SURFIN' SAFARI SUMMER ONE - DAY SIXTEEN Aug. 14, 2019



Yes, we are still at it, maintaining the pace. Summer is beginning to wane. A few weeks ago we left the house at 6 p.m. and got to the beach with a full sun in our faces until about 8:30 p.m. Today we did the same, but the source of all warmth and energy had already dipped behind the Santa Monica Mountains when we arrived about 7 p.m. As pledged after Day 15, we headed out to Topanga Beach, willing to take on the traffic (on the water) so long as there were some decent waves. We had an idea to maybe pull off at Kooks Corner (see Surfin' Safari Day 6), but there were no waves there, or anywhere else on the way to Topanga…except at Topanga. It was tough to grab one with the standout riders there, but at least it was surfing. I struggle in such situations. I’m not a competitive surfer. I took it up too late in life to worry about being better than others. I find peace in it, and metaphors, corny as that may sound. Sometimes, you get to one of these top spots and, for whatever reason, nobody is there that day and it’s Nirvana. Great waves and no fight and, after a session

like that, you feel good about yourself as a surfer. It wasn’t like that tonight, but I stayed in the water for about 90 minutes, never tiring, dropping into one or two corners, and another pair in-close to shore that the other dudes and dudettes turned up their noses at. It was night surfing which is kind of mystical, but disorienting. With a bright moon it can be special, but there was cloud cover and the ocean froze mat gray; perspective on the waves hard to fix. Topanga is a little bit country, a little bit city, the last urban outpost before a deeper night darkness envelopes, so that when you are surfing and look to shore there are royal palms on the hills, orbited by the carpet lighting of urbanity, summer Christmas trim. We finally got to the taco stand (at Sepulveda and National) we couldn’t get to on Surfin’ Safari Day 14 (because I’d forgotten my wallet).

Anna and I recommend them and we know a little something about street tacos by now. The “al pastor” variety involves a chili rubbed pork, slow cooked on a spit, with a pineapple at the top (see grainy photo). They shear off thin slices onto the tortilla with a serrated electric knife and then flick a sliver of pineapple on top. The presentation is finished with a spicy avocado salsa and thank whomever for another day of being alive.




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