The Cove
One day Mark and I drove to CB to talk to our Salty Hammocks rental agency. We needed to discuss what supplies and repairs were needed for our condo. While we were chatting the Realtor told us about a newly built house in Kure Beach that was up for sale.
The builder and the owner couldn't agree on something so the owner put the place up for sale on a whim. The Realtor drove us down Hwy 421 and turned right about 1/4 of a mile north of Fort Fisher State Park and Civil War Museum...and grounds of one of the finest left point breaks in NC; the Cove. We bought the KB house within the week. We put our Wilmington house up for sale and it sold in less than a month. The drive into Wilmington to do business became longer, but, we were now across the street from the beach. I could literally do the radio surf report from my bedroom window...and I did.
Q, Shaun, Sarah and I in HB Calif.
This year I made another trip to California. I took Q so he could surf the West Coast. One day we got up early and drove South looking for waves. There was a 6 to 8ft. swell rolling in but the winds were threatening to be on it early, along with the rains. By the time we pulled up to Cardiff the bad weather had begun. Conditions were getting worse every minute so Q decided he wanted to paddle out at Cardiff-By-The-Sea. I was too picky to surf big blown out chop. Kneeboarders have a tendency to bounce around like flying skipping-stone on any-size chop. We can't absorb bounce as well as stand-upers. Our knees are bent for other reasons. On big, big waves I'm stoked my knees are already in praying mode.
That day of bad weathered winds Q paddled out by himself. While I watched him from the rental car all I could think about was him downing. He was the only guy out and if something were to happen I wasn't sure if I could get to him in time. After he took a few waves and rode them with confidence I relaxed a little and enjoyed the idea of him experiencing something new. About an hour later Q got out of the water all stoked. When it came to surfing, he was easy to impress.
We drove farther down to check out Blacks. It was choppy and not worth the hike, plus the rains were intensifying. It was a shame the weather was so bad because Blacks had good size.
"Oh well," I said to Q, "at least you see it's potential."
On the way back we stopped at every surf spot we could that he had seen in the magazines and movies. Even though that day wasn't very good for surfing, it was good for geography. During the rest of the trip we caught nice waves in Huntington and Newport.
My kids didn't surf, so in Calif. they occupied their time with horses and music. One night Shaun, Q, and I went to a Punk Rock concert at a small place in the heart of Santa Anna. I was a little nervous (and old). Because of my thin muscular physique sometimes young people think I'm a cop. People in other countries think I'm a pro volleyball player (or soccer) until they see me with a surfboard. Either way I get checked out and it makes me nervous. I didn't drink because I learned, in the worst way, about getting too dizzy to think and/or react in a pushy situation while intoxicated (or drugged up). I guess this is why, in certain crowds, I seem to give off an unapproachable vibe. Truth be told, I think this crowd thought I was undercover.
This In-The-Hood concert place was packed. I chatted with a couple of people but it was hard to hear so I just smiled and kept my eyes (like a bodyguard) on my two responsibilities who were up front with the band. I'm not going to lie, I was glad when the concert was over and we left at 2am without a life changing event. Even though Santa Anna was a place to hear up-and-coming yet still underground bands, it isn't a place for outsiders.
This year Mark decided to take me to my dream right point break...Jeffrey's Bay South Africa. I had always wanted to surf the spot ever since I saw it on Endless Summer. My whole life I thought J Bay was the perfect right point break. On this trip the waves were 8 to 10 to 12 feet of balls-to-the-wall racers. I didn't realize how fast J Bay waves were and I found myself constantly riding high to make sections. The place was crowded too! I spent a lot of energy dodging and bobbing. The crowd reminded me of Huntington Pier or Sebastian Inlet. The surfers were so revved up and crazy with shark tales too.
While I was paddling out people would yell at me for splashing with my flippers. "You're attracting sharks." they'd yell at me. At this time So. Africa was experiencing a high number of attacks. In '97 Ian James Hill died from an attack while surf-fishing Pringle Bay. In '98 bodyboarder Anton Devos died while at Gonubie Point. In 1999 14 year old surfer Hercules Pretorius would die while surfing Buffels Bay. I had never been so shark spooked then when I was surfing J Bay. It was kind of creepy.
J Bay So. Africa
I wanted to take the kids to South Africa because they were born and being raised rich-like in the South. I wanted them to understand the true meaning of the word Oppression. The Blacks in America haven't a clam on oppression like the Blacks in So. Africa. I wanted my kids to see that, and, what class distinctions can do when money provides motivation and fear. As we drove around So. Africa we saw shanty towns behind barb-wire fences full of Blacks while the Dutch built houses and businesses around them. When we'd go to a place where a Black So. African worked I noticed they wouldn't look us in the eyes. When I said "thank you" they'd be surprised. I was uncomfortable with such distinctions. To me they're my equal. God taught me that long ago.
My goal for the trip was for my children to somehow form empathy by what they saw. Empathy is better than sympathy in my book. Empathy moves fences while sympathy is passive. I also didn't want my kids believing that the African Americans in the good old USA are oppressed with their multiple TV's, complete with cable, microwave ovens, cell phones, and cars with pimped out chrome, just to name a few things US taxpayers pay A-mer-I-c(see)-an opportunity type people.
I was excited to drive a car with a left handed dashboard
The funny thing about driving in So. Africa was that one can look like a tourist without even getting out of the car. All I had to do was turn on my blinker (which I'm in the habit of doing) and when the window-wipers came on they screamed "tourist!!!" Turning corners was a contemplated experience too. Nothing says sitting duck like a car stopped in the middle of an intersection with its wipers (complete with water) going off in storm mode while they try to figure out which lane to turn into.
I watched people notice my kid's different hair color in So. Africa. Shaun was sporting blue and Sarah's was bleached with dark streaks. When we drove around Kruger Park the kids were as popular as the wildlife. The Blacks hardly noticed because they rarely looked up, but the Whites would stare, grab their kids and point. I think some of them thought my kids were suffering from some rare American disease. Personally I found their reaction amusing.
On our last day there we went to the Hard Rock Cafe in Johannesburg. After dropping the rental car off we took a cab through town. The driver told us that there were only 6 police officers in all of Johannesburg and not to go out of the fenced in area around the restaurant.
"I'll be back in an hour to pick you up. Stay inside the place until I come to the door." the cabbie said as he dropped us off. On the drive I noticed hundreds of concrete walls with broken bottles plastered on the top like barb-wire. The walls were around the houses like deadly office cubical dividers.
In the end, with all the wave close-outs, Great White sharks, and potential for violence, my dream right point break had the penumbra of a nightmare. But my kids saw a country in the mists of civil disarray and yet on the edge of racial repair. It was a place and a time in history schools could never explain like actually seeing it. I'm glad we all went.
This was year Hurricane Bonnie hit. After surfing Holden Beach we sealed up our new KB house, packed some bags and spent the night at the surf shop. While Bonnie pounded us with record breaking rains Mark, the kids and I camped out in sleeping bags entertaining ourselves with books, games and the weather radio. We had a full cooler and a big bag of snacks. We also had plenty of water, gas, and a generator. By now Hurricanes were a way of life.
After the wet, windy, window leaking commotion subsided we loaded up the cars and headed back to our new beach house to assess the damage. It was still raining but the winds were pretty calm. About 1/4 mile from Snow's Cut Bridge we saw the line of cars. The authorities weren't letting homeowners on Pleasure Island and wouldn't be for a couple of days because of all wind and rain damage. Pissed we were missing all the good surf we turned around and headed back to the shop.
It took the officials three days before they let us back on the island. In the mean time rains were leaking through our roof and soaked the insolation in the attic. It eventually fell through the ceiling upstairs in our bedroom. Because we were unable to get to it for a couple of days the insolation stained the floor. It was a big mess.
Bonnie's Aftermath Controversy: Even though authorities were not letting homeowners on the island they were letting construction and repair workers on to clear the roads and fix down wires. Local law enforcement from other counties were allowed access to the island also, along with people who had boats. While they were thinking about our safety houses were getting broken into and businesses were being looted. I decided it was going to take a pretty big hurricane to get me off this island again....then Floyd hit in '99.
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