westport, the great

How glamorous is surfing in Washington State? Not. At. All. I need to dispel the connotations which Quicksilver and Roxy have worked so hard to rumor. I don't want to run around saying that I *surf* and conjure up images in peoples' minds of suntans, bikinis, coconut oil, sand volleyball and beautiful people.

First of all, it is raining most of the time. If not raining, it's totally cloudy. Everyone is wearing a wetsuit and most of the people out there are old dudes with bellies. When it's not raining, people sort of camp out on the beach and eat picnics. The only thing is that they wear sweaters with their shorts. Or just keep wearing their wetsuit for hours, because it's warmer and works well in case it starts raining again. Surfing in general is not a lot like the movies (keeping with pretty much everything in life). They never show all the paddling, the whitewater, the waiting, the missing, the snotty nose, the burning eyes, the matted hair, the dance you have to do to get into your wetsuit, the paranoia of strapping things to your car roof on the highway or the rinsing of gear required when you get home.

Even though there is nothing really very cool about surfing up here, I love it. A lot. I prefer wetsuit surfing because I don't get as bruised and scraped up. The water is icy, but that is what the hood and booties are for. You can't even feel it when you are all bundled up in a wetsuit as thick as mine. Our breaks are inconsistent and never great, but quite good. And the best part is that because it is so uncool, no one is trying to act like something they are not. With the exception of a few young girls and 17 year old boys, it's just a lot of normal people, recreating.

Except for the one lady this last weekend. Mark, my charming surfing partner, couldn't go out, so I pinned Melissa down and twisted her arm until she agreed that she wanted to come out, even though she doesn't like to surf. Sitting on the sand having lunch, this deranged dog kept hopping and running around wearing some kind of nerdy life jacket, with an empty poop bag tied to the top. She had a rhinestone collar that said 'Pumpkin'.

The dog was reasonably cute and funny to watch, but seemed to be a little slow. She visited everyone on the beach several times and her owner would jump up and call her back periodically. The owner, I believe, surfed for a little while, but then stripped down to a little bikini, Hurley fashion hoodie and a cowboy hat before setting her board up against the driftwood and settling into her beach chair. She carried on a few very loud conversations with passing guys and mostly pranced around the area in much the same way as her developmentally delayed dog did. I guess I can't blame her for trying to bring the cool factor up a little closer to Huntington Beach, even if it wasn't working at all.