Saturday proved beautiful, sunny, perfectly windy. Brant and I got in some awesome time on the water before our new friends cruised up in their black 4x Tundra. While Lucy and I hiked the beach between downwind runs, cheese and crackers in the back of the pickup was the order of the day. Tyson, aka The Little Guy, was in Heaven with a half-filled water bottle and anybody who would throw it into the sound for him to splash after it, tail wagging madly. Ryan and Izzy both got out in the water with the kites, perfecting their power strokes and flying, toes on the surface, as they body dragged down from Kite Point.
The Little Guy...Tyson all tuckered out.
When the sun colored the sky like poppies, we reconvened at Site 34, with fresh grouper filets and raving appetites attending. Ryan Cook became known as Ryan The Cook that evening. He transformed leftover salad ingredients and a few slabs of pescado into gourmet fish tacos. Spicy cilantro sauce and stories from the road colored the meal. We told them of our trials and tribs (of which you, our faithful readers, already know), and they shared tales almost too entertaining to be true. Like the time they got away with their camper on Block Island up north, camped in the secluded paradise of the abandoned shores, and Izzy caught a huge sea bass on the third cast...in the buff. We figured butt-naked surf fishing was at least as good a pasttime as wind fishing in the snow bedecked in a balaklava—better, even, cause she caught something—and right then decided to be friends for life.
Our buds on the lawn.
Besides, given what Ryan did with some store-bought, blue-styrofoam-bedded, Saran-Wrapped grouper, imagine what miracles occured with that fresh sea bass and Mr. Cook in the kitchen?
Brant in the midst of a floater.
On Sunday we headed up to Salvo to check out "InstructaMenta's" kite clinic. Paul had a full class of 10 anxious kiters-to-be, and although the day was grey and cloud-filled, there was no lack of enthusiasm for the new sport. Upwind of the clinic, B and I threw up our kites and the purple and yellow sails tangoed through the grey sky. When the rain started to fall in earnest, both road-tripping couples plus Lucy crowded into the rig and lazed the morning away with breakfast burritos. After that, extreme napping was in order, of course.
Izzy dropping in.
On Monday, Izzy and Ryan searched the cape for surf while we commuted our standard two miles out to kite point for the day. We hooked up again on Tuesday, heading out to The Cove (4x4 required) in the Tundra for surf. We just had to follow up that day with an evening at the Mad Crabber again, and even through they didn't have any spicy dungeness or local blue crabs, we managed to have one hell of a good time anyway.
Imagine that.
