Protest, from the Watt's notes.

"Come on, loosen up. Swing, man!" -Frank Sinatra
Less protest, more harmony...streaming through the sectioned swell. 47th Street, 6/10/2020.

   I'd like to say this was a politically savvy post, but it's really not. Sure, we see what's goin' on around us. The riots are concerning. And yes, we're over the Covid. We are actually a pretty laid back Crew. But when adverse conditions hit, we get tested. Like anybody else. LWatt had't seen her parents in while, so she was traveling to Chicago to surprise them. Testing conditions of travel. Target and I held down the fort, hitting the 47th street break. High winds surprised us as we crossed the dunes. I might have protested the ocean conditions. The surf report called out semi-clean waist high waves. Instead I fought ESE wind swell to get into the lineup, and a northerly current that had me hiking back up the beach several times. I could have decided to boycott SwellInfo. Instead, the warming water temps...hittin' 72F...and a few slides through the chop provided the stoke enough to put it behind me. No need to  fight what you can't control. Perhaps a more justified protest came from Target. He found his spot, got comfortable, then had his artistic focus (he is the cameraman) interrupted by an overly talkative woman who shoulda' spent more time watching her child kicking sand all over the place, than annoying him with stories of beach adventures that never happened. Target took advantage of one my many hikes up the beach to exit, coastline to the right, thus bringing out the escapist in himself. Even pulled a passive aggressive protest-like move commenting that the waves were more consistent on the left side of the stone jetty. Not so much, but Crew members support each other, especially in the face of a conversationalist run amok. On one particular hike, I came upon a young guy with four rods lined up in the sand, ready to take on the night feeders who brashly announced, "I'm here to catch shark!" Then he asks how deep it was in the lineup, to which I replied, "about chest or so." Heading on back out, he was still busy getting his set-up ready as I drifted north. In this case I managed to snag the longest run of the evening, promising myself I would end it there. Walking up to Target he asked mockingly, "Well? You done?" I wondered if he knew about the Shark Surf Fisher. It wouldn't surprise me a bit. But, not to be intimidated I declared, "last one." Bad move. I walked by the kid as he was getting the first rod ready to launch. Protesting, I called out, "hey, last time out and it's all yours." Fortunately he nodded in concession. But, you know what they say about announcing "last ride." I drifted north, probably an extra couple blocks, to no avail. No more rides. There is no protesting Mother Ocean. She don't listen. I wrapped up, and we headed back up to our vehicles. Restaurants were still not completely open, and it was better to begin our gastronomic commentary when we were all together. The Journey is now on firm footing. The local taverns better get ready. Might as well end the protest. The Crew is comin'.

Vented Boardwalk. The OC is opening, and the Crew will be there!