|Hazy summer days. OC skyline from the Assawoman Bay, 7/19/2014|
Taken on a new job. A new life. Maybe more like a renewed life. In Chicago. Got engaged during the Christmas holiday. My fiance (from Chicago) has chillens to keep on the collegiate straight and narrow over the next few years. My "bookends" seem to be moving well in there lives. So the plan is to take care of life there, then return to life here...or somewhere near the 'Shore. Been several years in the planning. So, as I finish up my time at work and get my affairs in order, I make the most of the surf. Regardless of conditions.
|Seemed like every wave was a fight or a beating.|
Thursday. Now I know what "pound fishing" is all about...to the fish. Drilled. Slammed. Rolled. And otherwise pounded. Nor'east winds chopping up the waist to chest swell. I could judge the rip to get into the lineup, but other than a short stand before the next drilling I was pretty much out for the count during this session. At least at 76F the water was warm. Biggest kook move? Having my board knocked from under me as I was coming into shore midway through. I was literally rolled like sushi down the beach; tumbled and dragged through the sand and foamy whitewater pushed by the strong south current. Like a rip that wouldn't let go. Skinned and sore. Though I headed back in, I finished a bit bitter and hurtin'.
|Morning invite, 47th Street. 7/19/2015|
Yesterday, the way every Sunday morning should start. Humid and warm; in the lower eighties. The Atlantic shimmering like diamonds. Even with small knee to thigh surf, I couldn't wait to get into the water. Did the 47th Street break. At 8AM a fairly empty beach. Venders still getting their umbrellas and chairs set up. By 9AM, the families were gathering. Setting up like a church congregation making camp for a Sunday morning outing. I had found a set break around the jetty markers, exactly where a whole gaggle of siblings took part in the ritualistic sand sculpture, destruction, fight. With small surf rides tend to get close to the shoreline. They always seemed to be right where my ride would end. For a moment frustration began to set in, but then I let go of my localism, conceded the beach; moved down south a block. And like Karma, the sets lined up to be driven. Had a backside that turned into one of the best rides of the morning. Stoke begets stoke. Left on the beach patrols call at 10:00.
Sun-day worship service.
Showered up while I talked to an older gentleman who'd been doin' Ocean City since the 60's. Shared memories, people we had in common. Everyone...everything. Just seems to pop out 'atcha when you're movin' on. Whether driving in or heading out.
|...but a pool is a nice alternative. Both at the 47th St. break.|
Did a scrapple, egg, and cheese on wheat toast from Anthony's on 17th and knocked it back with an iced Dunkin. Tasty post-surf breakfast to end a sweet morning session.
The afternoon's beer reviews include two local Maryland beers. Heavy Seas with their newest summer can release, Smooth Sail. An American Wheat Ale that pours a clear, pale gold with a simple white finger head. I liked this one. Light, but noticeable hops at 18 IBU and a refreshing finish with enough malt and wheat backbone to make it very drinkable. 4.5% alcohol to sip again and again. Not a stand out, but solid. Rated a B-.
Rubber Soul is Salisbury's newest brewery. Opened since early July, this place already sells out every day they're open. So brewery expansion is needed. They do the "Crowler" thing so that's a plus. I brought back the Paceline IPA. A session IPA at 4.3% this pours an clear amber with a 2 finger head. Classic bitterness of an India Pale. More like an English Pale, which I'm not as much into. Good lacing and carbonation. 50 IBUs with less grapefuitiness, more of a bitter dry. Rated a B- as well.
"God made beer so men can dance"