Surprise!

This is my very early birthday present! It's really getting to be a drag in this land locked state... knowing I have this great board, and I can't wait to go ride it. So far, it looks like Virginia Beach in Sept. is going to be the soonest I can test it out. So that's only 84 days away... but who's counting?!?!!?

I'm now officially on the hunt for cheap fares to beaches. I don't really think it's all that crazy to fly out on a Friday afternoon and come back Sunday if there are waves to be had on Saturday!

Stone Island

Stone Island.JPG
Originally uploaded by Haska.

Durning our trip, we went over to Stone Island for a "surf safari." It was pretty cool, first we took a small ferry to the island (which really isn't an island, but a peninsula). And from the drop off point on Stone Island, we took a "Truck Taxi" about a mile, through a small village to a surf break. The waves were nice gentle slow rollers, perfect for me! But it would have been kinda boring if you were an expert surfer. The best part? We were the only two people on this beach for miles! If you want to see more pics of the sruf trip, just click on the photo and you can see the slide show at Flickr.

Olas Altas

Olas Altas.JPG
Originally uploaded by Haska.

My parents moved to a house in historic Mazatlan, just a couple blocks from this beach — Olas Altas. It means tall waves in Spanish, though these really weren't that tall. According to locals, the waves can get really huge here when ther's a huricane swell. But becasue I'm a begnner, I found the waves to be just fine. :)

P.S. Look closely, there is a local surfing in the shot.

Endless Summer

Endless Summer.JPG
Originally uploaded by Haska.

So I went on my second surf vacation and I am now truly addicted! I want to surf all the time and am really lamenting that I live in a LAND LOCKED state. Oh well, I get to go back to Mazatlan for Christmas and I may get to surf in Virginia Beach when we go to a wedding in September.

The Fifty

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Originally uploaded by Haska.

Paris' newest hobby. A 1950 Ford Shoebox.

Dust in the wind

windmill.jpg
Originally uploaded by Haska.

Just "found" this photo in my collection of shots today. Seemed oddly appropriate for a New Years' photo.

Flickr

You *MUST* check out this site! , a fancy photo sharing thing.

I love it. You can add photos to your blog, you can share them with friends and family, and you can even create your own groups so that you get all of their photos all the time, too! And the best part is that you can search and check ou photos from other Flickr members and see all sorts of really great stuff!

I wanna ride!

Ok, so the shock and awe of the fall (and the re-telling of the story) has worn off. Now I want back on. Dammit! I kinda knew this would happen ... I always need to go through a period of time to sort of make peace with the incident — fights with friends, major illnesses, accidents — I just need my time and then before you know it, it's all better.

But now, I ain't got no bike and the insurance company is dragging their feet so I ain't be got no money either.

So for now, just the dream of the next bike exisits. I think I want an old Triumph Bonneville or Honda CB450. I plan on tricking it out with Lady Luck graphics, which will keep all of the gravity deamons away so I can safely tool down the road without any worries.

(Photos of 68 Triumph & 73 Honda)

My Vegas Vacation (Or... A Tale of Loss and Discovery on the Desert Highway)

Day One: Escaping the long arm of the law.
On the first day, we loaded up the bikes and headed west! As we rode up I-70 I felt so confidant and excited. The sky was that perfect Colorado blue and there wasn’t any wind. We made our first stop just shy of the turn-off to go to Winter Park to put on more clothes — brrrr! It’s cold. As we pulled back on to the road I imagined my alter-ego of La Femme Nakita on her motorcycle emerging! J But, that may have been due to the mix in my iPod at the time — you can hear everything from Ertha Kitt to Gary Glitter on that thing! (Ooooh! Don’t you hate it when writers make up a false range? Like there’s a distinct traceable line from Eartha Kitt to Gary Glitter? But, hey this is my blog, so get over it!) Anyhow the day wouldn’t have been complete for an outlaw biker like myself, without a visit from Johnny Law. Well, actually it was Paris who got pulled over just outside of Grand Junction. The copper said that he was riding in the passing lane for too long. The funny part was that when Paris was pulled over, I pulled over too. I came up behind the cop car and that FREAKED The Man out! He had one hand on his holster and was shouting, “Stop! Stop!” (Of course, I have no idea what he was actually saying because I was listening to AC/DC and fancying myself a renegade biker.) But the stance was unmistakable. Due to his charm and personality, as well as excellent ass-kissing skills, Paris convinced the cop that he wasn’t cruising in the passing lane, but merely trying to check-in with his wife to make sure she was OK, this being her first road trip and all. (What a sweetie!)

There are two kinds of riders.

We woke up and began our second day of riding with an egg sandwich and a fine cup of Joe from the Green Rive Coffee Co. And if you’re ever in Green River, I highly recommend stopping in for a cup. The weather was beautiful and the ride through Utah’s parks couldn’t be prettier.

But, as the saying goes, there are two kinds of riders: Those who have been down and those who are going down. On day two of our trip I made that fateful rite of passage into the first group. As I pulled off the road into a gas station driveway, I hit a large patch of gravel and the front end of my bike washed out from under me. I went down and skidded a bit across the gravel and dirt road. The bike landed on top of me, pinning me under it until Paris could lift it off. I was immediately surprised to discover that my head was OK and I felt like most of my body was working. (Repeat after me: all the gear, all the time.)

Almost instantly, a huddle of five to 10 people formed around me. Everyone was yelling different directives “Move her up to the gas station!” “No! Don’t touch her!” “Take off her boots!” “Get water!” I knew nothing was broken, but boy, did it hurt a lot. I asked Paris to help me get my boot off so we could see if my ankle was ok. Then a guy who was watching bald eagles just moments before, offered to put me in his van to take me to the top of the hill where the gas station was. Feeling faint, in a state of shock, I agreed. Looking back on it, it was a little Silence of the Lambs, but the door wasn’t shut, and hey, I really didn’t think I was going to be able to walk to the top of the hill. At he gas station, Paris took care of the road rash on my side and the gink in my knee. Amazingly, other than those two injuries, I was completely unscathed. (Again: all the gear, all the time.)

Mentally, I wasn’t so good. I did not want to get back on my bike. But, Boulder, Utah isn’t exactly what you’d call a thriving community. In fact, I think the only thing there is the gas station on the hill and they seemed pretty staffed up.... The bike however, suffered a bit more damage (more of that later) but it seemed to ride all right, so after about an hour or so, I finally mustered the courage to get back on.

The next part of our ride took us through The Staircase and Escalante, Utah. It’s probably some of the most awesome country you’ll ever see. Unfortunately, the ride is a bit scary with a two-lane winding road that has very steep, sheer drop-offs for much of the ride. Because of my state of mind (which could be accurately described as scared shitless), I wasn’t fully appreciating the beauty of the scene. We stopped in Panguitch (rhymes with sandwich) because they had a medical clinic and I wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t going to need one by the end of the night.