Although I grew up in San Francisco, I never got INTO the Pacific Ocean until one sunny Spring day in 1952. It was after a swim meet at Fleishacker Pool, a huge salt water pool at Ocean Beach. Jim Fisher, one of my swimming team mates, was a powerful swimmer and he said “Let’s go bodysurfing.” We walked across the Great Highway and swam out through the surf. There were good sized waves, and to this day I get a chill thinking of the joy I felt out there. The blue water, the movement of the surface, the power of the waves. I was a goner. Surfing, beachcombing, running on the beach, being on that edge of land/water ever since…
Yesterday I’d been in the studio working on the tiny houses book since 7 AM, so I took off about 3 to walk on the beach. When I got down there, Josh and Kenny were about to head out to fish for halibut.
“Want to come along, Lloyd, we’ve got an extra rod.”
Hoo-eee, did I! It was brilliantly sunny, a bit windy, a fog bank a half-mile out in the ocean.
Pretty soon we’re heading out through the surf and I’m the only one in the boat who’s nervous. We make it through the last wave and the boat slams down, and we’re in calm water. How different the land looks from the sea. Such a different perspective. They fished for an hour and a half (only one bite) and I shot pictures and exulted in just being out there.
Back to the beach for a long walk, shot a lot of pix, click below on “Read more:
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Spotted this Tuesday morning. Could use a little TLC. Note brick fireplace/chimney.
Yesterday afternoon I was getting gas in Mill Valley. A young guy pulled up to the pump behind me, got out and looked at the Velcro band I had across my chest.
“Bad back?” he asked.
No, I said, cracked ribs.
“Would you like me to pray for you to be healed in the name of Jesus?”
Sure, I said.
He asked my name, then came up to me, put a hand on my shoulder and said: “Lloyd, may you be healed in the name of Jesus.”
Well I’ll tell you what. I went for a slow shuffling run that night at the beach (the first in 6+ weeks) and no rib twinges at all. The day before I could hardly walk much less run, without pain.
Hallelujah, no shit.
Now Jesus — about my damaged knee…
SHELTER from Jason Sussberg on Vimeo.
In April, Jason Sussberg, a documentary film graduate student at Stanford, along with friends, made a 6-minute film of us and our home. They shot the film in 16mm film — pretty unusual nowadays. I asked Jason why film, and he replied:
“It was shot on 16mm color celluloid and telecined (scanned/color-corrected digitally) and edited in a Final Cut Pro (a non-linear editing software). The 16mm color film fits the subject and architecture quite well– both filmmaking and DIY homebuilding are beautiful artisanal crafts that are fighting for survival in a changing world. Film just looks better– better colors, textures, motion interpolating and feeling!”
It has been shown at the Chicago International REEL Shorts Film Fest, San Francisco Documentary Festival, Big Sky Film Festival, Cinequest Film Festival and Nevada City Film Festival.
Sirius Outlaw Country music as I drove south along the cliffs of the coast a few hours ago.
Cant get offa this LA freeway
Without gettin killed or caught…
-Jerry Jeff Walker
I’m just an old lump of coal,
But I’m gonna be a diamond some day.
-Billy Joe Shaver, what a great songwriter + singer
Then an old raspy cowboy voice comes on: “Any one a you lily-livered varmints want to slap leather with me?”
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SolFest got so popular that it was too large for the small town of Hopland. It was cancelled in 2009, but is back on this year at The Redwood Empire Fairgrounds in Ukiah, Calif. Info: https://www.solfest.org/
25 years ago we published Aerobic Tennis, by Bill Wright — how to use tennis to get in shape, to have fun while working out. Instead of running and going to the gym, you use tennis to stay fit. The idea was ahead of its time, for in recent years what’s being called “Cardio Tennis’ is this very idea. We’ve just now reprinted the book; it would make a great gift for a tennis player. Bill was head tennis coach at University of California at Berkeley and later the University of Arizona. In 2006 he was elected into the Intercollegiate Coaches Hall of Fame. Available here: https://shelterpub.com/_aerobic_tennis/at_book.html
I hung out with Bill for about a year while working on this book and we had some great adventures. I flew into Vail to meet him and work on the book late one summer. He picked me up at the airport and said he’d entered us both in a race the next day, which turned out to be a rough ross-country muddy 7-miler in the rain (at 9000′ elevation). And to make matters worse, he beat me! Bill’s high-energy, and it’s infectious.
Yesterday I took a chainsaw and my pickup truck, and Marco and I went into the woods to cut up the oak tree that whacked me six weeks ago (to the day). I don’t suffer cracked ribs gladly; in fact I’m a real wimp about malfunctioning body parts. As I’ve been moping around the past month, I decided I wanted that tree. I had a connection…
A few weeks ago, I rode my bike out to where the tree was, and piled branches on top of it so no other homesteader would see that here was a half years’ supply of high quality firewood lying right there on the shoulder of the road.
It went perfectly. No rangers to stop us. I cut it up and Marco loaded it. It was a fine thing to do: we cleaned up the road; we’ve got oak to heat us this winter. As I explained to a ranger one day, this is a renewable resource, so that I’m not using non-renewable resources for heat, like coal to generate electricity, or oil or propane to run a furnace,
I’m going to slab out some 1 inch thick pieces, seal it, stick it, and clamp it to dry, then make a box, or a stool. Hey, I like the idea of a stool!
Around 3 yesterday afternoon, I took my paddle board down to the channel and paddled back up into the lagoon. The tide was going out, and the water was about as warm as it gets, maybe 63°. Parked my board on this sandbar, stripped down, smeared black thick mud on every part of my body I could reach, then let the sun bake it in for a few minutes, then took 5-10 minutes to rinse off. Going back, I let the tide carry me along (plus ribs were not feeling too great). It was totally still, not a person within miles. A young egret with black beak and chartreuse (I kid you not!) legs was standing on the bank. I didn’t move a muscle, just let the current carry me, and I got within 20 feet of him. Back at the dock, fisherman-surfer Andrew was tying up his boat, and loading 3 halibut into an ice chest. Then he jumped in the water and swam around for a bit. A magic afternoon.
Pretty soon we’re heading out through the surf and I’m the only one in the boat who’s nervous. We make it through the last wave and the boat slams down, and we’re in calm water. How different the land looks from the sea. Such a different perspective. They fished for an hour and a half (only one bite) and I shot pictures and exulted in just being out there.
