Guam

Okinawa

No Waves Here

People that don't surf will tell you, "there are no waves here". It is a refrain I have heard all over the world. The above picture is of Wallace Air Station, on the China Sea, in the Philippines. I was told bringing a board on that tour, was a waste of time. There is a point break around the upper left corner of this picture. When I was there, it was about four feet, and very good. About ten minutes before I checked it, I was told it was always flat.

I once saw six foot plus waves rolling in for miles in a town called Sinop, in Turkey, on the Black Sea. Everyone I talked to said the waves were small, because the Black Sea is not an ocean .

In Guam, I watched in horror as unskilled Japanese surfers flailed around on a perfect deep water left, breaking in an inlet. The paddle was short, dry and easy. The payoff was a great left with a slopping take off. It got hollow for a short section inside, then it fizzled out in deep water. I tried to get the Japanese guys to lend me their boards. They always said yes, but wouldn't let go of their boards. That wave broke everyday for a week, and it was in walking distance from my hotel.

Same story in Okinawa. Waves everywhere, but not a drop for me.

What a glorious thing the internet is, you can get detailed maps and information about waves all over the world. I did not have the internet in 1991. I have tortured myself for hours looking at waves from places I have been, but never surfed.

When I arrived in Hawaii, the first Gulf War had started and the base was empty. We had ten days and no gigs. My best friend Kevin and I surfed everyday. To say the waves were epic, is an insult to the waves we rode.

I always spend more time thinking about the ones that got away, than the ones I caught. I'm funny that way.

W.B.Z.N.

Get That Red Lizard Off Me!

How in God's green earth is this stuff legal?
I'm off to more weird dreams. Let me kick start the humidifier. Thank God I got a flu shot!
w.b.z.n.

Greed

I have been riding quite a bit since August. Usually this means there is a race or event at the end of the rainbow. Not this time. This is about a period of time, when I was off the bike. I had cervical fusion neck surgery in April of last year. I couldn't exercise at all for four weeks. I spent the next six weeks on my stationary trainer. Ten weeks in, I was allowed to ride on the road. The second week of August, I was given the okay to ride in the woods. Before all this happened, I had the luxury of sitting in a recliner for eighteen days. Things like sleeping in bed, and not being awake at three in the morning, were out of reach. I thought about all the riding I missed when I was healthy. I made a promise to myself that wouldn't happen again.

Big Worm was my trainer for San Felasco this year, and we averaged six days a week. We rode in mud, light rain, whatever. We found ways to get the miles in. We had a few weeks of really bad weather and that made us adopt a new policy. If the sun was out, we were riding. You never know when the rain is coming.

I got a cold today. It's been coming on for a few days. Denial didn't stop the onset. I rode five days this week but, there were some lite days, and I took Tuesday and Friday off. My abusive inner monologue started in on me. I listened, for a time, then I remembered the recliner, Magnum P.I., Miami Vice, and the three a.m. T.V. schedule.

A little cold is not so bad. I had a good run of luck. I am going to try to settle in and enjoy the ride.

W.B. Zipper Neck

AHHHH!!! Doughnuts!!!

Big Worm has a training secret he would rather no one ever found out about. Last week he was seeing doughnuts everywhere. His dreams and waking hours were haunted by visions filled with cream, jelly and sprinkled with colors that only heaven could create. Like all visions of the night, the craving consumed him, and he caved to temptation. He added a slurpy, coffee, ice cream foamy to the twisted plan.

The transfomation was a painfull metamorphosis. The power of the pastry coursed though him, and the evil it possessed merged with the mortal. Try as he might to vomit forth the satanic blend, he could not. The grip of darkness was upon him and would not let him free. In the aftermath, he was more than human, more than doughnut, he was...... Evil Dough Man.

Last night I was the sad recipient of his wrath. I was lured out into the cold, black night. A small ride, with all the makings of a leasurely cruise, became the stuff of childhood nightmares. I watched in horror as he changed before me, ripped my leggs off, dipped them in a steaming cup of anguish, and ate them, not unlike the bear claws of his sick and demented dreams.

Cycling lowers it's head in defeat, as the Krispy Kream Empire raises it's demonic fist in victory.

W.B.Z.N.

Jishaaw!

That's the sound my Dad used to make when he sneezed. Judging from the look of my car, someone has put a yellow blanket on it or it is pollen season. Every year I forget, until the scurge is upon us. I am scrambling to get the Zirtec and Flownase. Poindexter and I will be hitting the inhaler for the next few months. Bloody Hell!

W.B.Z.N.