Anyway, it's fun to think back and think about what got us all hear, and what that journey was for us. 

Couple random notes on those photos. The one of me surfing a tiny little right point in Mexico. That was probably 2004-2005. Can't remember, but a LONG time ago. My neighbor's brother had a trailer built up in this fishing village about 3 hours down into Baja. It had a chain link fence with a lock and a giant mural on a brick wall of a surfer with a giant red X over it. No surfing. Unless you live there. So whenever we would go down there, we were the only surfers. We were the only ones allowed in there. Anyway, there was a right point on the north tip, a slab A reef in the middle and then a quick left point on the south end. Like the rest of Baja, the right point worked the best and as you can see, it was maybe waist to chest high. That is the only photo my wife/girl at the time got of me surfing that day because there were these crazy, beautiful star fish. Bright blue. Bright pink. All over the reefs, so she was busy taking photos of that. Anyway, that day on that wave, probably the next wave actually, I got my only surfing head injury. Yes, on a day that small. So, I am going down the line and I crouch down into this tiny barrel. I am in it good, but I had to crouch as low as possible, locked in and just rode in this little tube over the reef and at the last moment, it closed out on my and slammed me down head first on the coral. and it held me there for a few seconds. Knocked the shit outta me. Probably concussed, because it spin cylced me and I went head over heels, full speed and couldnt get my arms down. I have a gash on my forehead to this day from that wave, on that day. And it is one of the tiniest tubes I have ever gotten...

The other quick story is of me standing in LA, at Venice in front of all that graffiti. I never used to go to LA, but my wife's youngest sister was in town, so we took a day trip. She was a little wanna-be thug at the time from Baltimore, so the whole way up, she was talking about Compton and shit. So, I drove her and my wife all over compton. Crenshaw. All the spots from Boys in the hood and what not. Being from Baltimore, I was trying to explain that CA ghettos are not ghettos. They are houses with yards, and palm trees and all that shit you see in the movies is bogus... And I will tell you, Compton was nice as shit.... We drove all over with no problems...

So then it comes time for surf. Venice is the closest spot, so I let the girls out at the beach, then go find a parking spot. So, I am a white kid, in a wetsuit and I am trotting down the street waiting for a crosswalk to get over to the beach, and these black dudes start yelling at me. I pay them no mind, but they continue, so finally I look over across the street and these dudes are all in blue, Crips obvioulsy, bandanas and the whole shit and they start throwing gang signs at me... And I put my arms up like, huh? What are you talking about... They are like, you can't be around here with that red 'Cuz... and all this shit... So then I get it, I have a half red, half blue board and I guess Venice is crip territory. We all kinda looked at each other and I am giving them a look like, really? Do I look like I am a gang banger... So they kinda laugh and I continued on to the beach...

But that board, on that day, got a whole group of crips mad at me. I was laughing my ass off. 

That blue and red board is also one that got stolen and ended up in an art piece and hangs above the entrance to the La Jolla Museum of art.... My buddy Micah, from Addict surfboards shaped that board for me for free. He would slide me some every now and again. He named it "Baby Talk"... Not sure why. It's an abstract American flag, but the funny thing is, on the back of the board, he made a stencil with the letters of his logo as a naked chick, sitting doggy style. And it was all over the bottom of the board. I wish I had a picture of that side of it. After it was stolen, the guy that shaped it actually found it in La Jolla at the museum and sent me a picture. He made me a duplicate of it, Baby Talk 2, which is still in my garage, but it was not the same. A little off. It just wasn't the magic stick that the Crip Killer was. 

That day in Jax was followed like a coupla days later by 33 footers at Belmar.  Nobody ever got outside that far.  Guesstimated.  I think pretty much everyone in NJ said it was all time.  

I don’t really care to publicly air my business but I’m 51, 5 years out from retirement in a high stress job that varies from tolerable to loathsome. But it allowed me to own a house on an island, own a truck, and be secure financially. Plus I can be at the beach in 20 minutes. when we moved I was 35 and surfed 3-4 times a week, and had a view of the town left point from the lanai of our rental. I surfed summer/winter, worked my way into the crew that surfed harbor lefts, explored the other breaks. Now 16 years later, I still try to surf 2-3 times a week, but age and family stuff eats up time. I don’t take off  on anything like I used to, like zach I had a close call one winter where I really wondered whether I would make it to shore. I like to keep expectations low, if I get a few keepers I’m pretty ok with that and no longer feel the need to stay out until my arms are limp. Have to remind myself that we are pretty lucky and not to step in the BS

We moved to the beach when I was 6, which was a pretty big culture shock coming from the city. My parents enrolled me in the (at the time) only private school where I was a complete outsider. Everyone in my class was from a very prestigious gated community and, looking back, I joke that we were the only family making a "right" out of school instead of a "left."

All the kids in my class wore surf brand clothing, so my parents started shopping at local surf shops; thinking it would help me fit in....but it only made things worse. I was a "poser." 

My parents enrolled me in a surf camp and I caught on pretty quickly. My great uncle was an absolute legend in the local surf scene and I just thought it ran in my DNA. 

Got my first board when I turned 7 and my dad made sure the ROI was there. He'd come home early from work and would take me to the beach. The days of rolling up in his old Montero and the smell of Bull Frog sunscreen will forever be etched in my mind. 

I surfed all the time. Every wave was always the "last one." I'd be out until dusk. Trying out new techniques - what worked, what didn't.

At the grocery store, I'd make a beeline to the magazine aisle to pick up the newest Surf Magazine. My mom would never buy it for me, so I had to soak up everything I could in ~30 minutes. And those Reef ads on page 2 😍 

Things at school were getting worse. I had no friends and was getting bullied on the reg. It sucked. 

In fifth grade, one of my classmates had his birthday party at his parent's beach house - a beautiful spot in the area's most desirable beach (my family was from the shit beach). 

Knowing all of my classmates were bringing their surfboards, I brought mine and absolutely put on a clinic. All the hard work paid off and the guys who spent the last two years calling me a "poser" had egg on their face. It was embarrassing for them. Right in front of everyone - chicks too!

Things didn't change at school and the following summer, I finally convinced my parents to transfer me to public school. I knew a lot of the kids already from the beach and from rec league baseball. It was a lifechanging experience for me. 

Aside from being with kids who I genuinely considered friends, I was in a group that lived at the beach. My beach. The shitty one. 

Our house quickly became the "hang out" spot and it was the rendezvous point for my friends for years. Just about every morning, a friend would be knocking on my bedroom window early in the morning for a dawn patrol session.  

We surfed nonstop no matter what the waves were looking like. It was just good to get out there and, if the waves sucked, you at least got a good paddle in. Not trying to self promote here, but I became a pretty good surfer without even knowing it and my entire life revolved around catching that next wave. 

Things really peaked for me when I got a job at a local surf shop in high school even though I was only getting paid $6/hour. I was surfing before work, teaching surf lessons at work, watching surf movies while working behind the counter, and then surfing after work. It was the tits. 

Ended up going to college in BFE nowhere Virginia, which was yet another culture shock in my life. Still drove back home for the big swells and spent all summer surfing + working at the surf shop. No matter how long it had been, I always felt like the break made me better. Just built up anticipation, I guess. 

Then, I picked up a girl from NYC. Convinced her to move down and we lived on the beach for years where I continued to surf just about every single day. Still surfed with my old friends, but also made some new ones; including one that I met on SI who eventually moved down from the north.....we've been working together for 13 years now. 

I'll never forget the evening when my wife showed me a house OTB (over the bridge). "We need a yard....a real yard.....for our child to play in." It was a surreal moment for me. We were having our first child (awesome), but my wife wanted a more traditional life.  

We bought the house and moved, but still kept our spot on the island where we spend most of our summers and some occasional weekends throughout the year. 

Unfortunately, in between work, being a good father, and keeping my head above water, my surfing time has significantly decreased. TBH I haven't surfed this entire year - mostly because we're doing a renovation down at the beach right now. It's the longest I've gone without surfing in 29 years and I miss it. 

Excited to be back here where I can rebuild my stoke for my next session. Hoping to get out there soon. 

Thanks for reading. Or not. 

Nice Shred. Did you grow up along the Carolina coast?

This is random, and not related to surfing at all.... But it's "somewhat" related. Anyway, my grandmother turned 100 back in early June. My Dad's side of the family, dating back to the 1860s were all from DC. Not Maryland, Not VA. The District. So, at her birthday party, one of my great uncles brought copies of this 100+ page book, that detailed our family, down to every person up until 2010. SO, 1960-2010. Where they immigrated from. When. Names. Birth places. Birth dates....

So, anyway, I learned that up until about the 1980s, everyone on my Dad's side of the family were born and raised in Washington D.C. Speicifically, North East, Capital Hill. My grandfather's house was on the 1200 block of Maryland Ave, about a mile from the whitehouse...

Anyway, after seeing all these D.C. addresses and what not, it was also clear that my entire side of that family was Law Enforcement. DC Metro police. Military. And then a bunch of FBI and Secret service gigs. 2 generations of my family were the lead in charge for the president and the whitehouse. The first happened back in the 40s, when Truman was VP, and when he took over as President, my great uncle moved from protecting the VP to protecting the president. Other great uncle was the director of the damn FBI.....

Anyway, as a kid, I grew up with Redskins season tickets. By the late 80s and early 90s, a lot of my DC relatives made their way out to Bethesda, and Patomac MD and what not....

Anyway, it was a really cool set of documents that was put together and it traced by entire family back to our roots, outside of Munich Germany, and from there, everyone settled in DC and because Secret Service, FBI and all of that....

At any rate, I remember my grandfather and Dad always saying shit like "Don't do anything stupid to tarnish our family name" kinda thing as a teenager and shit, and I was always like, whatever. My grandfather did some military oil shit, and was retired at age 50 before I was born. He scouted out oil properties in the middle east for the government back in the 60s and 70s, from what I gather...

Anyway, I had heard about my one uncle that saved the whitehouse on Christmas day and all that. I have shared that story with you guys on here, but I had no idea how deep it all was and how my entire family was pretty entrenched in the DC political/security/LE foundations. 

In the middle of the book, there was a headline, maybe in the late 1960's on the cover of the washington post. I thought it was an obituary, it read "Another "My_Last_Name" falls victim in the secret service ranks".... But then when you read the article, it was from Valentine's day and it was about how my other uncle just got engaged and how he had fallen victim to "cupid's arrow"...

Anyway, funny shit... But that side of my family always had a condo out in Ocean City Maryland, so really, that is what rooted my father and I to the surf, and to ocean city MD....

It was one of those weird moments in life, where you think, damn, had I known all of this, I may have taken another career path. Had I known what my particular last name meant in some prominent DC circles, I probably would never have acted like an asshole as a late teenager and shit, and I "may" have stayed around the DC area way longer than I did...

Anyway, this was just a part of my own history that I really didn't understand or realize. I have never done the 23 and me thing, but my wife had. But those kind of tests and what not are fun and all, but this was real data, about every single person related to me for the past 150 years.... They put a lot of work into it.... 

My Brother was born in PG county Maryland. My sister is adopted from South Korea, so at first, because I was born at one of the local hospitals there, my name showed up on one of the main pages. My siblings were like, this is bullshit, we aren't even in it... But when you get to the page where it starts with my father, we are all listed there. And I told my sister, for shits sake, you were born on the other side of the planet, and someone still went out of their way to track down the town you were born, and the hospital. Pretty wild.... I guess the FBI can do that pretty quick. 

Again, not really about surfing, but about my roots that I learned of not too long ago. And linked to the beach that I grew up going to. 

i can't add a topic apparently this morning, but I'm starting to scheme on a winter surf trip. Nicaragua has been on the list for a while. Got a buddy that just moved out to the Pacific side of Colombia, but heard you can score on Cartagena,caribbean side of thangs in the winter. Think i'll skip on Mexico this go-round. Panama might be another option, the Bocas del Toro area has been coming up lately. Never did hit Dominican's Encuentro but i'm not sure if i'd like it over there in the PM after waves blown out. I'm scrambling, but hopefully i'll fixate on somewhere soon enough

Unfurled. I have never been down to South America, but my buddy from Hilton Head Island goes all the time. He was in Panama two months ago, and he is currently in Nica right now. 

He was telling me that he went out to this spot alone for about an hour on a 6'1" shortboard and just kept getting hammered. Couldn't make it. The locals were telling him that bigger boards just can't make the angle on the drop and what not, but he paddled in and took out his 6'6" quad and said he proceeded to get shacked. All alone for another hour until the local crowd got there. 

He scored some really good shit in Panama too, but I have been impressed with all the shit he is scoring down in Nica right now... SICK. 

Here is a photo of him from Tuesday.... Byron is the surfer. Not sure who took the photo. 

At this point in my life, age 75, I have a real problem with motivation.  But it's not laziness because if no waves, every morning I go for a bike ride up the NH coast for about one hour. That coupled with real lack of waves around here in Cow Hampshire, and I tend to walk away.  There was supposed to be a 2 ft wave this morning ....flat.  Perhaps tomorrow.  

I feel like this is turning into more like a "Where are you currently at in your life journey that might involve a bit of surfing" thread.  I'm fine with that.  I've become comfortable not chasing surf as hard as I did 10 years ago.  Between having a wife who requires a lot of care taking, and being less motivated to get up in the dark and take a chance there will be something to surf, I definitely am getting less water time last 3 years since life really started spiraling.

I try to make up for lack of opportunity by focusing on quality sessions, maybe once a week, twice if I'm lucky.  I won't compromise taking care of Jerri to chase waves, and she is very good about figuring out ways for us to make it work for me to surf still 

We just mailed a check to our landlord in Florida to rent his house from December 25 - April 25.  I'm really looking forward to November and December.  As far as I'm concerned those are two of the absolute best months on Delmarva, then driving to Florida on Christmas to our winter home is going to be pretty epic.

Good stuff Mitchell, you're doing the right thing, and you're still scoring more than most, AND you're healthy bro, many blessings. I hope to surf with you when you return to FL. I'm chomping at bit thinking about solid waves and colder temps. This has been a loooong Summer stretch of small waves and HOT temps, with a couple decent days thrown in to keep us sane. 

As for my continued surf journey, I guess my goal now that I'm content is just to stay dedicated, get as many waves as possible, and get as good as possible, and enjoy every minute of it as much as possible, before I no longer can. I feel like I continue to progress, and that keeps me hungry. I've been really focusing on my diet and stuff so I can keep doing it as long as possible. I thank God every morning for giving me this life, for everything, and being able to do what I do. I never want to take it for granted.