Stand Up. Sit Down. Roll Over. Play Dead.

NY Times #1,  NY Times #2

It was a few years ago, out in California.  I was staying at G&Ps, celebrating some sort of winter holiday, when I looked out and saw this guy cruising south, maybe a quarter mile out, on the glassy morning water, standing up on what looked like one of those massive old-style sailboard with an oar.  A little later on his way back up the coast he swung the thing closer to shore and paddled into a couple minuscule ripples that turned magically into semi-ridable pound right in front of the house before continuing his way north. The whole thing got me excited.  Not too long after that, Ian asked me if I wanted to go paddling and I had my first couple days on a SUP board up at Dog Patch, the spot allocated to the paddlers at San Onofre.  Ever since I've heard one thousand and one bad things said about the suppers, the janitors, the push brooms, what have you.  I've always tried to speak up on behalf of a water craft with particular uses and a fun quotient of a slightly different kind, knowing all along I'd never really had to deal with the apparently ubiquitous frustrations of being in an undesignated lineup with suppers.  This all changed with more time spent at Ditch Plains.   A couple Sundays ago, I found myself having a great time, paddling out for a thirty minute session, coming in playing with the boy, paddling out for another go, coming in, playing with the boy.  Super smiles, super rhythm, super fun.  Then this goofball on a paddle board strolls over, on the periphery of things, sniffing around.  A nice little set comes in, I was in position as the other few guys taking waves had just gotten theirs, when this jerk standing stalk straight, having just ambled over, furiously paddles, wobbling all over the place and catches the wave about eight meters before any discernible peak.  As he passed, I swore and splashed water at him.  The other guys in the water shook their heads. 
Granted, there is a small host of guys who know exactly what they are doing and seem to "get it," able to exist in the lineup, getting respectable rides without falling at the most inconvenient moment only to let the heavy boards tumble into some unsuspecting paddle-out.  But there are those guys who roam around the periphery of the breaks from Ditch to Trailer Park, unsubtly taking whatever they can get, wobbling down the face and doing their best to obliterate a head or two.
It's a weird place to be for a longboarder, long the target of similar derisions. And this is something I've tried to keep in mind. It occurs to me that despite the worst of it, stand up paddling is totally enjoyable in the right context. But seeing the dark side of the SUP business first hand, it doesn't necessarily warm the heart.