Springtime in the Sonoran Desert

I arrived in Arizona last night with my wife. For the next two days, we’ll be staying with friends in their home surrounded by a stunning desert landscape. There are very few landscapes prettier than the Sonoran desert in the spring. I’ve been all over the world, and except for the dunes of Namibia, I believe the Arizona desert is the most beautiful in the world.

From here, we will drive down to Tucson for the Tucson Festival of Books. I’m a panelist in three sessions: Amazon for Authors, What to Expect With Self-Publishing, and Genre Writing. There will be a lot of great authors at the event and the festival ought to be fun. If you love books, there is no better place to be this weekend.

After the festival, we go to San Diego for two weeks of thawing out. There was little snow in Nebraska this year, but I could answer my wife’s question about the temperature with the fingers of a single hand. We have quests and family visiting us, but I should have plenty of time to catch a few waves.

Before returning home to Omaha, we’ll fly to New York City for 10 ten days to see our other grandchildren. My wife said something about shopping, but I’m sure I can bribe the grandkids to distract her.

When we get home after a month, our new house will be waiting. We’ll have more boxes to unpack, pictures to hang, paraphernalia to buy, and lots of handyman tasks. Maybe we’ll stay away longer, in hope that things will just sort themselves out. Fat chance.

There is no life east of Pacific Coast Highway

A few posts ago, I described meeting an old high school friend at his mountain retreat in the Sierras.

Mountain Sanctuary

When we were freshmen and sophomores, we rode bikes to the beach towing our surfboards behind us using jerry-rigged trailers we had cobbled together out of two-by-fours, carpet pieces, and old wagon wheels. It was a great time of life. The good news is that we knew it. We had lots of fun and many friends. We really did believe that no life existed east of Pacific Coast Highway (PCH).

Best of the batch of yours truly

On rare occasions, my friend would bring a twin-reflex camera to the beach and try to capture moments of surfing prowess. He had a darkroom in his garage and I can remember spending hours trying to finesse a recognizable image. No such luck. Without a telephoto, we only got  grainy pictures of neophyte surfers riding tiny waves. In other words, nothing we could pass around the school cafeteria to secure a date or a couple moments of fame.

On my visit last month, my friend gave me an envelope of black and white negatives. His idea was that in the big city, I might find a lab that could still process two-inch, fifty year old negatives. With a few phone calls, I succeeded. However, modern technology still can’t out-perform an enlarger in a garage. In fact, back in those days, we may have had the edge in technology for this ancient medium. Despite not finding Surfer Magazine-worthy material, we did have fun seeing these photographs once again. They brought back pleasant memories of long-ago summers. Unfortunately, they also reminded us how much time had gone by. Darn. Nostalgia just isn't what it used to be.

My Pinterest board on surfing

Me and an impolite friend

Modern Wetsuits, A wonder and a Pain in the Butt

A few days ago, I posted that I was going to Pacific Beach to get in a little surfing. The first day was blown out (windy), but I did have a great day yesterday. Sunny, with glassy conditions and 2-3 foot waves. Small, but about the right size for this old man.

The water was cold, but my wetsuit kept me toasty. The problem was getting the suit and booties on and off. What a pain. The new suits make Plastic Man look inelastic. You try to pull them off and they just stretch, and heaven help you if you get them doubled-up. In fact, I had a hernia operation a few years ago I blamed on hurrying to get my suit off.




I long for the good ol' days of my youth when we just threw on a bathing suit and shivered while waiting for a wave. 

I'm not serious. I hate being cold. New wetsuit technology is a godsend, I'll just have to remain  patient and take my gear off one step at a time. But I do like summers when a bathing suit and chafe guard is all you need.

By the way, I was the body-double for the O'Neil Wetsuit above. I also caught a double-overhead yesterday. (I write fiction, which means I lie for a living.)

Pacific Beach, San Diego

My wife has flown to Omaha to do some tasks that have to do with spa colors, soothing music, and aromatherapy.  She’s helping my daughter open a pedicure spa. Since I can’t contribute anything but bad advice, I’m driving today to Pacific Beach to get in a little surfing.

You might want to visit my Surf Pinterest Board. There are some great shots and a couple videos.






Three people have asked if I will continue to work on The Return or just surf all day. Boy, does that make me feel good. In truth, two hours is all I need suit up, surf, and shower. At my age, you no longer make a day of surfing. Since six hours is a full day of writing for me, I think I can catch a few waves and still make progress on the next Steve Dancy Tale. Besides, I write better at the beach. Who wouldn’t be inspired by something like this?