A travel blog, something I should have begun years ago, is next on my writing horizon.  In keeping with the retroactive theme of my surf blog, this too will require going back in time (at least initially) to capture some important trips.  I know, I know – who posts stories from the past, way in the past, but some of these things must be captured.  However, the first group of posts (and this one will actually be in real time) is our trip to Ireland.
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The conference has concluded so we’ve driven over to the western side of the state to visit the town where Ted lived when he was in 9^th and 10^th grade.

The 4-hour drive was beautiful and we had lunch on a lake.  When we got into Corvallis – a metropolis of 976 people – we stopped at the high school. Continue reading

When Ted lived here in the 70s, his dad took him to Big Sky Golf Course for a charity tournament where he met Alan Hale Jr., the actor who played The Skipper on Gilligan’s Island.

A big moment in his young life (understandably, who didn’t love that show?), so when we realized we were just up the road from the course, we knew we’d have to play a round. Continue reading

When I was in 3^rd grade, I had a friend whose parents somehow acquired a zip line for their backyard.  This was the 80s, long before zip lining became mainstream recreation, so they were one of the coolest houses on the street.  Come to think of it, the family also had a “boat phone” for their cigarette boat so I guess they were pretty progressive.

Now, the zipline wasn’t that high off the ground and there was of course no harness.  You just held on to the tiny plastic handles on either side of the trolley and made sure you lifted your feet high enough so they didn’t catch a stump on the way across.  But still, it was a zip line…in their back yard. Continue reading

When I think of Montana, I think of “A River Runs Through It.”  The scenery, the exquisite narration by Robert Redford, and the cast.  Tom Skerritt played a father that every boy should have, the younger brother was the image of innocence, and Brad Pitt’s troubled character was well…Brad Pitt, at his prime (read: before all the crazy set in) and for many, that was the first introduction to him.

That movie also introduced millions of people to the art of fly fishing.

However, long before that movie came out, Ted learned how to fly fish.  When he left Miami to move in with his father in Montana, his dad was not too interested in entertaining a teenage boy – though his dad had no trouble finding ways to occupy him.  It was usually with arduous work that today’s parents wouldn’t dream of giving their kids…which is why we’re all soft. Continue reading

Ted spent some of his teenage years in western Montana and because of a conference going on out here this week, we’ll be hanging out in Big Sky Country for a few days.

We flew into Bozeman yesterday and drove an hour south to Big Sky resort.  Along the way, we passed creeks and fly fishermen – which go hand-in-hand in this state.  One fisherman had his dog with him who was enjoying the refreshing (read: frigid) mountain river water. Continue reading

Whoops.

So I guess when I dove face first into a sandbar on my recent surf trip, I did a little damage to the eardrum.

I wondered what was going on when a few days had passed and it wasn’t getting better, but rather quite a bit worse.  By day 7, the whole left side of my head hurt so badly and I could feel my heart beat in my ear.

Yikes. Continue reading

It was a beautiful morning and the colors of the sand and water were muted from the clouds diffusing the early morning light.

The waves were more powerful than yesterday and I was reminded of that fact each time a wave threw me over the side of my board.  On one of my many pearls, I was slammed into the sandbar, with my shoulder and face taking the brunt of it.  When the side of my face hit the bar, I think it did something to my ear because it’s been a little stopped up ever since.  Come to think of it, was noticeably tender when I was washing the sand out in the shower afterward… Continue reading

Last night, I sat out on my balcony and watched the moonlit surf. It was an extraordinarily bright night and the moon’s light was causing the waves to twinkle as they broke on the sandbar.

There was no evidence of people that I could hear: no cars driving by, phones ringing, or music playing. All I could hear from my darkened balcony were the wind and the waves. Continue reading