North Shore: Day Three

Dateline: North Shore Day Three

In Pursuit of the Monkey’s Lunch.


This place is a trap. Coming from the mainland and the “new pace” of lifers, this place appears on the horizon like a sacred stop. This place will be where I can slow down, relax, really focus, and get to a lot of those little things like peace, quiet time and lethargy.
It never happens. From seven to eleven there is a schedule, things to do, places to go and light to check.
Standing on the balcony at seven. The trades have dropped, the sky promises sun, but by eight the wind has picked up. The swell is smaller, cleaner and several people, the first I have seen since I’ve been here, paddle out next to the hotel.
Several members of the crew leave tomorrow, which means they will come and go without seeing any of the Pipeline contest. The plan is to head out today, midday, just to hit Rocky Point, Backdoor, or anywhere with any kind of swell, just to give them a taste.
Bernie tells me last night that things aren’t looking great weather wise, but perhaps in a day or two we will be surprised.
Last night’s program, Digital Railroad, played well, to a packed house, with two more programs on tap for this afternoon and evening. A special session has been called due to the U2 concert in town tonight. Many folks are ready to brave the world’s worst traffic to head in and see both Bono and Vedder.
Yesterday, coming from Honolulu, the typical 45-minute drive was taking 3.5 hours. Some took longer.
“I was ready to shoot someone,” one driver said. “I’m ready to kill.”
There is only one road in and out, and this was WITHOUT any contest going on. I think I’ll stay on the Northside and just wait for it all to begin. The pool bar is only ten steps away. No need to rush anything.

To really get anything done here I need at least four hours of uninterrupted time alone. The only real way to work as a photographer, writer, or gatherer of any kind is to travel and work alone. You don’t see CIA agents bringing the old family along to the Khyber Pass Hilton. Nope, they go alone. You must remain a stranger. If you know anyone your doomed. If your family tags alone, doomed. If there is a schedule of any kind, doomed. I don’t know how the “real” people do it.
I’ve got baggage, human baggage of all kinds, plus, far too many strings attached back to the mainland. Brother calling at 6am, sister leaving messages, mom calling, clients asking about this or that. I’m contemplating smashing all electronics within the confines of my room, but then I couldn’t’ write this useless crap.