Frosty Mornings

In a deep sleep, I'm suddenly startled. Groggily, I blindly search for my iPhone on the nightstand to turn off the alarm. Looking out the window, the surrounding redwood trees are just silhouettes masking the rising sun. The apple trees having lost their leaves a while ago stand naked in the orchard across the way.

Rolling out of bed, I shuffle into my pants and throw on my down jacket to shake off the goosebumps. Cold but warming up, I make my way out the front door only to slip on the frosty deck. Nearly wiping out, I regain my balance and and carefully tip toe to my truck.

Frosty sunrise

Surf gear loaded, I excitedly hop in my truck to get the heater going only to realize that every window is frozen. Talking to myself, I unload the contents of my glovebox.

"Where's my ice scraper?"

Finding the little red plastic putty knife at the bottom of the glovebox, I begin scraping my truck windows. With each scrape my hands become more numb and begin to turn into crippled claws. Satisfied with the frost removal, I hop back in the truck, put it in gear, and I'm out the driveway.

A short time later down the road, I'm at the overlook for one of the local surf spots in Mendocino. Looking down from the cliff, old redwood sinker logs sit on the beach as a reminder of the logging era that's been long gone. Just beyond that, there are a few peeling waves coming through to the beach and nobody is out.

Framed

Indecisively I sit at the vista point for a few more minutes debating to brave the cold or not. Hearing a large diesel truck pull into the parking lot, I turn around to see it's my friend. Giving him a thumbs up through the windshield, he throws me a shaka back. Without a verbal cue, we head down to the beach knowing that we have a buddy to share a few waves with.

 Open air living

 Downtown Mendocino

 Standing among giants

Stars

A Break In The Rain And A Hike Through The Redwoods In The PNW

It's my first real winter in the Pacific Northwest for the past few years and it has taken some time to get used to. The days are shorter but they feel longer. More time is spent inside keeping warm by the fire dreaming about sunnier times than outside braving the bone chilling wind and rain. Looking out the window brings about a melancholy feeling as the world outside is saturated in dark grey. Due to the heavy winds it has been raining sideways forcing water beneath the redwood shingles and flashing directly into the house. We try our best to batten down the hatches but nature always wins.

Finally noticing a break in the rain, I grabbed my fleece and camera and bolted out the front door like a golden retriever that's excited about life. After being cooped up in the house for the past couple of days I was beginning to feel like a caged bird. Hopping in my truck, it roared to life as I headed up into the redwoods.

The golden hour in Mendocino

Swinging my legs and letting them dangle off the seat of my truck, I look down to make sure there isn't a puddle awaiting my feet. Satisfied I grab my camera and head out into the redwood forest. Walking along a deer trail, the overhanging sword ferns paint my jeans with water drops as I walk through them. Taking a deep breath the wet air is crisp with heavy notes of earthy smells.

 Dwarfed

A burnt out Redwood from within

Walking down the mountain side into the valley floor the air temperature suddenly drops. The damp air cuts through my clothes like a knife. I'm suddenly much colder now than I was in below zero Alaska. Chilled but continuing on, I savor these last moments outdoors before hunkering back down to prepare for the next set of storms that are arriving.

The creeks and rivers are flowing

 Rain pouring down the rain chain

The rain gauge shows 4.5 inches of rain in the past three days

Chasing Swell Down The California Coast

It’s currently 10PM on a Sunday as we drive along Highway One. Heading inland to reach the main freeway, we are shrouded by heavy fog as we twist and turn through the redwood forest. Navigating the road with expertise, my friend at the wheel is focused on making good time to Berkeley.

“Dude, we are going to score.”

Tall, with short, curly, dirty blonde hair, my high school friend Alex is well built from years of working in Alaska on fishing vessels. Contacting me the night before, he asked if I wanted to head South to chase a swell to Santa Barbara. Looking at the swell forecast for Northern California, the charts were dark red indicating that abnormally large waves were on the way. Looking at the individual buoys along the coast, some were reading thirty-seven feet at seventeen seconds. However, down the coast the waves were forecasted to be perfect and well groomed due to protection from the Channel Islands. How could I say no?

Reaching Alex’s sister’s house in Berkeley at midnight, we shuffle up the steps and unlock the front door. Walking into the upstairs unit, the burnt red cedar floors aged with footsteps creek as we walk on them. Making our way into the living room, the décor is fit for an Urban Outfitters catalog. The antique crème yellow gas stove boils water in the corner while a Van Morrison LP spins on a record player in the background. Too tired to explore my new surroundings I begin to doze listening to Van Morrison and the housemates talk about their PhDs in art history. It’s a hipster’s paradise.

With the IPhone alarm ringing in my ear at 4:30AM, I try to ignore it as long as possible. Shutting it off, I whisper over to Alex, “we are going to regret not getting up right now. “ Climbing out of our sleeping bags, we pack them up and shuffle down the cedar staircase in darkness. Not seeing the fixie at the front of the door, I trip over it on the way out.

Reaching Rincon in the early afternoon, we pull into the massive parking lot. Every space is taken in the parking lot and all of the street parking is nonexistent. After some shuffling we find a spot in the overflow parking lot.

Looking at Alex I say, “Seems like we aren’t the only ones looking forward to the swell arriving today. I think all of Santa Barbara and Ventura called in sick.”

“Just keep your head down and look mean when you're paddling for waves.”

“I think we should get a honorary award for driving almost the entire coast of California to surf this swell.”

Suiting up, we grab our boards and head to the beach in search of a few waves with far too many people. Mentally and physically preparing, Alex and I paddle out into the subtropical water with two hundred other people looking for the same thing. It’s what we do for a few perfect waves.

Check out the last trip to Santa Barbara California

The North Pole Of Alaska

Stepping outside into the frosted world, the wind whipped into the sleeves of my jacket immediately chilling my skin. My heavy boots slightly resembling an astronaut's, trudge heavily through the snow. At thirty below zero my eye lashes begin to freeze together and with every inhale and exhale, my throat slightly burns as the water vapors freeze to the inside of my throat.

Looking up at the tree line, the sun barely touches the tree tops at noon. The winter days seem to be in perpetual twilight as the soft light casts a sunset glow across everything. The surrounding trees frozen with icicles shine as if they were strung with hanging diamond ornaments.

It's almost like a fairytale, everywhere I look is a photo worthy of a postcard. The extremes of the North Pole are so harsh that the surrounding environment keeps me in awe. Taking a break from staring aimlessly at the scenery, I embrace the harshness and step further into the woods in search of nothing.

Glowing

Snow Pup

They have the North most everything...