Big Wave Mindfulness: Surfing For A ConnectionWritten by Maya Talisman Frost
Surfing is mindfulness in action. Riding biggest waves is an all-out, fully-present-or-die-trying proposition. Thanks to a persistent case of aquaphobia, I've never tried surfing. However, I've done my share of snowboarding, and I am trying to imagine what it would be like to carve slopes with several tons of avalanche chasing me down mountain. First of all, I would have to hike to top and wait to catch biggest avalanche, getting pummeled by several in process. Oh, and then try not to think too much about abominable snowman poised to take a hunk out of my leg when I least expect it. Yeah. I'm stoked. I don't really "get" surfing, but I stand in awe of it. It's impossible to avoid acknowledging strength, timing, grace and heart-blazing courage required just to catch those enormous waves, let alone ride them smoothly without wiping out. Whether or not you're into water, "Riding Giants" is a breathtaking film guaranteed to raise your pulse rate. Following rise of big wave surfing from its ragtag roots in fifties to jet-ski boosted endorsement deals of today, "Riding Giants" offers a fascinating look at surf culture in all its guts and glory--not to mention its sun-bleached hair, wave- toned bodies, and plenty of pre-cancerous skin cells. Although several world-class surfers are profiled, one I find most amazing is Jeff Clark, a 43-year-old native of Half Moon Bay, California who is credited with discovering Mavericks, a notoriously gnarly big wave mecca twenty miles south of San Francisco. Clark spotted monstrous waves from cliffs of Half Moon Bay as a teenager. One day, he decided to paddle half-mile in chilly ocean water to check it out. Never mind that he was too far out for his worried friend--or anyone else--to save him. Forget that these waves would turn out to be so huge that, years later, seasoned pros from Waimea would find them jaw-dropping. Disregard razor-sharp rocks waiting to chew up anyone unfortunate enough to be slammed to shore.
| | Kindness to StrangersWritten by Thomas Leo Ogren
Kingman, Arizona Tom Ogren My son, Josh, 14 then, and I were lizard collecting in northern Arizona. It was unseasonably cold and we saw few lizards. We were off in some very remote mountains and when I stupidly tried to go where no 4 wheel drive would make it, I immediately blew out a tire on my car, an old 1988 Mazda 626. Always prepared, I discovered our jack was rusted closed, and that spare tire was flat. We had seen no one on this deserted dirt road and started to hike. It was going to be a very long hike. After about an hour a pickup truck with several cowboys came down road. They were looking for some wayward horses of theirs. They were suntanned, rangy and tough looking, spoke very little, and wore 45 revolvers on their hips, but they quickly drove us back to our car. They took spare tire and said they'd be back. An hour later they showed up, spare tire fixed, and with their own huge jack, quickly fixed us up. We carefully drove back to town, Kingman, Arizona, several hours away. It was almost dark but we found an open tire place and bought a new tire. We usually go cheap and sleep outside and eat camp grub, but this time we decided to splurge. I asked auto guys where there was a restaurant that you could get a good meal. They said steak house just across street.
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