps, the rest was awesome, and you did do a pretty good
salvage of the mosquito). It was even funnier to watch Mark's
reaction to the almost simultaneous and spontaneous criticism
of the skeeter by everyone. A hard crowd, eh?
: Later we all ate in the Sandbar, more beers, foosball and more
: talk on the balcony. I was near blind with fatigue and was
: concerned that Myron and Steve might become victims of the bird
: size skeeters that were prevalent in the OB this time of year,
: if they camped at the Lighthouse. Both seemed very agreeable to
: using the Foonsuite as a campground for the night and the
: prospect of having a dawn patrol all together had great appeal. I
: crashed before they all sorted out the arrangements but was not
: surprised to find them in the room the next morning.
Well, *now* you'be gone and done it...the truth's out, so I guess
I have some 'splainin' to do. First, Surffohio wasn't far off when
he mentioned me sleeping on the balcony, then moving inside in
the am. I *did* contemplate sleeping on the balcony, but instead
went back across the street to the Sandbar to see if I could
find any more victims for foosball. Having dispatched Myron in
our previous game, I was looking for new blood to get some
sort of vegence to compensate for my relatively poor surf sessions.
The only people playing, however, were those dreaded "spinners."
If anyone is familiar with foosball, you know what I'm talking
about. Spinners are the low-life of foosball. I can almost always
beat them, but it just isn't fun, nor pretty. The spinners didn't
stay long anyway, so there was no more opportunity. I just sat,
nursed a cold one, and listened to my surroundings. It's funny
how much you can pick up just by observing and listening.
The most interesting, and somewhat nausiating, thing I picked up
on that night was the bartender talking about an aspect of the
recent flooding I hadn't thought about; She was mentioning that
all the floodwaters, chuck full of pollution and other nasty
things (she said people had even spotted dead chickens and other
animals floating in the water) were draining where else but into
the sounds, and then eventually out through the inlets. Not
a pretty picture.
Anyway, after my excursion, I went back across the street.
By this time, it *was* early morning, Surff (about 1 am), when
I went back into the room where Foon and Myron had already
crashed. I was going to rough it and do my best to camp....
I spread out my sleeping bag on the hard floor. My camping
desperation involved having to strategically plan where
to sleep so that I would not be stomped on by the two who
had no idea I had come in and was sleeping. My skull had
a close call with Foon's foot as he walked by to check
the surf at dawn. I survived unscathed, however.
In the end, I didn't camp not because I wanted luxuries, but
because the bar right across the street, with foosball no less
(one of my other passions), was just too damn convenient.
I *did* come close to camping Friday night. I even went so far
as to check out the campground, but discovered it had closed
even though it was supposed to be open through Oct. 11. There
was another campground nearby, but the fact I had to leave
early in the morning made me go back to the hotel idea, so I
wouldn't have to waste potential surf-time while breaking down
the camp.
So there ya have it, I gave in. I was kinda glad though,
cuz it really *was* fun to hang around and just chill with
everyone together. Now if I coulduv just gotten everyone
to stay up later! If Johnw follows through on his intent
to come to Hatteras at the end of October, I may be able
to redeem myself by *really* camping in even harsher conditions.
We'll see.
Later,
Steve
--
Signaturely challenged
m@rk
> Foon wrote:
> : Such different backgrounds, personalities,
> : lives, yet all with a common stoke for riding waves. It makes for
> : a great common denominator and a truly wonderful way to pass a
> : weekend.
>
> No lie. Not only the common stoke for riding waves, but also
> the common bond of being ASers. For all the talk about how
> the internet isn't real life, and some may even call evil,
> AS has served to bring people closer in *real life.* When
> I met everyone, it was like seeing an old friend. Hell,
> I felt more comfortable with, and felt I knew more about,
> these guys than I do with some people I see every day.
> It was definitely a fun time.
I felt the same way.
It was almost as if we have hung out many times before.
Very relaxed and comfortable time.
No animosity, no nothing.
> : Since I had at least 15 years on most and 20 years on some, I
> : felt like the elder statesman of the group. Yet the youthful
> : enthusiasm and stoke of these men even revved me up in my surfing
> : and desire to ride waves with abandon. But at days end my creaky
> : joints reminded me I was old enough to be the father of a few.
>
> Bah....You didn't need us for the youthful enthusiasm; You
> had that on your own, and I never heard your creaky joints.
I agree there too.
Foon you're kidding yourself.
You play yourself to be older and more out of shape than you really are.
What lies under your skin is a man half your age.
> : As suspected, the ingestion of
> : beers and other inebriates brought to our attention that M@rk's
> : artistic skills are not razor sharp after the fact. This was made
> : powerfully evident when he produced what was supposed to be a
> : mosquito, that actually looked (swear to God) like a flying
> : tampon.
>
> This may be one of those "you had to be there" things, but
> that mosquito incident had me laughing the hardest I did all
> weekend. It really was a sorry excuse for a bug (sorry, M@rk. If
> it helps, the rest was awesome, and you did do a pretty good
> salvage of the mosquito). It was even funnier to watch Mark's
> reaction to the almost simultaneous and spontaneous criticism
> of the skeeter by everyone. A hard crowd, eh?
That was DEFINATELY a funny monment!
I can't draw or illustrate ANY animate objects
such as people, animals, plantlife, etc.
Drawing a mosquito is out of the question!
It ended up looking like a mongoloid hybrid of
a hummingbird and a yellowjacket, stick figure style!
<snip>
> So there ya have it, I gave in. I was kinda glad though,
> cuz it really *was* fun to hang around and just chill with
> everyone together. Now if I coulduv just gotten everyone
> to stay up later!
Sorry bro! I really do regret not staying up all
night to party on, but after surfing as many intense
waves for as many hours as I did I just could NOT
keep my eyes open anymore, 'specially after bonin-up!
> If Johnw follows through on his intent
> to come to Hatteras at the end of October, I may be able
> to redeem myself by *really* camping in even harsher conditions.
> We'll see.
F that! We're gonna rent one of them giant houses next
year and throw a rager! The hell w/ camping, you wouldn't
want to miss out on the fun!
~~~~~m@r|<
Proud Member, The Church of Surfing Since 1983
http://www.monmouth.com/user_pages/sisom
Printed on 100% recycled electrons
Peter Krivcov
> F that! We're gonna rent one of them giant houses next
> year and throw a rager! The hell w/ camping, you wouldn't
> want to miss out on the fun!
>
> ~~~~~m@r|<
> Proud Member, The Church of Surfing Since 1983
> http://www.monmouth.com/user_pages/sisom
> Printed on 100% recycled electrons
Glad to see that a great time was had by all. I kept thinkin about you guys
down there that weekend. Bummin I couldn't make it.
Maybe next year, if it happens again.
Later.
Pete.
m@rk
Next year, same time same channel.
This time we rent big houses and rage on!
steve m
: Next year, same time same channel.
: This time we rent big houses and rage on!
Since I keep seeing the big houses mentioned...If you're
talking about those big 3 and 4 story mansions we saw, start
saving your money now. If they run the same as they do
in the northern part, they're about 5 to 6K in season, and
2-3K after Labor Day for a week. Hmmm, now that I think
about it, if ya get about 10 people around the same time
we did it this year, that would only be about 300 per
person....Not *too* bad for a week in Hatteras.
I, ofcourse, would stay in a tent in the back yard, sneak
into the hottub only once in awhile, and have you guys send
my meals down on the elevator.
SurffOhio
>Hmmm, now that I think
>about it, if ya get about 10 people around the same time
>we did it this year, that would only be about 300 per
>person....Not *too* bad for a week in Hatteras.
True. A large house can be had,
and the individual cash outlay
would be
reasonable due to the amount
of people saying there. ( I dare
not say a peep about wanting
to go next time. :-))
Surff
Surff
m@rk
> m@rk wrote:
>
> : Next year, same time same channel.
> : This time we rent big houses and rage on!
>
> Since I keep seeing the big houses mentioned...If you're
> talking about those big 3 and 4 story mansions we saw, start
> saving your money now. If they run the same as they do
> in the northern part, they're about 5 to 6K in season, and
> 2-3K after Labor Day for a week. Hmmm, now that I think
> about it, if ya get about 10 people around the same time
> we did it this year, that would only be about 300 per
> person....Not *too* bad for a week in Hatteras.
I wasn't thinking those sizes, but now that you
mention it it sounds great. Those houses are GIANT.
I was talking about ones you can get for like
450 for the week for a sick pad that sleeps
10 comfortably. Do the math
Fun
> I, ofcourse, would stay in a tent in the back yard, sneak
> into the hottub only once in awhile, and have you guys send
> my meals down on the elevator.
scrub
Big ----> <G>
C. Myron Ware
just what is was I must have been babbling about. Surely it wasn't
*that* noteworthy, was it? :) Actually, it was a very entertaining
conversation and I wish I'd taken better notes so I could submit a
decent Foon-sposé for the group at large. (note to self: less
party-liquids next time)
Myron
Foon <wfo...@nist.gov> wrote:
>The ceremony over and pictures taken (we will post one of these
>no matter what happened to my camera) the core contingent took
>off for a dusk patrol and evening surfcheck/session at the Cape
>Hatteras Lighthouse. Since I was totally toasted, Myron and I
>repaired to the Foonsuite to get acquainted, talk story, and
>drink more shots of whiskey. We had a lot of things in common to
>talk about, and I was able to find out about his secret life. But
>that's another story.
----------------------------------------
C. Myron Ware Senior Prog/Analyst, CNE
http://www.geocities.com/Colosseum/1370/