The Unbearable Lightness of Summer

If you remember, this is about the time of year when I start to gripe about summer. I’ll spare you the details, there are plenty and they're well documented here and here and here. But I’m not here to complain today. I want to rave about the great state of California.

I drove up a good chunk of it today and I write to you overlooking the Pacific as the cascading light of the moon blankets the waters off Steamer Lane in Santa Cruz. Several drunken couples are chasséing their way across the sand serenaded by the criss-crossing sounds of the wharf’s sea lions and the metronome regularity of the fog horn. It really is its own kind of romantic.

A week ago I was in the trenches of the US Open of Surfing in Huntington Beach, hosting our two day Factory by the Sea party — which is easily the funnest thing we have going. We had sick bands (Bondo, bloom, Your Favorite Color, Love Fiend and Riley Getz). Sick surf movies (KRTV, Supplemental, New Moon and Vacuum). Food, art and drinks were all enjoyed against the backdrop of polarizing Surf City USA. And while it’s not for everyone, it is important we gather up and hang the fuck out every once in a while and remember that our culture is still pretty great even when we’re not flying down the line on a Pacific Ocean swell

Lately, if you paid attention to everything you heard, you could be convinced that Californians are living in the armpit of hell and paying triple for it. And some of that may be true, things get a little dry and dirty and cringe in August and it's not our prettiest moment and we pay dearly for it all. But the unbearable weight of it is balanced out by the unbelievable beauty of it.

California is still great.

I left Southern California this morning, fueled up on expensive health food from Erewhon, stopped along the way for a really fun surf in Ventura before watching the state unfold before me. Fog and low clouds flirted with the high tide line the whole way while the land cooked and bronzed itself yellow. Red tailed hawks ate roadkill and soared above the tree lines while breweries turned to wineries and back again before we pulled into Santa Cruz, AKA: Surf City: Funky Edition.

I’m sitting here now just appreciating summer. California. Surf Cities. Little foggy waves and the unbearable bummer of it all while simultaneously savoring how awesome it is to be a surfer anywhere, but especially one in California.—Travis Ferré

[Above Photo: Morley Baer]