My Story post 13

I went on an overnight surf trip with a few of my buddies one late spring weekend, let see, probably was ’65. The plan was to go up Santa Barbara way after school on Friday, surf and camp out overnight and surf the next day before heading home.

So we motored up to El Capitan state beach and camp ground in time to surf the late afternoon wind swell. Really just a small shore break close out for the most part but sometimes you could get a bit of a nice slide. Not much for a 35lb log but hey, they were waves.

I was on the beach when it happened…. One of the guys, Jim, got a short tip ride, slipped of the nose of his board and got nailed by the board in the small of his back. I can still see the whole thing in my head, didn’t look like anything. But, the guy bounced around in the sand and washed up on the beach unable to move. Me and one of the other guys dragged him out of the water and onto dry sand. The whole time Jim is screaming in pain about his back.

We were pretty freaked and couldn’t figure how such a freak thing could happen. All within the first few hours of our trip. Jim on the sand in great pain and seemingly paralyzed. The camp ranger called the rescue guys and an ambulance came to take Jim off to the nearest hospital, which was in Goleta. While the other guy went off with Jim in the ambulance Navarro and I followed behind in Navarro’s old 52 Chevy. My mind was racing, worried for Jim’s life and now mine because that ole Chevy seemed like it was going to fly apart chasing behind the ambulance at 80 mph.

At the ER Jim was warmed up and given some pain meds. The diagnosis was he had gotten a severe muscle cramp in the small of his back. With some muscle relaxing medication and rest he’d be fine. No he hadn’t been paralyzed, Thank God! We were all relieved including Jim’s dad who had now gotten to the hospital. He must have done a good 100 mph most of the way to get there so soon.

Jim went home with his dad that night and our other friend went too. Navarro and I stayed somewhere that night…can’t remember where but what I do remember was the next morning being cold and hungry. So we drove into west Ventura and stopped at the restaurant right past the highway 33 bridge on Main St., which is not there anymore. Sitting at the counter I had enough money for a bowl of oat meal. It was served nice and hot and was nice and filling. And now it seems an odd thing to remember as part of a very surreal weekend surf trip.

D.R.