Last month, during the week of my 21st, a concentrated rough patch with a fairly long-time girlfriend culminated in a split. Short version — I got dumped, and didn’t see it coming. But, all is better than before.

Imparting a surfer-specific brand of dealing with the aforementioned event came as the best and most obvious remedy. A truly freezing afternoon logging session at Long Sands seemed to be an ice pack to this wound. Lately I can’t get it out of my head – the way it looked, the way it felt tearing across those waist high peelers, paddling out beyond the break and charging my log towards the beach. I wasn’t even bothered that I couldn’t feel my hands and face again heading back through town, board in tow. To be honest, I miss surfing and the cold. The two have become somewhat synonymous. 

The other night, a buddy of mine visited me in Charlottesville. Having a beer with Clark, and having dinner together was a real treat. It was a small testament to all that I have to be grateful for. Getting back to school was also the most constructive way for me to swiftly move past the struggles of heartache and start rebuilding.

In truth, there are many incredible people to meet here in Virginia and waves to be ridden (however far out of the way). It just may require sifting. Post cold which I headily recovered from (I felt, and likely looked like death off and on for two weeks), I began to embrace the future. (for me it’s club running and free yoga at the mem). I met an interesting friend who I nearly knocked out during a class, hitting the ground hard while trying (working on?) my donkey kick up to a handstand pike. Had I not taken the time to get myself out there and strike up a conversation or two, these types of connections I have built up would never be forged and my existence would be less rich than it is now. 

Most things in life go as planned. What I once thought would be a lasting relationship went up in a blaze of emotions. What I once thought was going to be a week of epic surf in Acadia started out with two miserable rainy nights alone in my Jeep, followed by a few days of seriously on shore wind. I can’t neither consider the relationship or the trip as a waste of time. Both contained moments, experiences and subsets which shaped me as a person. In any event, both are in the past and can’t be changed regardless. The next time an opportunity for love or the set of the day presents itself, I’ll be ready and more experienced than the next guy. And If my longest board won’t catch a glide, I’ll explore the area.



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I’ve had plenty of people ask where they are, these waves. How they might find them, when they occur, or if they’re easily accessible. If we’re friends, I might show you someday, one, or maybe two of those water hills which I’ve discovered for myself. But for anyone else, I’ll point our fingers towards the coastline and mutter something like ‘they’re out that way.’ Because some secrets are worth keeping.

Events before places

40094109055_442738ca89_b“I was born at the end of an era; when film was ending, and digital transformed itself into the standard media for how people took pictures and shared stories. My mother had this old nikon camera that I remember using when I was a young kid on trips up the coast. Trodding through neglected cottages, wild blueberry plains, and forgotten civil war forts with it around my neck, I considered myself an explorer charting newfound territories around Maine’s most privatized inlets and neglected infrastructure.  

Continue reading “Events before places”


New York City is interesting in the same way that an assortment of stylish, however, mismatched socks is. You like so many of them individually, but you can’t just reach in and pull out a pair. You are at odds. Now, I’m not saying you there aren’t days when I could care less about wether my right foot is dark grey and my right, stark green, kind of like the south wall in my apartment, but I’m just entertaining the idea that sometimes I want things (my feet in this analogy) to look – and feel – a certain way. And so in New York, the situation can be similar to both a collection of gold-toe sock wearing, business seeking bunch like many old Andover dorm mates, (Quamme was all business — who cares for comfort anyways) and also a pair of bicycling Santa Claus socks that I had been given for Christmas one year (not really applicable everyday). You can start to envision the disorder.

New York is fun. I had a ball exploring all the food markets– just one single block revealed a more diverse palette of options than entire towns that I have lived in. It can be a place where incredible things happen, which could be refrained as tacos are always in season. I don’t envision it being a place where I could become complacent. For now, its an interesting collective of ideas. I would be able to do a lot of art in a big city, and might actually sell it for what I think it’s worth. I would predict many late nights in an odd apartment. More tacos. More Chinese food. Much more dim sum. More studios where everyone is gripped for real estate. More long runs. More skateboard commuting. More wacky finds at flea markets. More of a lot of great things.

Classic Flight of the Conchords… If you haven’t seen it. Caught on a flyer in the city.