I woke up this morning to my cell phone beeping face down in the carpet next to my bed.



At my 6 a.m. (PST), whoever was messaging me had to be in Central or Eastern time. That would suggest it’s someone from my family, or Kirk’s, respectively.

I rescued my poor phone, muffled by the carpet, desperately trying to alert me of the attempted communication. I looked at the screen. 3 NEW MSGS. Yikes, what the hell is going on this early? Certain disaster?

Well, yeah.

Kirk’s parents had both texted me separately about the earthquake in Japan. They wanted to warn us that tsunami waves were expected to hit the shores of California. I got up, went to the living room, and turned on the news.

I sank my chin into the palms of my hands, and stared. There’s not much you can say about a disaster of such enormity that isn’t jaded or trite.

I woke up Kirk. Together we watched for another hour. The news anchors said the tsunami waves would hit our beaches in Southern California at 8:30 a.m. “Well, want to go see it?” asked Kirk.

We jumped on our bikes and sped down the street, took a left, then right through town, and in less then a few minutes, hit the ocean. On a typical weekday morning you’ll see a couple of dog-walkers and the token runner along the walking path. It doesn’t usually look like this:

Kirk and I elbowed our way walked our bikes up to the railing, and had a gander at the sea.

“Wow, the waves look awesome, glassy and hollow,” said Kirk. After weeks of 1-2 foot mush, this was fantastic surf. Far down below, a dozen surfers bobbed in the break.

We watched for a while, looking for any swells that appeared bigger than normal. Nothing. We rode our bikes further south to the next surf break. We watched some more. Again, nothing looked out of the ordinary, except for the rather ideal surfing conditions gracing the shoreline.

Tsunami waves? A total bust. Nothing to write text home about.

This time around, the saying couldn’t be more true. No news is good news. For this, I am thankful. ☼