day 53

Leaving the fun of Miami was hard but I was ready to get on the road to go see my Brother and his family on the Gulf Coast. Besides, the surf was supposed to come up in the Naples to Venice area. After a dreary drive across Alligator Alley, I landed at the Naples pier. Waist hight sets dumped on the beach and there were about 7 to 10 people out. It was pretty much shit but I wanted to say I surfed on the Gulf Coast... I looked at it for ten minutes then decided to head north. Several false "check it's" later I pulled off on Connecticut St. in Fort Meyers. There I found some knee to thigh high peelers rolling in and a little channel splitting left and right peaks. The wind was light offshore and it spit the chocolaty water back toward the Gulf in the most beautiful fashion. STOKED!! I grabbed my log and went out, trunking it for a two hour solo session with an audience of four disbelieving retirees.

Day 48 to 52

Fun in Miami.... After getting stuck in a huge traffic jam just outside of town. I made my way down to Miami Beach. Dumped the van in some neighborhood and lit out on my bike to get in the ocean and explore South Beach. Post glorious swim I rang my new friend Blain to pine for more info on the Miami hotspots (thrift stores and record shops..etc). To my surprise, she and her friend Mirti were on South Beach just a couple blocks away! Sweet! We hung up and all met up for some fun. Eating followed swimming which was followed again by more swimming under the near full moon. There was much speculation as to the proximity of bull sharks near to where we were splashing about. We put the odds in our favor and just had a blast. Blain had to catch a super early flight the next morning but that didn't stop us from having some drinks and rolling bones for dimes. High rollers. I got taken for about $5 since I provided all the dimes and lost every round. Not to worry, I'll get a chance to win my dough back at some point. I'm sure I'll see these two again.

Day 45 to 47

Woke up in back of a hotel parking lot and made a b-line to the Avalon Pier around 8am. I found some waist to chest high peelers moving through and one guy out. No coffee. No food. Just put on some trunks and a wetsut vest and hit it. Came in ate breakfast and made some coffee then hit it again. Didn't even take any pictures. Just surfed. By 1PM there were seven really happy local folks having a great time in the unusually warm water. I got out and watched them frolic for a while then hit the road south. I planned to surf in Hatteras but the crowd to wave ratio was wrong even though the shape was right. I motored on. Caught a ferry to Okracoke Island...then another to Cedar Island. Slept on Cedar Island then at dawn lit out for the I95 south. Through the Carolinas and Georgia the air was thick and muggy. I called Blain who was down in the Keys at this point chipping the rust off her fishing skills. She said she had some pals in St. Augustine who I should hook up with and I wanted to line it up before rolling into town. Between gasps of excitment and one hang up due to a four foot Tarpon that was swiming around her baited line, she assured me she had friends at a spot called the Cafe 11 in St. Augustine who would help me out. With the appropriate info penned down I landed at Cafe 11 around 8pm. I explained my situation to the waitress..how I was just passing through, and was friends with some of her friends etc... and she told me I could park out back for the night. I devoured Mahi wrap and I crawled in back of the van for the night. I could have suffucated the air was so thick in there! I wanted a battery powered fan bad. I finally manged to sweat myself to sleep around 4am. Maybe I just passed out from dehydration...I don't know. Thanks to the folks at Cafe 11.

Day 43 and 44

A week in California did for me everything I needed and then some. I was ready to get back on the road but was still trying to line up some riders for the rest of the trip. On a whim, some friends from SF told me about this girl they knew in Brooklyn who surfed, was "rad" and was looking to get to Florida for some RnR. "Great!", I said. "Lets make it happen". Next thing I knew I was fresh off a red eye from SF and ringing the door bell of some strangers flat in Brooklyn. Circumstances lined up nicely. Two days, a couple new friends, and several late nights later, I was primed for the road but still minus my rider. Blain, who's flat I invaded so early that morning was in fact looking to get to Florida, but had already booked a flight. So as it was, I remained a solo traveler. I'd had a great time in New York regardless. Third visit in a month and at least the memories were with me for the long haul. The morning I left New York, Blain and I found ourselves on an ill fated shopping excursion en route to her office with a less than perfect nights sleep under our belts. Feeling kinda slow and empty handed we arrived to the corner where I'd leave her. After a brief goodbye double parked between the change in traffic lights, she went toward work and I went toward New Jersey.

Day 41 and 42......Goin Home!!!!

Times up! Packed one bag. Left the van.

Day 37 to 40

The ferry ride from Yarmouth, NS to Portland, Maine although pricey, was totally worth it. It's a super fast and stable craft with plenty of legroom and decent drink prices. The ferry dumped me off around 11pm and I parked for the night in Portland. The next day I headed south to Ogunquit. The sun was out and the weather unseasonably fine. Nearly seventy eight degrees! There was a little swell in the water and I found some really fun longboard waves at the river mouth. I surfed alone for two hours...Ate two or three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches then surfed some more. Damn, I needed that! This was a real treat since I hit bottom up in Nova Scotia. Also, a nice primer for surfing back home next week! I can't wait to get home...

Day 36

Leaving Halifax I motored south on the 103 toward Yarmouth, a four hour drive away. My plan was to make it last a day and hopefully find some surf along the way. As the fog wisps receded out to sea the sun shone bright on the rugged coastline. I passed a sign which read "Liverpool next exit" and below that a smaller sign read "Hank Snow Country Music Centre". I pulled off semi erratically and rolled in to town eyes peeled for the museum. I found it in an old railroad station not a thousand feet from the exit. I knew Hanks music, but I didn't know too much of his history. Within minutes I learned Hank Snow was a native of Nova Scotia who's presence on the Grand Ole Oprey made him a household name. He was more a fisherman than a cowboy when he began writing songs while working on a fishing boat in the cold Atlantic waters. He acquired his first pair of cowboy boots second hand from a guy who rode a horse in a traveling show that stopped in town. He bought a horse and trained it to do tricks and such then spent years traveling North America performing as The Singing Ranger. He, his family, and the horse all lived in the same truck during this period of time. In a video, his son recalled each night before the family went to sleep (in the same bed above the truck cab) Hank would slide open a little window not more than a foot from them and feed his horse sugar cubes. I suddenly felt like I was traveling lavishly. This was a great little museum which was a treat to come upon. Before I left the curator asked me to sign the guest book. She inspected it and happily informed me that I was the first person from San Francisco to visit. Hopefully not the last. www.hanksnow.com

I arrived in Yarmouth around 3PM and there was a mean fog brewing in the harbor. I decided to park the van and try to make it out to the light house in the outer harbor and back before dark. The fog was so thick that after a mile of riding, my face and clothes were beaded with moisture. Damp and quiet. I could only hear the sound of the wind passing my ears as I cruised passed both cows and fishing boats in the same stretch of road. I thought about the up coming ferry passage and the potential for surf in Maine. I thought about the smell of the subway in New York and the warm dry air that might be blowing off shore somewhere in California. I thought about my friends between here and there and I thought about that girl. It began to rain and I pedaled slower and enjoyed the ride.

day 33 to 35

The drive from NH to Nova Scotia was a solid five hundred plus miles of beautiful trees in near full fall color. Sunset was at 7PM and I rolled on another six hours arriving at the beach in Lawrencetown by 1AM. Morning light brought a heavy heart. Flat surf conditions and onshore wind. Boo Hoo kids. After 5500 miles of vanning alone with the hopes of scoring some epic right point surf, my whoopie cushion deflated with that familiar farting sound. Not so funny this time. I attempted to fend off my disappointment by setting out on a five mile bike ride along a picturesque old railroad bed snaking its way past salt marshes and teams of sea birds. The diffused sun paused the day in a hazy mid morning light that made my body feel heavy with sleep. My head developed a post party night fogginess and I lost interest in the beauty around me. I wanted a latté and a seat by a sidewalk teaming with people who's lives I could speculate on based on their outfits. I wanted my favorite burrito. I wanted that girl and my friends to be here with me. Goddamn, here it was. I felt alone and kind of depressed. I pulled my bike over and sat for a while thinking. I closed my eyes and just pictured it all as I wanted it. Home, surf, girl, burrito, latté. Five minutes later I actually felt better. The wind was dead calm and the tide falling. I pedaled back to the van with zest and decided to check the point again for any signs of surf. There was the littlest bump on the water when I arrived and there was one guy out. That sealed the deal. I was in the water for two hours until the wind was blowing so hard on shore that I just let it blow me in to the beach. With the wind swell dropping, I decided to head to Halifax for the next two days for some city time. It's a good town with a feeling that blends a bit of SF and NY into a smaller city. It was just what I needed. Plenty of people, lattés and good food. I received an email about a job back in SF and thought how fortunate! Perfect timing! I promptly bought a plane ticket home and booked my self and the van a spot on the CAT. This is the high speed ferry that goes from Yarmouth, NS to Portland, Maine. There was no way I was doing that eleven hour trip again. The CAT only took six hours to get to Maine where I was scheduled to meet the parents for a little holiday weekend visit. Stoked! It was all lining up! In a week I'd be home!


This stuff is so good.

At The Fair

Epic tees. I've got a team of researchers on this phenomenon.



The livestock....










Here is my homage to the Sartorialist...Fair Fashion.


















...AND let's not forget the food.