Crossing Tracks -- 3/14/98

Tracks was pretty good

Big surf was on the way, but I just didn't feel up to it. Instead, I hit the Westside in search of some smaller wrap. Drove all the way up the coast to check out the action, but the only good place was this ultra-radical, aptly named spot called Minefields. Pass.

I finally settled for Tracks, the first main break on the West Side. It was there that I hooked up with my friend Gary, a friend in the industry. We paddled out to the right side in search of some fun stuff.

Surf was an inconsistent 2-4' (Haw'n), with good shape. Sand Dunes was the call, especially because of the ever-present crowd at Tracks proper. I scored some great rights, getting good, closeout tubes mixed in with the occasional launch. It was fun, but not a truly memorable surf.

However, one of the most interesting things about the session was just listening to some of the locals. They are whom I call the hidden locals; the ones you don't see at the marquee spots. I don't want to sound too condescending, but if not for surfing, I'm sure our life paths would rarely cross, if ever.

One guy talked about grabbing his friend's half-roach of "buds" after they got out of the water. Another yelled to no one in particular that he lives to drink beer. I think they both lived out of their cars, camping on the beaches along the coast. These guys could give a flying f**k about things like Roth IRA's or who President Clinton has boinked last -- they're just trying to make it day-to-day.

However, they have the same stoke on surfing as anyone else on the planet. Maybe theirs is even more pure form. Even though we spent only a few hours together in the lineup, we all enjoyed the camaraderie of being surfriders, sharing some good ones on a sunny morning. I guess that there truly are some things money can't buy.

We may live different lives, but paths can cross and boundaries can be brought down through a common love. Wish it could be so simple for the rest of the world...

Aloha from Paradise,