It has been flat for awhile in DogLand, at least when I have the time to get to the beach. I've been working with the rubber band at home to stretch and work my upper body. Even though it helps, it is not the same as surfing.

So this morning at dawn I watched the scenery along Highway 1 scroll past the windows of my surfmobile. We are approaching the summer solstice; even at this early houe the ocean was light enough to see details. The main detail of interest was: NO FREAKING WAVES!

I pulled into the usual spot at Dave's Place; my wheels spit gravel as I pulled off the asphalt and onto the dirt shoulder. Sitting behind the steering wheel, watching the vast Lake of the Pacific, and listening to the last minutes of the overnight talk show on the AM band, I wondered what to do next.

Well, the hot coffee in my system had me alert and unable to return to slumber, and the ocean did have an occasional set of waves to offer. These sets came every four minutes, with three or five waves of a height that might reach my waist... when I crouch.

I prepared for wet, thinking I might just catch a meager ride or three. I waxed the blank spots on the deck of my board, then ambled through the sand and dead kelp along the shore to the tip of the craggy point.

Once in the water, you know what came next...NOTHING! I enjoyed the mood and environment for a spell, then fastened my gaze upon the next point to the north, roughly a half mile distant. I made up my mind, lay prone on my board, and stroked across the bay for it.

For some amusement, I timed my paddle and counted my strokes. Seems the interval of a second is intrinsic to human beings; it required 15 minutes and 450 paddles to reach the destination. That figures to be one stroke (both left and right arms) every two seconds.

The way north was into the wind and against the prevailing wind swell. The return paddle, going down wind and down swell, only needed 350 paddles and lasted a few minutes less. By now the parking places were filling with the vehicles of the usual crew, none of whom were in any hurry to join me in the water.

By the time I came ashore my arms ached from exertion, but I felt better for it. The guys watching me were impressed at my grand tour, so I told them "I have a dream that one day there will be waves, and I'll be ready to paddle into them." One of the other surfers said "Yeah, but you won't be able to stand up!"

So we swapped lies and pleasantries awhile, then I snapped a photo of the flat ocean. For contrast, I turned the camera the other way and shot a few looking inland, into the hills on the other side of the highway.

There's no actual wave or surf shots in this column, but you can see and appreciate how beautiful and bucolic the area in and around DogLand is. Maybe next time there might be some actual surfing to show.

CU Out There,

DogMan