Made it. Yay. The speedometer read 187,398 when I pulled up in front of the apartment.

So do the math: 187,398 – 185,531 = 1867 miles since I left here lo those many days ago.

I have mail: A package from Runman with the Trilogy. Time to have a Runman party.

A registered letter from the IRS. Always a welcome site. I doubt it’s a Christmas card.

A bill from my tax guy.

Christmas cards from Alison Cutler, Gene Rink and Robin Griffith – wife of the tax guy.

A check for $40 from the Malibu Times.

A long awaited check for $250 from the English.

In the last half an hour I came close to running out of gas when the low fuel light went on around County Line.

But that means the Red Car gets 20+ MPG and that’s good.

As I was stressing about running out of gas I saw three of those squid boats all lit up like Christmas trees, but apparently there were 50 of them a few weeks ago.

At some point today I found out I played the wrong Lotto numbers last night, but I did not blow it as my regular numbers did not come up.

Tonight, five of the numbers were all below 27, which means they all represented letters which means any of the names I regularly play could have won.

But the numbers were 8, 19, 20, 21, 41 and 3 and when you convert those to letters they are H, R, S, T and C..

So Lucy R didn’t win nor did many of the name/numbers I play but what name would have won.

Aw…. CHRIST!

That figures. Play the big man’s name a day after his birthday and it would have been 4 plus the bonus number = $1784

Which was just about my mileage on this trip. Weird.

I got home about 20 minutes ago and loaded the SUP into the van and parked the Red Car directly behind the van, so the only way to steal the SUP is to break the windshield.

Lynn carried a lot of my stuff up the stairs, because I am too disabled to get all of it.

Driving back through the Central Coast I was thinking of donating the van to Chris Malloy and the ranch he lives on.

If they kept it just on the ranch they wouldn’t have to worry about registering it or that pesky smog check that always goes with it.

Maybe they could use it to haul hay and keep it dry and let the animals eat directly from the van.

I was thinking about cattle and ranches because earlier today the first leg of the journey home went from Santa Cruz through Watsonville to San Juan Batista and Hollister to Highway 25. This is a beautiful, lost highway that runs through the Bear Valley on the east side of the Gabilan Mountains. The road is also cal;ed the Airline Highway or the Bolsa Road and it’s just beautiful: small cattle ranches in the valley which seems to have been formed by the San Andreas Fault.

I hadn’t done it in a while and always rave about it. I wanted to see if I should believe my own hype, and I should.

I drove it all the way from Hollister to 198 and then turned east and came back to the 101 at San Lucas.

I remembered from a previous trip seeing a ranch road marked with a tire and the words “Nyswonger.”

I know a guy named Jeff Nighswonger and I was hoping to get a photo of that tire if it was still there.

It was, because I don’t think those ranches change hands much.

Today I had breakfast at Paula’s and chatted with Russel for a while and then was joined by Nikki Brooks and then Jill and then Jason “Ratboy” Collins.

Turns out Ratboy is a decent chap indeed, and every inch a fishing fool. This was our second breakfast and all we talked about was trout and steelhead and sharks.

When I was learning to surf at Cowell’s Beach lo those many years ago, one of the experienced surfers who influenced us was a guy we called “Snider Noserider.”

His real name was Jay Collins and he was Jason’s dad. But some time in the 1980s I think he died of a heart attack right on the beach.

Odd for such a mellow guy, but no surprise Jason is a good surfer

And a good guy. If we go to Da Bull’s house to fish for steelhead on the Smith, Jason is down for the trip, as is his wife/girlfriend (?) Jill.

She grew up around the Trinity River and knows what is happening.

So breakfast at Paula’s despite the fact that I wrecked my back the day before and could barely walk.

On Christmas Day I woke up in Half Moon Bay after sleeping on a bed made for a 10 year old kid.

I distributed some half-hearted presents and then hit the road because I knew the swell was coming up.

On the way down Pescadero and Don’t Eat Us (Tunitas) Creek were firing. It was just big enough but not too big, and the offshores were blowing and I saw a right at the north end of Pescadero that was just perfect, reeling for more than 100 yards and needing a Kelly Slater to make it.

No one surfing anywhere up there, maybe because it was Christmas morning, maybe because it was cold and maybe because it’s soooo sharky.

I made it to Santa Cruz and geared up and went to Cowell’s first. I had SUPped out around Cowell’s the previous two days but there had been no surf and the tide was too high. Yesterday morning the tide was still high and I didn’t have change for the expensive parking meters and there were a bunch of hooligans hanging around the parking lot, so I headed for Pleasure Point instead.

I got the spot just north of the O’Neill house and gave some DVD to a guy whose name I couldn’t remember.

Several years ago I saw the guy get into a big fight at Moss Landing – standing up to the local rogues – and I was still proud of him.

His name is Kevin Miske and I gave him some DVD which he said he would watch.

My back was starting to act up as I put on all my gear, including the new rash guard and wetsuit I bought from O’Neill’s on Christmas eve day.

There wasn’t much surf and the tide was about medium and it looked very kelpy.

Seemed like it took forever to get ready. I stuck one backup key in the zipper pocket in the O’Neill spring suit I bought, and another backup in my trunks pocket.

I carried the SUP down a new set of steps I hadn’t seen before. Pleasure Point is being reinforced with concrete and rip rap all along the point, because the ocean is eating it away.

I pushed off the beach and stood up and it was too kelpy to surf 38th Ave/Insides.

I’d heard that Privates was the place to SUP so I headed east. It felt good to be paddling around and reconnecting with a place where I spent many many many hours surfing when I was younger.

I passed through a the hook and there were two guys surfing Shark’s Cove, but it was all thick with kelp.

There was one guy at Privates and I fell when some kelp tripped me. I caught a couple of waves and then what I thought was a jellyfish turned out to be a red Santa hat.

So I put that on and paddled back through the Hook, explaining to everyone I had found the hat at Privates.

I paddled up to Pleasure Point and spent an hour or so cruising around First Peak and Second Peak.

These are places I grew up surfing every day, but I hadn’t been there in at least 10 years.

I looked for familiar faces but didn’t see anyone I knew.

The waves were fun but it was crowded with a lot of beginners and I didn’t want to get in the way so I just paddled around and watched and explained to everyone that I had found the Santa hat at Privates.

I could feel my back acting up the whole time and had a feeling I was going to be in trouble when I got out.

I paddled back to 38th and a guy there complimented me on my Santa hat.

I told him I had found it at Privates and he said he had lost his Santa hat at the Hook a few hours before.

We discovered I had his Santa hat so I gave it back.

I made it up to the car and by the time I got the SUP on the roof my back was spasming and I figured that was that.

My back has been great with zero pain since I started SUPping and now that pain was back.

I knew it was temporary and it reminded me how glad I am that the permanent pain is gone.

I lived with that for 15+ years but SUP got rid of it.

So the last two days have been rough, but I am back sleeping in my own bed, and won’t be driving so that should fix it.

So I should sum up everything that happened since my last blog, but I don’t remember my last blog.

(Right now I am chatting with the girl in Pakistan who I send money to to help with school. The neighbors downstairs are arguing and I always expect to hear gunshots because the arguments are so loud)

Okay the last blog was December 21 at my dad’s after driving from Placerville to Half Moon Bay and getting the extra key at Toyota of Marin.

Here is a synopsis of what happened:

Stayed at dad’s the night of the 21st. Gave him the Clark Little book, which he liked.

The next morning we went for breakfast at the airport on a clear, cold day.

I had salmon and eggs and it was good.

That day I was hoping to go into San Francisco and see Matt Warshaw and/or Bmac, but they weren’t around so I headed for Santa Cruz.

Drove around, got my mail, tried to find Randy French, went to talk with Rich Novak at NHS.

The last few times I ahd been there he had told me I looked like shit, and I don’t think I do anymore and he would be the test.

He said I looked better. I do look better. We sat in his kitchen/office and talked and I strongly suggested he get on a SUP if he wanted to fix his back.

I slept on Danny D’s sofa that night after going to the Crow’s Nest. I think the woman walking around there was Michelle Poen, an ex-girlfriend.

The song “Seasons in the Sun” reminds me of her but I believe she is of an alternate lifestyle now.

The next morning I went to Paula’s Cafe and met Nikki Brooks there.

I owed her $50 for photos used on Wetsand. She invited Jason Collins and his wahine Jill because Nikki wants me to do a profile on Jason in The Surfer’s Journal and I said I didn’t know him that well.

So we got acquainted and talked about fishing, which is also what I talked about with Scott Bedell when I came into town on the 21st.

Scott is a fly fishing fool and he is all hot on the Owhwyhee River in Oregon.

And yes. Owyhee is the original name for Hawaii. The story behind the river is pretty interesting, as taken from Wikipedia:
The name of the river is from the older spelling of “Hawaii”. It was named for three Hawaiian trappers, in the employ of the North West Company, who were sent to explore the uncharted river. They failed to return to the rendezvous near the Boise River and were never seen again. Due to this the river and its region was named “Owyhee”.^[1] About one-third of the men with Donald MacKenzie’s Snake Country Expeditions of 1819-20 were Hawaiians, commonly called “Kanakas” or “Sandwich Islanders” in those days, with “Owyhee” being a standard period spelling of the proper Hawaiian language name for the islands, hawai’i, which then was otherwise unused in English. The three Kanakas were detached to trap on the river in 1819 and were probably killed by Indians that year. It was not until the spring or early summer of 1820 that MacKenzie learned the news of their deaths (probably at the hands of men belonging to a band of Bannocks led by a chief named The Horse). Indians led other trappers to the site, but only one skeleton was located. The earliest surviving record of the name is found on a map dating to 1825, drawn by William Kittson (who was previously with Donald MacKenzie in 1819-1820, and then with Peter Skene Ogden in 1825), on which he notes “Owhyhee River” [sic]. Journal entries in 1826 by Peter Skene Ogden, a fur trapper who led subsequent Snake Country Expeditions for the Hudson’s Bay Company refer to the river primarily as the “Sandwich Island River”, but also as “S.I. River”, “River Owyhee” and “Owyhee River.”^[8]

Sorry I digressed. Where was I? Okay on the morning of the 22nd I had breakfast with Ratboy and his wahine and Nikki Brooks. On that day I took the SUP off the beach at Cowells and paddled out to Steamer Lane. There wasn’t much surf and the tide was high so I just cruised through the kelp and got a feel for it up there. This was a beautiful day when the Bay was crystal clear and the valleys of Monterey were in high detail.

I love Santa Cruz in the winter, and this was a classic clear, cold, blue winter day.

I had only 1:30 in the parking meter and I was worried about ripoffs for some reason so I paddled out and came back and on the way back an albino sea lion swam under me and scared the bejeezus out of me. I have too many shark stories in my head.

I’m getting tired and need to finish this up.

I spent the 22nd in Santa Cruz I guess and also the 23rd because I SUPped Steamer Lane two days.

I never connected with Randy French but left him a present and thanked him for the deals he gave me on SUP.

I was in Santa Cruz on the 24th and drove to my dad’s that night to spend Christmas Eve with pops and Cherie and Gabriel.

Drove back to Santa Cruz on Christmas Day and that is when my back went out.

Today I had breakfast at Paula’s then went to Dannys and packed.

Did Highway 25 then got on 101.

I stopped and saw Terry Brown briefly in Los Osos but they were watching Inlgorious Besterds and I wanted to get home.

I stopped briefly in Santa Maria to leave one of the CostCo posters on the front porch of a person I only know through emails.

She must think I’m really weird now, but I knocked and no one answered and she was probably enthralled by the Lakers.

But my back was out and I was walking crooked and needed a shower and first impressions are important.

So that’s that. I need to download all the photos I took today but that is a jumbled thumbnail of what happend the last few days.

Time to get my aching back into bed, but it’s good to be home.