21 May 2014

You Can't Harsh My Mellow

There was a real Cranky Frank in the lineup at Green Pipes this morning. "These waves are really junky," he grumbled. "Even the ones that look decent turn out to be crap."

"It got fun for about 15 minutes earlier... Still better than not surfing," I said perkily. "And at least the water's warm!"

He continued to glower. "I sure hope this sea-sickness clears up soon," he muttered. Even after he rode one of the better waves on offer, with a shoulder that held up for a few seconds - before wiping out a bit close to me - his face didn't show the slightest hint of a smile.

I felt briefly sad for this man who seemed unable to find any joy in being in the warm ocean on a lovely sunny day, with a light crowd and light chop, and riding small waves that were fun with appropriate expectations. But I didn't let him harsh my mellow.

Later, as I walked up the sand, I passed a woman taking pictures of a kelp leaf. Ah, tourists, and the mundane beachy things they find fascinating! But then she pointed to the small crab nestled underneath, looking out at the world from an impromptu leaf-cave. "He's hiding!" she said.

"And probably not happy. They're usually in the rocks," I told her. With no tidepools or jetties anywhere near, I wondered what the little guy or girl was doing so far from home, and what would happen when the tide pulled out even farther. There's probably a life metaphor in there somewhere.

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