When I sent the board pictures I asked if anyone had a Rock Story. Here are two I received. the first one is from Jonh Slowsky and the next one is from Tony Verdecia. Not all rock stories include danger.
Rocks are your Friends
By John Slowsky - Lifeguard 69-73
There was this one spring day where I had gone to Bluebird beach for a day of delight with other
schoolmates from Thurston Jr. High had gathered. I remember it being quite a gaggle of young
boys and girls beginning their departure from childhood and into the brave unknown of being an
adolescent. It was on this particular day that a change in my life was about to happen. I was the
smallest kid in school and I always struggled to be accepted by my peers. I felt the surest way to
win their approval today was to go where they went without hesitation and do what they did. But
where did they go and what did they do? They swam way out to sea to go bodysurfing where
the college guys did. Yeow! I had never left the shore before this day and I didn't want anyone
to know how scared and intimidated I was.
It sounds so simple and silly now but when you have grown accustomed to the world as you
know it and about to enter the world that you don't… well the idea of leaving the shore for the
first time is horrifying. I can remember the other guys already out in the water and I remember
that I needed to prove to myself that I could do this. I never let on to them that I had never done
this before… so I faked it. I just swam out as fast I could and screamed at the waves like I
was stoked, when in reality I was freaked out of my mind. A collection of rocks were directly
in front of us and when you took off on a wave you had to successfully navigate left to avoid
being smeared across them. With each passing wave of success it became easier and more
enjoyable; I didn't want to get out of the water. This leap into the abyss has continued to this
day. The more I learn to expand my world; greater the depth of life I get to enjoy.
By the time summertime came around I had begun bodysurfing at most of the beaches that
were closed to surfing during the day (Brooks, Oak and Thalia Street) with my best friend Bill
Brown. I can still remember the first day he took me out to the reef at Thalia Street. Billy had
been swimming in front of me and when he arrived to the reef's shelve he turned and to my
surprise… stood up. I didn't know that you could stand all the way out there and so I yelled
to him "are you standing on sand"? And he yelled back "No Rocks!" "Rocks are your friends".
Proving that if you needed to catch your breath; just stand on a rock.
By the following year my small band of friends had become quite proud with our ability to
navigate over, around and through any rock surface, hole or cliff found on the shore or off-
shore. With deliberate intention we would zoom past tourists struggling to get over the rock
glades at Cress Street in our bare feet to show-off how invincible our feet had become. We
would jump off the Arch or a number of other smaller ledges. We would catch waves from
partially submerged rocks at Woods. And to really top it off, wait for some unsuspecting tourist
to walk towards the Blow Hole when we would run past them and "fall" into the Hole. We would
then pretend we were getting sucked down and out of sight all the while screaming for our lives.
It was all a grand theatrical performance played over and over to our amusement.
Then came August, lazy, lazy August. Watermelons, beach chairs, sandy swimsuits, ebony
tanned children with too much time on our hands. It would be time for a swim to First Reef. We
grabbed our beach chairs and slung them over one shoulder while we held our Duck Feet (the
yellow ones) with the other hand and with finesse would roll a watermelon down to the water.
The group of us would slip on our fins and balancing the beach chairs on our shoulders we
would lumber out to First Reef with this awkward floating rolling watermelon. There must have
been a dozen of us both girls and boys: The Slowsky's, the Parson's, the Gleason's and more
I'm sure, all giggling and laughing the whole way out. We had all become quite natural how to
use the swell to lift us high onto the reef in perfect rhythm and timing. How to quickly "hold still"
while the remaining surge rushed past us and then receded off the sharp face we were clinging
onto. Then quickly scamper up the face and to the top surface of the reef (running with our fins
on) where it was hot and dry and free from the surf because of the low tide. There we uncurled
our beach chairs, pushed our watermelon into a tidal pool to keep cool, proceed to remove our
fins and rest in our chairs. Within a short time we would become comfortably hot once again and
the idea of eating a cold watermelon was on everyone's tongue. We would need to "crack" open
the watermelon; use our child-size hands to carve out a delicious helping for ourselves (being
as messy as we wanted to be). When everyone was stuffed and with the remaining melon it
was time for a last minute food fight before grabbing our chairs and fins and leaping back into
that incredible sea. Yep… that was great! I would give anything to relive that same experience
today.
When Dale asked if there were any rock stories we would like to share. I felt he was suggesting
some scary rescues (which we all have had at least one) or some in-training group experience
with some psycho mentor that threw us off of Seal Rock (yea, that tall cliff part) but my first
thoughts were indeed "Rocks are your friends" and what good friends they have been.
End
