I don't know these kids but clearly their father is a solid dude.

Only a GOOD DAD would make up a video like this.

Beastie Boys, Gratitude 

It's Thanksgiving and I've a lot to be grateful for.

 I've got a little money and more on the way.  If I play my cards right I won't be waiting tables or washing dishes this winter.

Then again, maybe I will.  Service work is a good reminder.  And every dollar is going towards my next adventure.... maybe a big boat... maybe a very small boat.  You know the saying:

There's nothing . . .
absolutely nothing . . .
half so much worth doing as simply messing around in boats.

-Wind in the Willows

Manana I'm sailing four Swedes and two Canadians from San Juan to Playa Gigante.  I'll also have another Canadian kiting alongside the boat for the 12 mile DOWNWINDER from there to here.

And I've got another two kiters coming to town tomorrow.

I might have to revive the old logo from Baja for the next two weeks.  Thanks again, Modena!

Speaking of which, I'm thankful that business fell apart and that I get to cruise like this...

...cuz this shit just isn't my style...

Thanks is due to the kiters in and around La Ventana, Baja for all their support. 

I've got good friends from JXN visiting me right now, AND they're able to help me bring most of my climbing and kiting gear back to the J Hole.  Thanks Leif and Nichole!

With their help I should be able to fly Maestra home.  If she takes to the cold she'll be one hell of a ski buddy.  Thanks, Maestra!

My parents got me the plane ticket home and they'll be putting me up for my first week back Stateside.  They've even offered to let me live at their cabin in Wisconsin all winter, a great offer I have to decline.
  Thanks for all this, Mom and Dad, and thanks again for your infinite capacity to give me the benefit of the doubt.

I've got an offer on the table to buy the Sin Fin and I'll probably take it.  It'll be great to no longer be married to the boat.  Thanks John Wyss!

The new owner will need a captain and, lo and behold, who's right here?  Me.

I will graciously decline the job offer because though I'm grateful to be a member of the Playa Gigante community, I could use a little surf vacation... followed by a little ski vacation... followed by...

Thanks Dale.

Thanks Kass.

Thanks to all the folks who came into my life in the last 15 months and shared one hell of a trip with me.  You know who you are.

Thanks to all the folks who've offered their couches when I get back to JXN.  See you soon.

You know what yer supposed to reply when someone tells you GRACIAS?


Of Nothing.


Of Nothing to Nothing.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

So hey God, Thanks for LIFE,..
...it's better than NOTHING.

Trust yourself on this one.

Which brings us to our lyric of the day.

Thanks for reading.

Take it Easy.

Your Friend,



Lyric of the Month

I don't know how the hell I remembered all the lyrics...

...and it admittedly appears über-lame but...

I've been serenading my clients with overdramatic punk opera versions of this... hooting it while scrambling the Giant's Foot... and otherwise bopping through to it.  It's actually a pretty fucking great song.


Well I guess it would be nice
If I could touch your body
I know not everybody
Has got a body like you

But I've got to think twice
Before I give my heart away
And I know all the games you play
Because I play them too

Oh but I
Need some time off from that emotion
Time to pick my heart up off the floor
And when that love comes down
Without devotion
Well it takes a strong man baby
But I'm showing you the door

'Cause I gotta have faith...

I know you're asking me to stay
Say please, please, please, don't go away
You say I'm giving you the blues
You mean every word you say
Can't help but think of yesterday
And another who tied me down to loverboy rules

Before this river
Becomes an ocean
Before you throw my heart back on the floor
Oh baby I reconsider
My foolish notion
Well I need someone to hold me
But I'll wait for something more

Yes I've gotta have faith...

-George Michael



 Hey All,
A buddy sent me this link.
Read it and laugh...



British Acid Meets Cerro Fitz In A Windswept Sunset

I happened across the remains of Western civilization atop a hill called
"El Rosado".
Now that's a nice Western name,
but its as far from home as I´d ever care to go.

A prettier view you will not find.

And for the first time in my life
I truly understood what it is to be a man,
and to be free.

And what an honor it is.

And what respect is due
to those who set me up free.

And all I have to say is,
that being led down by a bunch of
fancy-car drivin',
makes me want to spit.

I can´t spit enough, or cry.

It makes me want to ride a horse.


Airing Out Insomnia

I've never had trouble sleeping before lately...

It's 3:32 a.m. right now and I'm powerless but to set some things down.

I've had a few people encouraging me to "lock it up".  Hell no.

No, I'm not DRUNK... nor (very) HIGH.

This old Viaje is finally sinking in.

Maybe I'm actually learning something.  Very slowly.

It is my sincere hope that some of these little thoughts, when read, ping around yer brain just right and yer off better off for it.

Maybe you're laughing.

Maybe you're crying.

Maybe just the slightest little curiosity has been fulfilled



Lyric of the Night

GRAND FUNK RAILROAD, Sin's a Good Man's Brother

Ain't seen a night,
things work out right,
go by.

Things on my mind,
and I just don't have the time,
and it don't seem right.

Ain't seen a day,
that I don't hear people say,
they know they're gonna' die.

This may seem a little bit crazy,
but I don't think you should be so lazy.

If you think you've heard this before,
well, stick around I'm gonna' tell you more.

One just like the other,
sin's a good man's brother,
but is that right?

You tell me that I don't,
then I say I won't,
but then I might.

You said this is the way it's supposed to be,
but it just don't seem right to me,
and that's outta' sight.

Some folks need an education,
don't give up,
or we'll lose the nation.

You say we need a revolution?
It seems to be the only solution.


The only problem with doing whatever you want whenever you want is that sometimes you can't.  I've gotten so used to having it my way that I've spoiled myself rotten.

Life's been too good for too long, and I was due.


All these outdoorsy sports I've taken to heart are essentially the same.  Skiing.  Climbing.  Kiting.  Sailing.  Surfing.

The point of them is to exist completely in the moment exhibiting power, confidence, and grace in an ever-changing, occasionally dangerous environment.

Ideally, one takes that power, confidence, and grace and applies it to the ever-changing, occasionally dangerous environment called REAL LIFE.

Easier said than done.  I think I've met maybe two people who actually had REAL LIFE figured out.


There's a huge cock rock poised at the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge.  For propriety's sake they call it "Rooster Rock" instead of "Cock Rock".

Rooster Rock State Park, about 20 miles outside Portland, is a nudist hang out and the whole vibe there is pretty pervy.

I've been there a handful of times because it's a great kiteboarding spot on Easterly winds.  Based on cars in the parking lot, I'd say on a weekend day there are at least 300 naked people doing their thing in the woods surrounding Rooster Rock.

The public bathroom there is the kind of place where you don't want to touch anything.  It exudes a creepy aura of raunch.  The place is significant to me because I encountered a perfectly frank bit of graffiti there, which I've also taken to heart:


While I'm more a slave to love than a sex addict, the essential truth still applies.

Looking back, I see a decade of searching for validity with love after love.  I see long spells of comfort, a few trips to hell, and a million little glimpses of happiness.

Live and learn, right?

At least I'm not a slave to the almighty dollar.


Then again...

I've become a greedy little bastard the few times when I started making too much money.

I think most people suffer from the same thing.


I've brooded on whatever great irony is looming for far too long.

It's time to move on to greener mental pastures because the whole apocalypse preparatory thing has hit the mainstream.  I'd prefer to stay at least one step ahead of the masses.

Anyway, there's nothing more to say, just a lot of shit to do.

I find myself re-perusing the "doomer" websites like this.

These guys are making a killing off of fear.


If I had $100,000 I'd fly to California and buy a big old boat.

I'd stockpile enough freeze dried food on her for a couple years.  Lots of fishing gear.  Extras of everything.

Then I'd sail it right back to Gigante and keep doing what I'm doing, but with an eye always to the horizon.

I'd buy a little plot from Dale, dig a well, set up a windmill, and plant a bunch of mango an banana trees.  Throw up a little shack.  Raise chickens and pigs in the yard.  Ride a fucking horse down the beach with my surfboard strapped to the saddle.

If shit went dangerously awry in Central America I'd swim to the boat, drop the mooring and point her straight out to sea.

Find myself an island where they don't know the world's ending and that whitey's to blame.  Fuck, find myself an island with nobody on it.  And wait it out.

Anyone got an extra $100,000 lying around?  You can come with.

I'll do 85% of the shit work.



The List of Good Things...

This little trip down memory lane has been doing the trick...
jarring me out of my funk...
showing me my current drama isn't so bad...
reminding me that life is good...
gratitude, essential.

Here's an oldie but a goodie.  I may as well start at a beginning.

After graduating from college I stuck around Minnesota's SJU for a 5th year to knock off medical prerequisites and study for the MCAT.  I was also working full time as a nurse's assistant in the St. John's Abbey Retirement Center.  Here I realized I don't have the compassion to be a good health care provider.  I made a lot of beds, cleaned up a lot of shit, and fucked up my lower back royally.

I also fucked up my peace of mind by aquiring perpetual "double secret probation" with Dean Laker, a douchebag administrator who sought a high profile dipshit to make an example of.  I proved myself a high profile dipshit in the first week of the school year and remained on the verge of expulsion until April 28th, the day after my birthday, 2004.

I also fucked up my social life by falling for a beautiful young lady whom a fair weather friend had staked a claim on.  Accusations flew.  Factions assembled.  "Minnesota Nice" showed it's passive-aggressive fangs.  I went from being a Big Man On Campus to a paranoid outcast banished to a frigid shack aptly named the CRACKHOUSE.

No, I didn't smoke crack.  I did, however, drink a hell of a lot of Miller High Life.

Many a lonely night I ended up talking to the girl on the moon.

Long story short...

I shouldn't have been there, but I'm slow, so I was, and I learned a lot.

I did two things remotely redeeming that year.

1)  I helped out a friend in serious need.

2) I bought a 15 passenger van from a bunch of Nuns for twenty two hundred dollars.


Side note:  I don't know why, since I'll never own a car again, but I take an obscene amount of pride in having never spent more than $3000 on a car.

Yeah, I bought a van.  I had hopes of gutting it into a ghetto-fabulous-molester Camper complete with christmas lights and a blender.  A fucking blender was a must.

The Naughty Van was born.  It lived only a few months until it got rolled.  We weren't partying.  I had just skied a 24 hour nordic ski race with my Dad and took a nap.

Long story short, in that van's short life it made some trips and on those trips some memories were made.  One day, with a bunch of hung over second string cross country runners aboard, it made real magic and the following list was born.

I read all the way through it today but recommend you just skim.

Some Good Things Are…
*A List Compiled by the Occupants of the Naughty Van during the Surprisingly Pleasant Return Trip from the District XC Meet in Grinnell, Iowa on November 16, in the year of our Lord, 2003*
*Scribed by Sarah Litchy, Ashley Bean, and at least one other girl with really good handwriting*
*Digitized through the intense labors of Max Mogren*

…when time goes slow, long talks, getting in trouble and not caring, procrastinating, the Breakfast Club, purposefulness, hot chocolate with Baileys, scratching an itch, hugs, snuggling, new snow men, snowball fights, snow forts, ice skating, new socks, road trips, teddy bears, naps, long runs, Canada, tacos, hot showers, salsa, baths, pizza, kisses, camp fires, s’mores, first beer in a case, indoor fires, Sunday Reef brunch, Christmas cartoons, memories, BIGFOOT, Johnny CC hats, music, dancing, beer, free things, rum and Coke, old bikes, warm beds, spooning, e-mails from girls, mail, grade school, creativity, 8 feet of snow, fresh snowfall, seeing an old friend, IMing, clean sheets, ocean beaches, jumping into cold water, girls, guys, Jaimey Remey, end of a hard race, bell lap, fall, winter, summer, spring, falling dreams, midnight, finishing a paper, getting an A on a paper, watching people sleep, fat babies, when babies or dogs like you, turkey drumsticks, sex ed, skinny dipping, brushing your teeth, good movies with friends, skiing, water skiing, tipping a canoe, catching a fish, reading a good book, when the priest says “The Mass Has Ended” and you reply “Thanks be go God!”, footsie with Sarah Litchey, golf carts, a date, new car smell, gasoline, home, good home smell, Christmas music, the scent of pine, Tampico, Tang, milk, cereal, water after a run, not eating too much, skipping class, goofy grins, laughing, cookie dough, hiccups, a good cry, baseball caps, clean underwear, your favorite pair of jeans, sleeping nude, old people, seeing through systems, flirting, snow days, comfy chairs, new school clothes, new running shoes, wrestling with dogs, good CDs, cheeseburgers, blueberry milkshakes, stars, the moon reflecting on the water, roommates, meeting interesting people, the WARPIG, the NAUGHTY VAN, finding someone with one degree of separation, haunted houses, themed parties, CC parties, scary movies, green lights, spitting, running through sprinklers on a run, camping, sleepovers, snuggle buddies, mass e-mails, Bo Diddley’s, the Reef, Jason Stoffel, weddings, water colors, crayons, art, painting, Bingo, chess, dancing with Grandma, climbing, traveling, baking, cooking with Grandma, sailing, flying, sand boxes, living with friends, sand castles, A1 sauce, seasoned salt, salt, singing, walking in the woods, the colors of leaves, firecrackers, fireworks, parades, going grocery shopping, wind at your back, asking rhetorical questions, having class cancelled, comics, classes with no final, rolling down hill, talent shows, school assemblies, streaking, riding bikes, playing tennis when you don’t know how to play tennis, sitting in the sun, basketball, late night talks with your roomie, finding $ you didn’t know you had, inside jokes, cookies from Grandma, nicknames, playing with clay/playdough, wrestling, getting punched in the face when it doesn’t hurt, seeing someone get kicked in the crotch/slip and fall/etc, farting, giving a good gift, languages, expressing yourself, getting something off your chest, making out, making out for a LONG TIME, making out in a random place, phone calls from girls, getting a good haircut, long hair, pretty hair, soft & shiny hair, wind blown hair, freshly showered boys, comforting touch, jello jigglers, jello shots, whacking your friend in the nuts, showering in the Palaestra, 1st time getting drunk, 1st time getting stoned, Miller High Life Lite, cold 7UP the morning after drinking, falling down and just laying there, messing around at the movie theater, holding hands until they’re sweaty, crushes, old cemeteries, castles, exploring old buildings, doing random things, Ferris wheels, carousels, watching animals have sex, cooking over a fire, climbing into your sleeping bag, when a dog humps someone else’s leg, Christmas lights, the EVIL TREE, street dances, dancing dirty, painting your room, hanging a poster, pull ups, being young, driving, not caring about money, heartache’s existence (though not when it hits you), nostalgia, stories, old school Nintendo (aka No-Friend-O), knowing people are listening, tents, free books, the feeling you get while reading the last page of a good book, peeing after going for a really long time, releases in general, power outages, free digital music services, MP3s, cloud watching, thunderstorms, maple long johns, meteor showers, playing in the rain, full moons, obstacle courses, sleeping on pole vault pits, being amazed, winning a race, beating guys in a race, crying, considerate people, good waitresses/waiters, when people are excited to see you, home, big families, dryer sheets, having a good smelling room, ice fishing, sledding at night, Bozeman Montana, Glacier NP, mountains, redwoods, old oak trees, willow trees, throwing rocks at moving trains and stuff that breaks, waking up to a day when you don’t have to do anything, dreaming, waking up and not knowing where you are, apologizing, good quotes, reception sandwiches, champagne, French, cheese and baguettes, crispy apples, dinosaurs, Granny Smith apples, Kenny G, Yanni, caramel apples, drinking in a moving vehicle, yawning, freshman year, steamrolling, moving water, stretching, getting dressed up, old T shirts, flip flops, sweatpants, roughing it, canoeing, hiding your boner in middle school (and whenever), camping, vibration, Bobby Darin, Bobby Dylan, going home, getting your 1st pocket knife, lighting a match, the smell of cut grass, the city at night, jumping, organized crime, being in the newspaper for something good, practical jokes, taking off sweaty clothes, thrift shops, having people sign your cast, carving your name somewhere, getting your cast off, care packages, seeing someone singing in another car, rocking out in your car, cheerful nuns, teams, winning, clubs, bullshitting, bowling, ping pong, flamingos, taking pictures of passed out people, writing on passed out people, swinging, volunteering, waking up with your girlfriend, sleeping with girls, nature documentaries, Disney songs, oldies, dancing in random places, streaking, college basketball games, dodge ball, 409, rushing the field, voting, tearing down a goal post, the first time for everything, meeting someone new, stripes, Red Bull, caffeine, cowboy shirts, naked babies, watching a birth, secrets, teaching kids, white lies, watching cousins grow up, winning the lottery, the sight of Max spraining his ankle, liberal priests, singing at mass, change, weird coins, planning a trip, floating on something, passing an eye exam, siblings, Stevie Wonder, jazz, Halloween, when bad things happen to bad people, when two people are a perfect match, no parents, parents, tree houses, forts, climbing trees, snowboarding, wearing shoes without socks, drum solos, guitar solos, hand gestures, being voted something, being liked, sharing, realizing you’re fun, getting out of a traffic ticket, driving really fast, the zoo, blizzards, museums, Bill Clinton’s cigar incident, living in the USA, being lucky, having choices, not wearing a bra, random cafes, airdrying, clearing your sinuses, good luck notes, cheese, peanut butter, stretching, nutella, ants on a log, cuss words, sayings that don’t make sense, Minnesota accents, accents, drinking with your parents, caves, snorkeling, diving off a boat, bellyflop contests, cow tipping, male posturing (ie, guys trying to one up one another), cliffs, not having a cell phone, having a cell phone when you need one, getting lost, getting out of the car, waking up early and being productive, flying a kite, huge fires, throwing things in the fire, ghost stories, fish, kissing your mom, hugging your dad, walking out of the classroom after acing your last final, going home for Christmas, getting accepted at colleges, scholarships, the feeling of having a whole summer ahead of you, personalities, mannerisms, people watching, mini donuts, lakes, road races, scary stories, clean windshields, scary movies, fun hats, wigs, novelty socks, stealing worthless crap, pumping gas, guys grabbing their crotches whilst dancing, air conditioning, being satisfied with a race, heated floors, being sore after a race, hot tubs, holding hands, whipped cream, food fights, playing with food, playing with fire, water fights, the 4th of July, shivers from the National Anthem, Mt. Dew, reading Cosmo, guys taking Cosmo quizzes, sneaking boys into your dorm, COLLEGE, BBQs, tailgating, Paul Simon, the Black Crowes, taxis, winning something silly, theater, skipping stones, waterfalls, showering in waterfalls, Duluth, Grandma’s Marathon parties, the BRETT jacket, mysteries, good coaches, squirrels, Tim Miles, working for Tim, manual labor, knight movies, fairy tales, good soundtracks, mixed CDs, Pacman, the 80s, Duck Hunt, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the Cosby Show, puddles, Full House, loud music, good speakers, Johnny Cash, pretty girls, puppies, the Beatles, the Chronicles of Narnia, Harry Potter, the Lord of the Rings, skits, the Big Friendly Giant, tickling, getting tickled, soap in the fountain, apple orchards, tunneling at SJU, BB gun fights, bumper stickers, warm blankets, riding horses, Dr. Suess, cute black children, the Eiffel Tower, Love Story, mythology, urban legends, jumping in a leaf pile, new contacts, VW Beetles, fog, losing your voice, traditions, ritual, De Ja Vu, waking around the house naked, well water, rope bridges, spontaneity, running through a cornfield, getting muddy, mud fights, exceeding expectations, proud parents, sleeping on a futon, sleeping in the cold, seeing your breath, fogging up a window and drawing on it, lipstick on girls, lipstick on guys’ faces, ear rings, toe rings, anklets, the hula dance, hula hoops, the limbo, skip it, jump roping, pogo sticks, pogo balls, monkey bars, pretending, slides, tire swings, 8 track tapes, falling asleep in class, watching someone else fall asleep in class (ie, the head nod), having someone play with your hair, making noise, feeling like you belong, when your boyfriend’s parents like you, Christmas stockings, backpacks, Oreos and milk, milk break, road signs, the Blues, flags, Slip n’ Slide, Adam Sandler, jet skiing, car chalk, sidewalk chalk, hop scotch, chapstick, TPing houses, forking lawns, petty vandalism in general, mashed potatoes and gravy, duck duck greyduck, decorating cookies, hip hop, disco, hitting a baseball (specifically the crack of the bat), finding a good stick, sprinklers under trampolines, taking a big shit, not having to wipe (the first one is clean), peeing in the woods, being tan, feeling healthy, feeling sexy, popping zits, cabins, ski trips, riding the chairlift, hot springs, smelling lilacs, wildflowers, driving around, finding edible mushrooms, riding your bike really fast, big weird poisonous mushrooms, coed group showers, flooding the locker room, big fluffy towels, scrap books, getting pictures back, taking pictures, Disney World, playing in waves, taking baths with siblings when little, Valentine’s Day, Pinestock, the Stella Maris Chapel, Walmart Supercenters (especially when burning), Target, fixing bikes, Christmas shopping, decorating your Christmas tree, presents under the tree, barbershops, driving the NAUGHTY VAN in a ski mask, merry-go-rounds, jumping off swings, “Money” by Strong Barrett, blue Christmas lights, outdoor cafes, getting snowed in, blowing bubbles, homemade mittens and scarves, kazoos, Turtle Fur, Drifit, sunshine, tubing on a river, blues guitar, big trucks, motorcycles, candy canes, Hawaiian shirts, carving pumpkins, RVs, picking out a Christmas tree, bag lunches, picnics, long underwear, gymnastics, getting a sticker on your tests, Max dancing, coming home to a clean house, feather cushions/beds, chocolate orgasms at the Reef, candlelight, scavenger hunts, listening to music, watching monkeys, getting pruny in the bath, ice bathing, night swimming, catching tadpoles/frogs/crayfish, spitting watermelon seeds, sticky popcorn, the trails at SJU, Hobbit Hole, Lake Sag, THE PIT, Loso’s, friends, Discovery Health Channel, popping bubble wrap, crossing a state border, opening presents, wrapping presents, playing fetch, rocking chairs, good smelling lotion, sneaking out, candy stores, the bakery smell, warm sheets from the dryer, leftover macaroni, anticipation, tunafish sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, dad making breakfast, down pillows/sleeping bags, aviator glasses (preferably with mirror lense), Hypercolor shirts, ass massages, arm wrestling, cocktail parties, chickenfights, Icees, thumb wars, cribbage, drinking games, Katsuaki Nishiki, dressing up as Santa, Christmas caroling, roasting marshmallows, wildberry TUMS, Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream, video cameras, the moon landing, maps, writing on someone’s back with your finger and having them guess what you wrote, learning new things, PEZ, Reese’s Pieces, sporting goods stores, fabric stores, the candy aisle, sunsets, sun rises, tackling people in the snow, ejaculation, ambiance, big boobs, nice physiques, nice eyes, custard filled donuts, Chipotle, hippies, bell bottoms, glow in the dark stuff, flavored body lotions, chocolate syrup, grenadine, maraschino cherries,  rolling your pantlegs up, cosmic bowling, the Mississippi River, jumping on the bed, hammocks, Winnipeg, nursery rhymes, caves, cave mud, UFOs, kegs, reality TV, electricity, the O.C., flushing toilets, spandex, clothes that fit perfectly, Carhart overalls, 40z, old men on bikes, cultural fusion dances, luaus, cross country skis, Rhode Purple, someone else waxing your skis for you, fjords, Superbowl commercials, the Superbowl halftime show, cruise ships, ceiling fans, throwing stuff in fans, bay windows, kneeing a guy in the balls, study breaks, getting it on in a car, pregnant 4th graders, DQ Blizzards, Chris Farley, booths at restaurants, fish bowls of beer, songs with your name in them, indoor tracks, rubberized tracks, demolition derbies, county fairs, the State fair, Cher, Papasan chairs, cordless vacuums, cordless phones, throwing a pie, pie eating contests, taking it easy, climbing water/radio towers, pointing out phallic imagery, neck massages, moaning girls, providing intense pleasure to someone, finding the perfect shirt at Savers, getting a truck to honk, getting a barge to honk, Rollerblade tag, Rollerblade basketball, jumping out of a moving boat, Uptown, downtown at Christmas, main street, coffee shops, dictionaries, churros, college profs that buy students beer, root beer floats, Madonna, Eskimo kisses, siblings, butterfly kisses, Winnie the Pooh, honey, jumping on the bed, drive-in movies, Twins games, horseracing, Smurfs, one-on-one basketball, pillow fights, PJs, frozen confections, Cadbury crème eggs, peeps, Easter egg hunts, dying Easter eggs, Sasquatch, Rainbows, Moon/Sun Dogs, slow dancing, Red Rover, teepees, old movie theaters, Turkish Apricots, running up the down escalator, ET, total enlightenment, letter jackets, wax lips/teeth, hemorrhoid crème, lunar freak outs, shit breaks, Dr. “My-Shit-Is-Bloody”, “Fly”, orange pop, cherry koolaid, hard liquor lamps, “Hey Ya”, “The Volume Fairy”, 4 wheeling, flowers, poo poo poo, and so on ad infinitum.

Short and Sweet

When I really let myself be myself,
Ooooohhh, what a nice person I am.
How do I do that all the time?

10/10/05... Good Luck Gringito


Dear People of the Future,

There is a great difference between gaining knowledge and learning things.  Knowledge sticks with you and dictates what you actually do with your life.  Things learned come in handy while you’re adhering to the lifestyle your knowledge (or, much more often, lack of knowledge) dictates as appropriate.

That said, I can now say that in the month since I dropped out of medical school I have come to KNOW more than 7 years of intense medical education would have bestowed upon me.

I think I would have forgotten a lot if I devoted four years of life to memorization and another three to being a medical system's bitch.

Moving back to Jackson Hole beyond broke and completely unsure of what the future holds, I lost any motivation whatsoever to attain conventional power/status/money/sex-appeal-based success.

Good luck, Gringito.

Right out the gate, I put in a week of Ranch Hand work, beer swilling, and conversation with the ex-Army Ranger, ex-convict, father of three, elk and moose poaching, Bob Segar blaring, pureblood Apache beau of my “surrogate mother”/landlord.

By the way, in case its not common knowledge anymore, Apaches were one of many nations of Native Americans living all over North America before white people showed up and killed almost all of them.  Only about a hundred years ago the major slaughter of them tapered off.

Needing to make some money without losing any days, I took on a full time overnight security position guarding the posh gated community where none other than Richard “BIG DICK” Cheney occasionally hangs his unsullied cowboy hat.  Three nights a week… 6 pm-6 am.

A ridiculous security uniform that will soon be my Halloween costume.
A tight little guard shack... too small to sleep in.
A computer as my only companion.
And a lot of angst towards THE MAN, whom, ironically, I am supposedly protecting.

In my little red patrol truck I drive right past Dick’s house three times every night.
Every time I wish I had a million hands to tear that monstrosity down… or at least direct a million middle fingers towards it.

I don’t claim to know the answers to my era's problems but I know killing poor, powerless, confused, manipulated folks half the world away, no matter whose system of control they were born under, just isn’t right.

I also know lying is wrong, especially if you’re lying about very important things regarding the wellbeing of all life on this planet.

I also know it is stupid to waste potential energy kindly stored by our organic ancestors.  Especially if you're using it to blow shit up.

Hoping to put some money way, I've taken on another 40-60 hour/week position doing what is, in fact, one of the hardest, least understood or appreciated, but thought provoking jobs in America today: Banquet Preparation and Server at a high class hotel.

Three to five times daily I create absurdly ethereal, white, spotless, flowing AND glinting perfection from an organization/culture that is wasteful and unproductive chaos at best.

Eight overworked middle managers constantly dictate and contradict one another.  MinUUUte details cannot be overlooked or I’ll hear about them eight times from eight different people.

Eleven different things to put perfectly in place every time a fat, stupid, disgusting, wasteful, completely unaware ass sits down to learn “THE SECRETS OF SUCCESSFUL SALES” or “REAL ESTATE : EMERGING MARKETS OF THE WEST”… chair… _ “schoolie” table… spotless 52x114 table cloth… skit clips… spotless table skirt… pad… pen… custom chocolate…embroidered napkin… polished water goblet…  plate… doily… pitcher of ice cold previously bottled water.

After the absurd, misinformative presentation concludes I clean up all that shit, vacuum the bits they dropped to the floor, and completely overhaul the room for a whole new set of fat, stupid, disgusting, wasteful, completely unaware asses.

Fortunately it’s a mind-numbing job that’ll have me on snow 180 days this year and keep me in the black.  It also further exposes me to a world I’ve never truly KNOWN and never truly will; I work alongside many people less fortunate than I including the young, tired, beautiful but haggard Mexican woman, who, every night of the week from 12-8 am, cleans an enormous, disgusting kitchen until it shines like a chromed-out fender… only to have that order completely destroyed daily in the interest of white middle and upper class luxury.  I’ve also learned from the mentally handicapped dishwasher who cranks out cleanliness all day long and the GEN X cooks who, like me, love listening to Temple of the Dog and refuse to buy in any more than they have to.

I've also created a completely original service that will not succeed but should—here’s my card:

• Awareness Enhancement • Lifestyle Modification •
“Weed out the shit & get fit.”
Always Affordable

(320) 493-4402

Also, I'm caught as the only male in a love pentagram with a semi-professional extreme skier, former professional surfer, former Reno go go dancer, and innocently deadly Catholic school girl.

Until now, you probably thought us old timers of the distant past lived slow, uneventful lives.

So here’s where things stand with me.  I hope you’re all well.  Strangely and wonderfully, I’m doing better than ever before.

Your Friend,

Max Mogren


Angry little fucker...


Dear People of the Future:

Remember that everything unnatural you interact with daily was created from the blood, sweat, and convoluted manipulation of the poor and uneducated.  This includes but is not limited to toilets, chocolates, streets, shoes, and animal crackers.  99.9% of the work in this world exists only because of humanity’s myriad array of intertwined flaws… and this work is ALWAYS distributed unfairly by the fat, stupid, disgusting, wasteful, completely unaware asses of the world and placed squarely on the shoulders of the manipulatable.  But more of this another evening… I’ve got more material to spew than my tired eyes can currently review.




Dear People of the Future:

One of my favorite things is bopping about and seeing a stranger so healthy, beautiful, and intriguing I feel butterflies and can’t take my eyes off them.  Whether I approach the person or not, stumble upon them again or lose them just as quickly as I found them, one thing is certain: I enjoy knowing they exist.

I am treated to this experience very infrequently because the majority of people in the United States at this point in time are, to put it bluntly, FAT and BORING.  Over half of Americans are clinically overweight and almost all of them are chronically overworked.  Most of them have their lips permanently planted on the asses of those with MONEY and POWER as well.

I’m not saying we should all strive to be supermodels but rather should weigh what humans are naturally intended to weigh; people of all different body types can be beautiful if they take care of themselves.  I’m not saying we should shy away from work either, but that it’s absurd to work so much that health, family, friendship, hobbies, community involvement, and the like fall off as the cycle of EARN and SPEND spins round and round.

Feeling satisfied with oneself and attracted to/intrigued by others are crucial components of happy, healthy humans.  When those components of social life are lacking people search for satisfaction in less natural ways… money, power, material possessions, mood-altering drugs, dysfunctional relationships, self-destructive habits, etc.

Hopefully you folks of the future are all taking care of yourselves and lookin’ good.  Doing so is more important than most people now think it is.

Yours in the shallow seriousness of our species,

Max Mogren

When did I get so much dumber?

Blast From the Past

I've got nothing but time for the next 20 days so I'm cleaning out the external hard drive that recently, perhaps magically, started working again.

 Nothing reminds me the present is fleeting like a little stroll down memory lane.

I'm sure you're familiar with the wisest off all expressions, appropriate regardless:


Bear with me here.

I used to be a bit wordier and a lot more terrified of voluntary poverty and travel.

It seems I was just about as hung up on beautiful, inspiring, perhaps-a-little-crazy women as ever...

...and just as hungry for something REAL.


Tales from My Time In Jackson
--Max Mogren--

It is 11:39 pm on March 30, 2005… a Wednesday night.  Everyone else is out getting shitfaced to celebrate  Modena’s last night in town but I’m home with good reason.

I have $722.63 in my only bank account and exactly $0.73 in cash.

Tomorrow I will collect $449.57 from the Jackson Hole Ski Club… my last paycheck from my 6-hour-a-week winter job (hanging out with the middle school XC ski team three afternoons a week).

I will also collect $162.50 from Nadia (half my month’s rent for letting her store her stuff here during our month long trip to Costa Rica).  I will also collect approximately $120.00 from selling everything I could live without (excluding, of course, essential outdoor equipment) on EBAY.

I’ll spare the few of you still reading more accounting: when all the bills are paid there’ll be $882.50 to live on for the next 47days… until April 15th when I hope to receive a meager paycheck for a week’s work I hope to do at a job I hope to find immediately after returning from Costa Rica by way of Colorado on April 8th.

In short, I am guaranteed to go broke and stay there for quite some time (assuming I can even survive with no money for weeks in a country where I don’t understand the language let alone the lifestyle).

Always the optimist, however, I am proud to say that due of my lack of credit cards and some extremely disappointed parents (who funded my liberal arts education) I am actually wealthier than most of you working stiffs:

Financially, I owe nothing to noone!

Then again, being debt free sure isn’t gonna get me out of a Costa Rican jail like having an extra $100.00 in my wallet would.

I get too caught up on girls to the point where I neglect my other relationships… always have and always will.  She (Nadia) is out of town for a week and I’m not even considering going out… I’m pretty far gone and it doesn’t really bother me… yet… it inevitably does drive me out of love… always has.

There should be another foot of fresh on top of last night’s 7 inches of fluff; the skiing will be great and I intend to be skiing.  Between my open relationship with girlfriend and thinly-concealed affair with the mountains I am incapable of holding a J.O.B., let alone seeding hangovers over the course of late nights out on the town burning through money I don’t have.

As soon as the next paragraph is writ I’ll put aside fears of debt and immediately commence sleeping like a fucking baby…preparing for yet another day filled with skiing.

I got where I am right now somehow.

I wasn’t always like this.

11 months ago I was financially secure, attending a private college, working full-time, dating a doctor’s daughter, and bragging about scoring in the 92nd-96th percentile on the MCAT (I guess I still do).

Then I moved to Jackson Hole, WY for the stereotypically “ill-fated” year off before entering medical school… and I changed.

Am I better off now than I was then?  Am I more true to myself now than I was then?  Am I a more ideal human (whatever that means can mean a lot of different things)?  How did I change so much so quickly?

I suppose recalling what these 11 months have brought will help me make some sense of what’s happened.

Reading them should be interesting for you.

Enjoy.  I know I did and I know I will.

-Max Mogren

Dealing in Dreams

My life has become a modern tragicomedy these days.  Fortunately I'm following the plot and occasionally laughing.

A few months ago I sailed back to Gigante on a whim about a girl.

I was a hopeless case when I first swam ashore here.

They nicknamed me "Shipwreck".

They took me in.

For a while there it all seemed too good to be true...

New Love.

New Life.

New Job.

New Dreams.

A Roof Over My Head.

Steady Sex.


Food In My Stomach.
 All these gifts stemmed from the same source.  One woman handed this drifting derelict a ready-made existence.

After being given so much, it's no wonder I fell so hard.

Thanks again, Beautiful.

Now, I'm still offered everything but the Love.

People ask me how I'm doing.  I reply, "I can't complain."

My only real dilemma is that in a town of 200 where Lost Love is your Boss there's no way, short of Exodus, of achieving distance.

I see the woman I desire but can't have countless times daily.
The funny thing is after a year of travel, a year of utter uncertainty, I can't muster the gumption to go anywhere.

I've convinced myself that this is a good learning experience.  I've convinced myself that love is a luxury few people can afford to give.

Nevertheless, lately I've been treading water with a cannonball in my chest.

Fortunately I'm strong and the effort feels good.   I know I won't drown.

As I kick and squirm and gasp for breath I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of my situation.

The laughter jars loose the cannonball and I muster a few strokes towards a not too distant shore.

 I don't get too far, however, until the cannons roar and I take another one square in the heart.

C'est la vie.  Bienvenidos.



Short Tribute to the Aussie Boys

I had the pleasure of hanging out with five 18-20 year old Aussie Gents off and on over the last two months.  We met in Tamarindo, CR where the crowds are ridiculous.

I told them about a little place called Gigante with perfect waves and minimal crowds.  We sailed up together and they stayed for two weeks, chartering the boat daily and teaching me how to surf.

They were uniformly good natured and considerate guys who got me wondering why, at 28, I'm oftener than not a grumpy mess.

After spending a month in Puerto Escondido, Mexico they returned to Gigante for another two weeks.  I guess they must have liked it.  The more time I spend in Gigante the more I like it.

James, Seamus, Jimbo, Noah, and Mads, you are all missed by the crew in Gigante.  See you down under when I make it that way.

When one crew leaves another seems to materialize instantly.  Today I've got two Norcal rippers, a DJ from Vail, and two old friends from Jackson Hole on the boat.  We're heading from San Juan Del Sur to Gigante.  En route we're stopping here...

It'll probably be a little smaller today.  Less committing but not so intimidating and a lot more fun.

Anyway, I offer in tribute to my best clients ever, a song.

Ladies and Gents, the Goons of Doom.

I guess we can call the extended outro the lyric of the day.  The song is pretty fucking immature until that point...

...but aren't we all?

Hasta Luego,



Option 8

I appreciate all the feedback from friends and family with suggestions and additional options.

I have to admit I didn't include all my options in the last little bloggeroo... namely, Option 8.

I know better than to discuss Option 8 with anyone but Maestra. Suffice it to say, Option 8 is a good one.

Moving on.

One of the best things about pent up desire is that it lights a fire under your ass... keeps you on your toes... motivates you to figure shit out and get something done.

About 800 years ago, a piss-poor young Mongol named Temüjin started fighting to reclaim his kidnapped wife, whom he, by the way, loved.

Because he did what he did so long ago, these daze we've all got a little Temüjin flowing through our veins... at least genetically.

You may know Temüjin better by his title: Genghis Khan.

Determination comes easy once I've made up my mind.

Sorting objectives is the hard part.

I've got no desire for world domination.

I don't want to dominate anyone's world... just to be a welcome presence.

Moving on.



Ya don't have to go home but ya can't stay here.

During my bartending years, I loved shouting this as I herded the last of the drunks out of the Silver Dollar Bar.

I got to get home to my woman.

I got to get up before dawn and get out in the REAL world.

God willing, I'll be back in Minnesota from Dec. 10 until Dec. 15. Then I'll be in Jackson Hole from Dec. 15 until Jan. 15.

I'm looking forward to seeing my family.

I'm looking forward to couchsurfing a month, working enough to put a little away, skiing with great friends, and reconnecting with the life-giving Tetons.

FYI, "Tetons" means "tits" in the French of the trappers who named them.

A Friend Suckling the Grand Teton. I was there.

I'm not looking forward to the culture shock.

The planes will feel like coffins, especially since I've sworn never to fly again.

I'll be overwhelmed by the topics of conversation, prevailing values, news, fashions, technology, and all the other noise.

I am still well aware why I left 14 months ago.

I'm pretty sure I don't belong stateside and I'm pretty sure my upcoming trip will reconfirm this.

But it's been a very dramatic month here in Nicaragua, and I could use a break.

I'm not looking for an OUT. I'd be content staying put. Unfortunately, I'm digesting her realization that she can't let me completely IN.

Yesterday at sunset the dog and I scrambled to a favorite lookout. Her to play. Me to sort out my emotions in hopes of getting back to playing soon.

I found myself weighing options.

1) Continue setting up shop here despite the heartache. Embrace the rejection and learn from it. This could definitely be good for my capacities of restraint, patience, and self-control. The problem is...

2) Outfit the boat as best as possible with what little I've got and make a run for Peru. Problem: the boat is now well beyond being a piece of shit. A new autopilot and motor and sails would be essential. That's at least $2500 in improvements. $2500 I don't have. I have $1000.

3) Sell the boat for a couple thousand and fly to Patagonia. Start over with the help of friends there. Problem: I'd feel like a cheater. I'm not the man I was when I fell in love with Chalten. My illuminating Argentinian friend Chino is dead.

4) Sell the boat for a couple thousand, build small outrigger with kayaks. Head south at a snail's pace on a caveman kick. Advantage: lots of surfing, lots of exercise, lots of thinking. Problem: lonely, minimal margins of error, zero comfort. Nevertheless a good fucking option!

5) Sell the boat for a couple thousand. Head for home and try to get a good job in a ski or surf town. Save every penny. Maybe do some writing. Look for a good woman. Wait for the right boat and then pounce. Fix it up and sail it all over this world. Problem: depressing, conventional, boring, perhaps the least desperate option but also the least appealing.

6) Hack holes in the boat, raise the sails and set a seaward course. Cover it with gas and set it on fire. Reaffirm: I WANT TO LIVE! Dive overboard! Swim towards shore! Decide what comes next during the swim. Advantage: LIBERATING! Problem: not very environmentally or economically responsible. Self- destructive. Overly dramatic. I'd feel like a horse's ass as I crawled up the beach.

Nevertheless, as the last of the sun's orb dropped behind the horizon, option 6 seemed particularly tantalizing.

Then another sailboat rounded the bend, captained by some Nicaraguan friends of Dale. He'd told me they were coming.

They're here to do essentially what I'm doing: charter a sailboat out of Gigante. They don't want to compete so they're offered a deal:

Trade the Sin Fin for a 1978 BMW motorcycle.

And a lucky number 7 suddenly appears in my world of options:

Make the trade but continue running the boat here until December 10th. Lock the bike a la Pee Wee Herman with as much chain as I can find. Fly most of my crap home. Ski and save money in Jackson. Give Maestra to my parents or find a sidecar for the bike.

Return to Nicaragua with what it'll take to ride off in search of my destiny.

Now, that's just another option but it sure puts a wild hair up my ass.

Fortunately, I have a month to make up my mind... and plenty of waves to ride in the meantime.

I may not have love, but at least I have options. Not only that, I have good options.

And the future is wide-open.

I hope you all feel the same.



Fronting Sanity

Hey All,

In the interests of making enough money to perhaps pay off my personal demons, I've got a new little blogvertisement here.

If you've got friends interested in sailing and surfing Nicaragua, please send them here.

Now the old Viaje Sin Fin, currently only navigating my mind, can get back where it belongs.

Enjoy it all.



The Hardest Part...

The hardest part of chartering the sailboat to a bunch of backpackers is getting everyone up and out and on the boat. I've got nothing to do but stew as I wait so I might as well write it down.

These San Juan trips are especially painful, waiting alone outside room Zero while the crew congregates, disperses, congregates, disperses, congregates, congeals, and finally boldly decides to venture out in search of breakfast... 35 minutes after our scheduled departure.

I tell myself it's good for my patience... good for my self-control... that I'm developing virtuous habits through semi-selfless living... that I'm learning to slow down, to go with the flow.

You'd think I'd have figured that out by now, 15 months into such a slow rolling trip, 28 years into a life examined to death.

Not yet. Today's lyric of the day is very long but very dear to me.


When I first splashed out the water, it was all wet
Covered in blood, mama covered with sweat
The umbilical cord wrapped around my neck
Chokin' me, doctor pushin' me and pokin' me
I said to the motherfuckin' nurse "You must be jokin' me"
Ten fingers, ten toes like it's supposed to be
Thank god there ain't no coke in me
That's when my momma spoke to me
She said, "Son, your uzi weighs a ton"
The world for you has just begun, now go out there and have some fun
But don't abuse time on earth 'cause time's worth more than gold
The here is here and the now is now and the world is hella cold
So off into the street I strode
I think I'm supposed to take your head as far as I was told
It's a shake-shake of the dice, you should take-take my advice
You dealin' with snakes and mice, that means you can't win
But losin' I'd never have trouble choosin', 'cause what I'm gon' use 'em
If it ain't worth doin' now, it ain't worth doin' at all
I ain't bullshittin' wit y'all

Your life is here and now
No need to beat your brow
These moments won't belong to you, tomorrow

Well here I am, here I stand, here I be
Behind this mic tryin'a set my life free
Let my shit be testimony of a G
Who seen sights that other people just couldn't see
They say "Where you wanna do it?" I say "Here"
They say "When you wanna do it?" I say "Now"
They say "How?" I say "With my style, one of the few things I got in this world
My family, a couple friends, my beautiful baby girl"
And procrastination, lack of motivation in your operation
I'm sorry but I just don't have the patience
You'll never get a second chance to dance
While you sit on your hands, we spit out the jams for the fans
And I'm so far advanced, I had to bring it back some
And I said fuck it, let's take it to the maximum
Like walking with your legs broken, mic spoken
Arms draggin, staggerin' and laughin', here and now
I don't cry later, I put it down now, I don't wanna try later
I seize the time, the eves from behind
I freeze-frame the game for the grind, I came for your mind
Not for the fame, but the deaf, dumb, and blind
'cause everybody's gonna get just what come to 'em
Find your God, and run to 'em

I wanna talk now, no you can't call me back
You're too anxious, yeah, you could call me that
I wanna eat now 'cause there the food right there
No I can't wait, I just want my fair share
So where the food at? Call all the shots at
"Patience is a virtue," Yeah man, I got that
But my clock reads half past a monkey's ass
And a quarter to his balls, and it's moving fast
I just wish some people wouldn't dick around
'cause I want it here and now, I can't stick around
Yeah, so I probably won't be in the lobby
Waitin' for Bobby to give me a jobby-jobby
Hey Simo, primo, Kemo-sabe
Knees knobby, but stand firm, not wobbly
So where we at? Right here, when time is a now
Motherfuck the date, motherfuck the time

Aceyalone, Here and Now


So yeah, the waiting is the hardest part.



Hot Dogs and Hallways

I still remember the first tinge of desire I ever felt. Like many of my emotions it got bastardized at a much too young age by the mainstream mass media.

I refer to Princess Leia during her stint as a scantily-clad slave of Jabba the Hutt.

I was 8ish. Now I'm 28ish. Not much has changed.

See, a guy like Jabba the Hutt resonates deeply with my own experience as the epitome of bad.

A strong, beautiful, competent woman enslaved by bad is about as enticing a target as I could find.

I'm told to build my empire but see myself becoming a Jabba if I ever were to do so. I could easily become a greedy bastard if the money started flowing. We all could. And anyway...

I'd rather walk the sky any day of the week.

Broke as a joke but laughing all the way.

I'm not referring to any one person as Jabba. I can't say the same for Leia.

I don't place blame on individuals. We all just got here. I refer to society's tenets, culture's accepted aspirations.

The Empire Strikes Back.

Today I found myself surfing waves much weaker and smaller than the last few days.

Though the surf was nothing, I found myself panicked every time I went through the spin cycle. Those brief seconds of helplessness made my current lack of control momentarily unbearable.

I felt buried alive. I felt lost in space. Alone and burning.

After a few falls I found myself on the beach, contemplating my mortality and convincing the bartender to spot me some drinks.

Three beers deep and low on hope I ran into an acquaintance from Jackson Hole. I got to spill my guts, and it made me feel much better.

Back at the boatload I'm hounded about my excellence, my transcendence, my inspirational mentality.

The drunker they get, the better they make me sound.

The drunker I get, the better I listen.

I'm told stories of love and loss. I'm told stories of death.

I'm offered something like Fate's Consolation Prize.

I'm offered release and convenient guilt. I decline.

I'm left wondering, "If life's so short, why am I so alone?".

The question itself makes little sense. I know there's no answer.

So I'm snuggling Maestra and singing over and over and over again...

...a giggling falsetto operatic arrangement of...

...the lyric of the day.


Why must I be like that?
Why must I chase the cat?
Nothin' but the dog in me.

-George Clinton, Atomic Dog


I'm not torn to bits. You can't shred tatters.

A good woman fights back. Against whom is the only question.

Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm. I'm powerless but to love it all.



Memorize it.

"We also rejoice in our sufferings,
because we know that suffering produces perseverence;
perseverance, character;
character, hope.
And hope does not disappoint us."

-Romans 5:3-5

I couldn't say it better myself... but Bradley Nowell did:

"Stay positive and the love will come back to me."

-Sublime, GET OUT


After a couple weeks out of the water with a third degree burn...
and another couple weeks of rain and sloppy waves...
and because of a few other little things...
my stoke level was at an existential-crisis-initiating low. As in...

What the fuck am I doing here?

Then the clouds parted, waves of energy arrived, and it all came clear.

This morning 8 of us sailed from Gigante in search of waves. We found perfect tubes at Playa Colorado... and had them pretty much all to ourselves.

Luckily, my buddy Noah had his $200 waterproof digicam and the self-control to set down his own board for an hour, during which he captured about 1/100th of the perfect waves nabbed today at Playa Colorado.

David Holloway, 2009 US East Coast Champion, in the middle of a "9 second" tube he immediately proclaimed the greatest wave of his life.

Seamus on the shoulder.

Bryce lining up a barrel.

Seamus tucking in.

Madison out front.

Is that really me?

Unknown working.

David "Gary Hongos" Holloway making it look easy.

Nicaraguan Local Elbin on one of his smaller waves.

Good thing we're all friends.

Me en route to yet another lesson about commitment.

We'll be up at dawn again Manana. Well, maybe.

Since it's supposed to blow offshore all day it doesn't really matter when we surf.

Get Out,



All Up In My Business

Whether you surf or not, if you come to Nicaragua, I'll show you a good time.

If you want to learn to surf, I'll show you a really good time.

If you already surf, I'll show you a really, really good time.

Yeah, I've got flyers. Click 'em and they'll grow.




If you're wondering what time of year is best to come, this should help.



Note that when the skiing's good the surfing's still good but not quite so good. That, my friends, is climatic convenience... and a damn good excuse to get out of town.

Any questions?


All profits go to my BBFBF (buy a better fucking boat fund).

Help me help you.

Big Sloppy Kisses,



In love and in surfing...

A closeout tuberide is better than no tuberide at all.

As always, there's a clause:

Excepting your breath, let go of everything as the wave comes crashing down.

Eventually you'll surface.

So why not a little .38 Special for our lyric of the day:


Hold on loosely
But don't let go
If you cling to tightly
You're going to lose control