Salty Again

Salty Again

Getting amped to set my studio back up here in New England after a long journey inward.

During the ongoing pandemic there were 2 months of surfing being totally illegal in PR (with exercising outside illegal as well). I passed time thinking, practicing gratitude, upping my yoga practice, talking to family + friends on the phone/ZOOM, chilling with my cats, spending too much time on social media, and listening to a ton of WGBH radio. 


During lockdown I found that I had a very short attention span and was unable to concentrate enough to read books, could barely get through a full movie and could not create anything other than the made to order pieces that many of you sweet folks ordered from my online shop (THANK-you!). I am extremely grateful for those orders and they were made with pure love.

Since being back here in New England I have been revived by the salty sea.

gull fly by and shore

The first time out in my old 5-4 winter suit felt awkward in every way possible. I forgot my booties, parked down the road and biked down to the surf spot with my board unaware that my favorite spot had reopened the day before for parking (yayyyyy!). It was sunny but cold + windy + kinda crowded on the shore and in the water. I was not used to being around so many people just hanging out! I was wearing my wetsuit and face mask on the beach as I waved down familiar faces and chatted at distance. I felt like a total kook. That’s ok, everyone knows kooks have the most fun. In all of my excitement, I forgot to stretch. I forgot to wax up. I just made my way over the barnacled cheese grater rocks with my bare feet and hands and paddled out. I felt fumbly and like I hadn’t surfed in 2 years rather than two months! It still felt incredible to be back in the ocean legally.

It's not always size that matters

My next session later that week was better. The surf was super fogged in. Everyone was finishing the early morning shift as I showed up. The parking lot was near empty. This time I wore an old 4-3 with booties and gloves and felt about 40lbs lighter (and warm!). I stretched and waxed up, made my way over the barnacled cobblestones - this time my feet were protected by booties, my hands toasty warm in my lobster mitts - made my way through the shallows and paddled out into the fog. The awkwardness of my previous session melted away as I caught wave after wave after wave. Alone at one of my all time favorite spots. Finding myself again in all of the the sea level cloud cover. Such an incredible feeling. 

Karen coming back from her session

Each wave I caught brought me in just far enough to barely see through the fog and check to see if my friend had arrived. I was meeting up with one of my sweet surf sisters who is a nurse in MA and has been on the front lines non-stop during the pandemic. She needed this day more than me. She was running a bit behind me and boardless due to technical difficulties so I surfed until I had my fill. She would take my board out for a healing session herself later that morning.

We sat in on the beach (at safe social distance) as the fog burned off. It was 85 degrees in the city but cool enough where we were to need a little blanket to keep warm.

The world is topsy turvy in so many ways. We fear for our health and the health of our loved ones. We cry out at the inequities and injustices that have been here all along. We see the corruption and oppression through fresh eyes. We question everything including some of the people we know.

We find our tribe and trim the fat. We cry, mourn, we share, we yell, we hope, we surf.

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