Archive for April, 2011

SS public SERFdom announcement

Posted in ery on April 29, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Voting for which unfit party will help create a new Champlain bridge, or tunnel or destroy a habitat wave(s), or makes new ones?

Safer on my bludgeoned 5’5” than any of their platforms.

Every vote counts, or maybe they won’t.

pidgin talk

Posted in ery on April 28, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

conversing with the birds at your local is:
a) an indicator of wave quality
b) a sign of depleting mental health
c) L’Anglais’ favorite pastime
d) not going help your cutback
e) ______________________

res ipsa loquitur

Posted in Current Events Class on April 27, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

paid in full

Posted in Current Events Class on April 17, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

now I learned to earn ‘cuz I’m righteous.”

It was only a matter of time before local goons turned pro. Jesus H. Christ, cutting ropes, hitting habitat during demonstration hour and moonlighting as urban spacemen warrants compensation.

It started with a crisp $50, then another, and another and another, until we were scouring the lot like cr*ck fiends.Monkey and L’Anglais each scooped 2 bills and thanks to L’Anglais’ kind heart, I became the fortunate recipient of one WLM King’er. Imagine this… Soon we’ll be able to afford river surf boards! Holding steady at ten point four and the forecast is only encouraging her.

the melt

Posted in Current Events Class on April 13, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

communicate marketing messages that create urgency

city pins to the eye of the storm

Posted in Trippin` on April 12, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Now about that other Eastern province that already has exposure overload, let me just confirm the existence of olas and no shortage of kine folk. A day of knee and hip slappers down South, followed by 3 days of healthy groundswell at more central latitudes was an adequate sample. Tidal comprehension is crucial and that goes hand-in-hand with patience and a good book. On the topic of claiming: I claim “Naval Architecture of Planing Hulls” by Lindsay Lord, “Plants, Man and Life” by Edgar Anderson, “Gator A-Go-Go” by Tim Dorsey and a 3rd reading of “We” by Yevgeny Zamyatin.

award tour

Posted in Trippin` on April 9, 2011 by SLUDGE SODA

Some make lemonade when life gives them lemons. I say go buy a nice chunk of filet mignon, capers, Spanish onion: mix in Tabasco, Worcestershire, parsley and a couple eggs and you got yourself a legit tartare de boeuf. A pickle and some frites maison on the side and your laughing.

Yes, I was planning Peru, but apparently having one’s board bag scanned, x-rayed and disassembled is decidedly more time consuming when done by union employees swiveling on popsicle sticks. With a 2 day wait for another flight and limited vacation time ticking away, Cuba became the default 1st week destination and it is was pretty swell. Arriving at the tail end of a cold front allowed for four days of body surfing and windsurfing and if my mind hadn’t been in such a funk, I definitely could have found places to surf as well. On a side note, D-504, our chauffeur was able to confirm there were no further revolutions planned; apparently FC’s was the last and the Integral is sailing along peachy keen.

Returning to home base, New England and other quick strike destinations were not really an option with the given forecast. However, the passing high pressure system did remind me of certain coast’s receptive to NW gale force winds: P muthaf*ckin EI and the Magdalen’s. My first and only trip to the Magdalen’s revealed infinite potential and I was lucky enough to body surf in perfect chest high peelers, but the cost to travel there is retarded. My first thought regarding surf in PEI is a phone call from Oli and Guy stating they just left Mtl and were going to chase a storm over yonder, without inviting myself nor Castillo. At least got to see the footy. The long range msw malfangled forecast hinted at a ripper of a Nor’easter forming after the PEI swell died down.

Gulf buoys revealed 5M swell with an 11 second period. Environment Canada had issued a small craft warning, NW winds subsiding to zero by Tuesday arvo and sunny skies mixed with flurries. Minimum consultation of coastal bathymetry and local deltas affirmed enough nooks and crannies to get lost in for a few days. Sufficient fetch, ample swell, fading wind, convoluted coastline, sunny skies – Brilliant!

Upon crossing the Confederation bridge, I realized there was one forecast I forgot to check: that of ice floes. The devilish $hit was everywhere I looked. Fortunately, when I reached Anne of Green Gables coastline, it was pretty much all gone, except in the darkest of coves. Day one was spent seeking protection from the still-blistering Nor’wester. It was found, but infinite shoaling made for less-than-punchy waves and the log was the first option. Travelling East, I found delicious reserves of beef jerky, amiable locals and a handful of first class setups. The sideshore was still a problem, but I located a pounding rivermouth left that offered a clean face and the occasional reform to the inside. 5 odd hours of solo surfing and no spectators – if a tree falls in the forest…

Drifter refuge was not a problem, as the entire coast was a ghost town, so Brackley was my initial campsite. It gets cold in a Japanese deathtrap, let me tell you, but I slept like a log. Day two kicked off with a skiff of fresh snow and no break from the wind. In no particular mood to charge the punchy beachie from yesterday, I toured East, just soaking up the sights and some fine Newfie porto. Upon finding a seal pup on one particular beach, I made contact with the first of droves of animated fishermen. They were all different, but all the same: each offered booze, food, advice, tall tales and reprimanded me for going surfing on that coast cuz they were certain “dat der undertow from the bigg tumblers ull suck ya rite out.” Generations of lost lives at sea tend to instill that logic, so I promised to carry on with extra caution.

When the sun finally did break, I found myself in ghetto Charlottetown. No surf here. Not much work either. There were some cannons, discarded needles and more animated locals, but I made my way back to the coast in anticipation of an afternoon of bliss. Yes, sometimes these things happen and I was greeted with calm winds and perpetually organizing swell. I set up camp in Cavendish and was able to enjoy an overhead bombie right to reform left and a small gathering of spectators. Someone thoughtfully called Search & Rescue: and on that point, could that be a dig to my style as being spastic? I dunno, just trying to channel some A Knost into my cutback, but I digress and daydream.

island encompassing potato fields is the last field observation.