A Line In Every Trace, notes from The Watt

Find your line, 8/18

   The surf reports call it small trace swell, ankle to knee high.  That was about right.  Choppy, sloppy, blown out.  The churned water a muddy brown with sand lacing the short stocky walls of the incoming like so many veins.  Call it what you want, it was a small day.  But, not such small traces that you couldn't lock into a few lines to ride.  Ya gotta figure, when it's that small, a nice SE shoreline wind'll rustle ya'll up some stoke here and there. Even if you're finishing up in a foot of soup.  My luck was the best ride occurred just before Targetman with the lens showed up.  No matter...gimme an ice cream, I know it happened.

Trace rides

Always looking for the Humor

 

  Post surf, the Quest for the best wings continued with tonight's stop at Pickles Pub on Coastal and 8th. A sports pub with 24 beers on tap. Niiiice!  Flatscreens everywhere, at least a half dozen pool tables and giant screen at center stage (perfect for those bandless nights).  Atmosphere-wise, the best yet.

   Then there was the wings...  We chose Hot Buffalo and Baltimore (Old Bay spice) style.  Nice and meaty, these wings would have fit the bill, IF they had been cooked all the way.  Some were a little underdone, some were a LOT underdone.  Oh when we fall short! The hammer dropped, the judgement passed.

   The Quest marches on.