Amy Waeschle's Blog, page 2

Candles and Mood Lighting: Classy Love Scenes With Plenty of Spark

Book groups almost always ask: “How do you write such great love scenes?” They especially love the way both the male and female characters are equal players, and the woman’s pleasure comes first. “Shouldn’t it always be this way?” I always reply.

The following are 10 tips to writing great sex scenes:

First, establish the chemistry between the characters. This needs to be built in to the story long before they slip between the sheets. Sure, physical attraction is important, but great romance has depth. A person might admire their lover for something they stand for, or for something they have endured, such as a hardship. Empathy mixed with desire is powerful.
I like to play with the power dynamics between male and female. There’s nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she wants! Or a shy guy eager to please but doesn’t know how.
Use your past experiences as a way to remember what the beginning was like. As a teen, did you pine for another person? Were you spurned? Did you have awkward encounters in the dark? Dive back into those thoughts and emotions and recreate them to suit your characters’ needs.
Go easy on the language. Nothing kills a good love buzz than the P-word. Readers have excellent imaginations, and subtle word play allows them to fill in the blanks. Also go easy on the Harlequin terms like “his manhood” and “her velvety folds”. Yuck.
All of the great lovers in my life have prioritized my enjoyment before their own. While some believe this is fantasy, it doesn’t have to be.
The best love scenes I’ve ever written happen when I’m truly feeling free, which means my kids are out of the house and I’m not worried that my husband is going to come in and ask me about what we’re making for dinner. So, don’t try to write a passionate love scene when you can be interrupted. Find a hidden corner of a library, with headphones playing your favorite mood music, or a friend’s empty house that you’ve offered to watch for the weekend. Light candles for ambiance, sip a glass of wine.
Some writers get inspired by pornography. I supposed this can get the juices flowing if this is your thing. Pinterest is actually a great place to build scenes. I have made story boards of couples kissing or being affectionate mixed with settings I like. You can check out my story board for Going Over the Falls here.
Think beyond the bed. While the bed is obvious place to set a love scene, it’s perfectly acceptable to imagine other interesting places as long as it fits the story. Are the characters in a rush? Feeling playful in a new setting? Or does one kiss lead to another and suddenly the bedroom just seems too damn far away?
Sex without tenderness tends to have more of an “erotica” feel to it, which is fine if that’s where you’re going. Readers enjoy the physical thrill of a building climax, but it’s the connection that makes love scenes meaningful. Real intimacy makes us emotionally vulnerable; receiving a simple caress (on the arm or neck) is incredibly grounding.
If you’re really stuck, check out this post by author coach Jennie Nash on Huff Post, or this book by Elizabeth Benedict: The Joy of Writing Sex Scenes.

Whatever your characters get into, may it be passionate, grounding, and interesting. If you have a favorite sex scene, please send it my way!

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How To Write a Book in 30 Days

Coffee and a writing pad, a match made in heaven

Beginning a new book is the hardest task a writer faces. After months of daydreaming, researching, and dreaming up scenes, it’s time to get them all out neat and organized and into book form so people can enjoy it. Sounds easy, right? Well, it’s terrifying. It feels like embarking on a journey to an unknown planet. The pressure to execute it perfectly is intense.

After my first novel, Going Over the Falls, took me almost a decade to finish, I knew I needed to change the way I wrote. For my second book, Love in the Time of Surfing, I wanted to write faster. I researched how other authors who have managed to produce two or even three, four, books per year work. Their system sounded painful–it meant I had to outline (I normally like to fly by the seat of my pants) but I decided to try it…and it worked! Thankfully, it wasn’t the type of outline I remember writing for my high school essays. I wrote down all the scenes flooding into my head for the story–no judgement or editing, just scribbled them all down on 5 x 7 index cards. Then, I sifted through them and put the scenes in order, adding or subtracting as needed. Then, I was ready to start writing.

I had a goal to finish in 30 days. Hey, other people do it, so I thought I could too! Because I also still work part time, and am still a mom and wife, it took me four months. But that’s better than 10 years, right? I started LITTOS in January and finished in May, and it was published June 1. The best part is that it shot to the top of its category, reaching #1 and the top 10 in the other two. So that fear of producing a crappy book if I worked via an organized system? Debunked.

After writing all of my scenes on cards, I created this master flow sheet. It’s fluid (you can see the eraser marks) which is why I love mechanical pencils!

I’m about 1/3 the way through the prequel, Meet Me on the Mountain. It is such a joy to write the “story before the story” and I love the setting, which is the University District in Seattle and the Cascade mountains. My characters walk the halls I walked as a student, ski the same mountain slopes, drink coffee at cafes I used to study at, and live in neighborhoods just like mine as a student. This time, after I finished my index card outline, I decided to add one more step to my process, which is to write out a flow chart of the scenes so I can see them all on one page, complete with the dates. This gives me a bird’s eye view of the story and has been immensely helpful.

I write best in the early morning, from about 4:30am to when my family gets up at around 7am. This morning, I was able to get out 2,000 words. I’m at such a good part! Cassidy and Pete have had their first ski date and are having dinner together before, well…I won’t spoil it with you. Let’s just say they’re quickly and passionately falling for each other.

You might think this system of writing sounds rigid, but I leave plenty of room for the creative process to shine. Sometimes the scene will become something different than what I thought it needed to be, and when that happens, it’s very exciting. And I leave the ending open, because I like that to play out the way it needs to, and I don’t know what that is until I’m there (though I have a good idea where I’m going). If I’m really in the zone, I am able to sit back and let it unfold.

With this working so well, I will have Meet Me on the Mountain complete in a matter of weeks! That’s even faster than 30 days!

Creative ideas pop up all the time, that’s why I carry a notebook with me everywhere!

Volcanology for Dummies

Every book idea begins with “what if?” For Love in the Time of Surfing, it was: “what if a woman gets drawn into a dangerous adventure to rescue her miscreant stepbrother?” I knew that the protagonist was some kind of scientific bigshot, and I needed a reason for her to be in Costa Rica, the setting for the story. In a flash, I knew that she had to be a volcanologist studying Arenal, an active volcano located in the center of the country.

I have a background in geology and a fervent love for volcanoes, but I needed details on the kind of study my protagonist was doing. I reached out to my friends from the University of Washington, where I earned my B.S. in geology. These friends connected me to Dr. Diana Roman, Staff Scientist at the Carnegie Institution for Science in Washington D.C. who has studied a type of earthquake on Central American volcanoes. What follows are excerpts from our many conversations.

Amy Waeschle:  Thanks again for helping me! I am super excited to learn from you. Okay, so the book will open with a scene featuring Dr. Cassidy Kincaid, the protagonist, on the mountain. What would her seismic station on the mountain look like? Can you describe the ground, what plants are growing, air temperature, weather, etc. What does the actual seismic data recorder look like, does it have an official name? A slang or alternate name?

Seismic station about to be installed

Dr. Roman: It generally consists of a seismic sensor buried in a shallow pit (a couple feet depending on how easy it is to dig and how much time we have), connected to a box on the surface (we often use Action Packer type boxes, though usually you only find generic versions in C. America) that houses a digitizer (basically a mini computer that records the signals coming off the sensor, a car battery or two, some cables and bits to run the electronics, and a small GPS unit that logs time very precisely). There’s also a solar panel or two set up on a mount to recharge the battery.

The ground on the slopes of volcanoes can be a mix of rock, soil, sand, ash depending on the particular site. We generally hunt around for spots where the rocks aren’t too bad so that we can dig a deep-enough hole, and we try to stay clear of high vegetation that would interfere with the ability of the GPS and solar panel to see the sky. At the same time, we try to hide the station as much as possible so that people are less likely to find it (batteries and solar panels have a habit of walking off, even in remote locations). In Costa Rica it would probably be hot and humid and maybe even rainy (we work in all conditions). Technically, the whole setup is a “seismic station” and the part that’s in the ground is a seismometer and the entire kit is very delicate (very sensitive electronics and mechanical parts). It’s not uncommon for it to be working fine in the lab before shipping to a field site and then malfunctioning during the install, so sometimes the phrase “piece of crap” gets used.

Why Female Empowerment is My Mission

With everything that’s been made public this last year about female oppression in the arts and film, in the workplace, and in science, my tolerance for this same environment in fiction is zero. I don’t want to read novels featuring oppressed female characters, and I certainly will not write novels featuring them.

I think I’m ready for a new hashtag, I’ll call it #notanymore

I have two secret goals as a writer.

Write stories featuring strong female protagonists. Smart women who do not need a man to make a decision, are not dependent on a man for money, and who are valued for their instincts and intelligence.
Engage in the fun of role reversal: women as engineers, men as teachers, women as doctors, men as the stay-at-home parent. Normalize girls and women being good at math, and boys and men being caregivers.

My books feature love relationships, both romantic and platonic, mixed with some kind of risky outdoor sport: surfing, backcountry skiing, or whitewater canoeing. My newest book, Love In the Time of Surfing, features a complex sibling relationship mixed with surfing, with an added twist that taps into the Central American sex trade.

When I lived in Sicily, evidence of human trafficking was everywhere. Imagine driving down a backroad, hoping to bypass summer traffic, when three dark-skinned women jump out of the trees and flag you down. At first, you think they need help, so you slow down. But then you notice that they are wearing only garish lingerie. One holds an umbrella to shade herself from the relentless Mediterranean sun. Another woman is squatting in the bushes, her back to the road, cleaning herself with scoops of water. As you pass, you realize that of course they are prostitutes. You are disgusted, shocked. Who were those women? Their skin was so dark, like ebony, and their bodies were tall and lean, like athletes. You ask around and discover that most of them come from Nigeria, and are forced into prostitution by an organized crime network. They are slaves, and bring in more money than drugs.

My curious mind wouldn’t quit. What could I do to help them? Could I write a story exposing this horrible injustice? Confronting the powerful men in control of these women was too dangerous. I quickly realized that the only way to tell this story is through fiction. So I have been researching the sex trade in Africa and Europe, and more recently, in Central America. I haven’t forgotten about those women forced to hail down cars in their g-strings under the searing Sicilian sun. They are alive in my mind, and in my latest book Love in the Time of Surfing, which will be published as a free download this Spring.

In this new book, a young American goes missing in Nicaragua after a string of bad choices. But is he dead or in hiding? His stepsister, a volcano researcher named Cassidy Kincaid, is persuaded by a family member to visit the town where he was last seen. But after the death of her fiancé only one year ago, Cassidy isn’t looking for a risky adventure, let alone to fall in love with the man who betrayed her stepbrother.

The hardest part about writing a book is knowing that it will come to an end, and that the characters you’ve brought to life will become part of your past. That’s why I keep writing, to bring the story alive, again and again.

Stay in the know about this new release by signing up for my newsletter below:
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Hit the Ahhhhhh! button

Finally, it’s time to read.

I have always loved books and escaping into one during the holidays (or any other type of family gathering) became my MO as a kid. There are pictures of me reading during family picnics, on camping trips, during Christmas parties, and at many a wedding. I read at the dinner table, in cars, and deep under my covers with my lamp at night so my parents wouldn’t notice I was up past my bedtime.

Sometimes we all need a little escape. I guess I needed more than a little, but maybe all that escaping was a primer for my work as a writer. I still love reading, and stories. My go-to gift to give is a book, every time.

 

My gift to you this season are these four books that are worth your ahhhhh time:

 

Bad Monkey by Carl Hiaasen

This book made me laugh so hard, and so often, that my stomach muscles cramped and I had to keep a box of tissues handy because I couldn’t stop crying. If you are not already a fan of Carl Haaissen’s zany characters and his twisty, entertaining plots, then you are in for a treat. Lose yourself in this tale set in South Florida during your holiday gathering and you won’t care that the lefse is dry or that Aunt Margaret is giving you the hard sell on her new line of skin care products.

 

The Painter by Peter Heller

My literature favorites tend to be dark, and this book’s theme of grief and longing has a permanent place in my heart. It’s about a fly-fishing artist/recluse who uses his anguish over the death of his daughter to take down a local poacher. Not only is Heller, who studied poetry at Dartmouth, a master of prose, he’s also an avid fly fisher. The main character’s run-in with the law during the aftermath reads like any thriller, only better, because it’s so beautifully written.

 

Commonwealth by Ann Patchett

This book about family, and about the consequences of our actions, mesmerized me from the start. Patchett’s writing is clear and purposeful, with complex characters who do things to each other and to themselves that I both understood yet knew would undo them in the end. I felt a sort of slow, sinking dread as the story progressed, knowing something big was going to happen but never sure what it would be until it did, and even then I was shocked. I love that about any story–the ability to be surprised and enchanted at the same time. The way the story plays out in the aftermath of the tragedy left me feeling both aching with sorrow and hopeful. A true literary gem.

 

Manhattan Beach by Jennifer Eagan

An interview with Eagan in the New Yorker sparked my interest in this book. I was curious because the main character is a young woman during pre-WWII who, among other interesting twists, becomes a diver for the Naval Yard in NYC. Eagan writes beautifully, and her characters are rich and interesting. I felt like I was getting an inside look at both what it was like to be a woman during the 30s, and what America was like during that time–especially the gangsters and unions and their interactions. The only disappointment was the ending, where Eagan’s character seems to veer emotionally off-course. But it’s a small transgression compared to the intricately woven story and delightful writing.

 

Book News!

My first draft of Love in the Time of Surfing, my next novel, will be complete by February 14th. The story is set in Costa Rica, and features a volcanologist who is forced into a dangerous mission to rescue a missing stepbrother. Yep, there’ll be surfing, danger, love, and loss. Stay tuned.

 

What if you never want to go home?

After surfing this wave in Portugal, I didn’t want go home…ever

When my husband and I traveled to Portugal for a surf trip, I hadn’t surfed a wave in over a year.

We were living in Sicily, which is amazing, but let’s just say is not a surf mecca. Every now and then, the Mediterranean would kick up some good swell, but it was fickle, and if you blinked, you’d miss it. At that point, our daughter was 9 months old, and though I loved my new job as a mama, I missed my freedom. And I missed my home in the beautiful NW: big, green trees, clean rivers, snowy mountains, rugged, wild coasts. The summers in Sicily are hotter than Hell’s Kitchen and my thermostat begged for mercy for months.

The Algarve region of Portugal offers miles of empty coastline, quaint coastal towns, and free camping. By day seven of our ten-day trip, we had explored coastline nooks and coves, sampled many different waves, enjoyed blissful sleeps atop cliffside road pullouts, tasted great cuisine (and some not so great), and were thrilled that our daughter seemed to thrive on the life of a gypsy.

But we hadn’t scored great surf. And I needed to. I felt like a part of me would shrivel up and die if I didn’t reconnect with my surfer self, the self that could take on double overhead waves with eagerness, the self that was strong and fit and free. So when we stumbled onto the wave at a nondescript river mouth, I knew this was it.

I paddled out to this pumping point break feeling electrified. This was my moment! I moved into position and sat up, watching and waiting for my turn. I knew nothing about this wave, and there were only a few other surfers to watch. The azure-blue walls of overhead waves peeled perfectly, surfers were getting long rides. Finally, I paddled for my first wave.

I missed it. And the next one. And the one after that.

Anxiety churned in my gut. This was my big moment, the experience that would help me reclaim the part of myself I feared would soon be dead. Had I lost my groove forever?

I decided to paddle deeper towards the takeoff. Sometimes, I remembered, certain waves have very specific take-off zones, and sitting just a few feet away from it can spell disaster. It turns out that this no-name wave was one of those spots. But how much longer did I have? My mama alarm was ringing somewhere in the back of my mind. My husband wasn’t used to being with our baby solo for so long. But I couldn’t go in, not yet.

So, with my heart in my throat, I turned and paddled for the next wave. The blue wall sheeted out in front of me, the lip feathering behind me, making that ruffly ffffftttt sound that can prickle the hairs on the back of my neck. I dropped in and sped down the line, barely daring to breathe. My body remembered the movements, my feet danced with the wave’s pace. And I smiled.

So I did it again, and again, and again.

When I finally did come in, my daughter was howling and my arms were so tired I couldn’t even lift her. Quickly, I rinsed off and pried myself out of my wetsuit. Once in my arms, my daughter quieted. Shortly thereafter, my husband and I engaged in one of our biggest fights.

“You were out there for like five hours!” he cried.

“More like three,” I replied. Meanwhile, my heart pleaded with him. Don’t you know how important that was? it cried. Haven’t I earned this? 

After he surfed, he of course felt better and we laughed about it. Meanwhile I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave. How could I go back to Sicily with the heat and the dead Mediterranean and the long days of being alone with a baby? How would I survive without consistent waves? Without my freedom to surf them when they appeared?

The ways I came to find peace are detailed in my book, Chasing Waves, A Surfer’s Tale of Obsessive Wandering. The short version is that a part of me is still in Portugal, and Morocco, and Baja, surfing waves when I please, abandoning my responsibilities when it suits me. But I’m stronger now because of the challenges I’ve faced finding balance, and my life as a whole is lot more interesting. I wouldn’t trade my role as a parent for anything, and my hard work has paid off because my daughters are the light of my life. They’re also surfers, love adventure, and care about our natural world. it’s a win that came from sacrifice, and it’s made the rewards all the sweeter.

Read Chasing Waves

 

In fact, next week we’re headed to a favorite spot in Mexico. My daughters will be surfing warm water for the first time. We’re also bringing our posse—surf buddies and family, and besides sore pecs and sunburned noses and plenty of mayhem, I expect it to be the trip of a lifetime.

Join me on Instagram for daily updates! 

Until then, stay salty!

Amy

 

 

Hardest Wave I’ve Ever Surfed

The hardest wave I’ve ever surfed is a remote Mexican beach break we’ll call El Perro. The wave is burly, and sometimes paddling out can take what feels like years, during which I’m paddling like hell and getting beat up. It’s a beautiful A-frame peak and often empty, so it’s worth the pain and struggle. It’s challenging because it’s sometimes dangerous to get to, and because the wave is super fast and steep. It also breaks jnear a river mouth (think sewage after it rains).

But it was hard because it was the first challenging wave I’d attempted after 5 years of kid duty: diapers, breastfeeding, preschool, and playdates. My husband and I had left our kids behind with grandma and grandpa for a week for the first time so we could go someplace warm to surf. I had surfed quite a bit after my first was born: Portugal, Ireland, Hawaii, but it was different now that we had two kids. With two, and living in the beautiful but surf-starved Kitsap Peninsula meant we didn’t get to the waves very often. I was committed to giving my kids everything I could to raise them right, so that they grew up to be happy, healthy, well-adjusted kids who would want to roam the globe with us when they grew up. But back then, when my oldest was 5 and my youngest was 2, I was feeling about as far away from surfing, or myself, that I ever had.

We arrived in Mexico worn out but exhilarated to see a perfect point break spilling across the azure-blue bay in front of our delightfully quiet hotel. A wave! Right in front, with no one out.

How stupid we were. Early the next morning, we eagerly paddled out, expecting to surf this gorgeous wave. It looked so inviting. What we didn’t know is this was an expert-only wave, with a take-off spot only about as big as a dinner plate and that sucks dry over a fin of urchin-infested rock.

Kurt managed to scratch into one wave, but didn’t make the section. I tried and tried to drop in but somehow couldn’t get over the lip. Or maybe deep down I didn’t want to–paddling forward only to look down at the pincushion of urchins waiting for me if I bailed might have held me back. After only an hour, we paddled back in with our tails between our legs. I couldn’t help thinking my surfing haitus was to blame for my lack of chutzpah.

The next day we visited a mellow point break that, thank goodness, filled my sails. I was rusty, but my pop up came back. My body had changed (thank you breastfeeding, and gravity), but my arms were strong from swimming–something I had managed to still fit into my lifestyle, and my reflexes were still sharp. This sweet and mellow wave helped me reconnect with my favorite pastime and my favorite adult–my husband. After three days of double sessions, ocean swims, cervezas, and many a hammock session, I felt ready for a challenge.

So, at dawn on day four, we followed the advice of a new friend J.P. (the surfing chef at our favorite restaurant) and took the dusty, windy road to El Perro, which eerily passes through a true and empty squatter’s village: half-finished hovels, wind-torn blankets serving as doors, fences made of bone-dry and kinked chaparral. The road was rutted, it tilted dangerously. It dead-ended at a swamp. We backtracked, short-cutted around the ruts, and parked as far onto the sandy beach as we dared. Out of the car, the gnats swarmed. We hurried to unpack the boards, secure the car, and sprint to the ocean.

We weren’t expecting much–beach breaks are often not so awesome. But this wave was peaky and pretty and empty and . . . kinda big. 

I paddled out anyway.

What ensued was the aforementioned beating and the struggle but when I got outside, finally, with my hair stuck in my teeth and my bikini top partly wedged under my armpit, I felt revitalized. This is what surfing is about. The hard work, the not knowing if you’re gonna make it outside, the facing of fears. I only dropped in on two waves on this “hey, ding-dong, surfing is hard, remember?” session. That was about all I could take. I wasn’t will to risk getting caught inside or falling and getting churned up. Should I have pushed myself harder? Of course. This is how I always think after surfing a challenging wave.

In three weeks this peak will be within range–I’ll be back in Mexico. I’m sure I’ll surf El Perro at least once. I’m scared, but that’s okay. Surfing is supposed to be hard. Parenting is too, but the rewards are sweet.

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A Surf-Lover’s Library

The nights are getting longer, the kids are back in school, which means it’s TIME TO READ! To celebrate, I’m giving away this sweet little Surfer’s Library! Click here to enter!

 

AMY’S FAVORITES:

 

#1 Caught Inside, A Surfer’s Year on the California Coast, by Daniel Duane (signed by the author!)

This honest and informative account covers the author’s struggles to become a decent surfer by spending a year trying in the Central Coast area of California. I fell in love with Duane’s writing in this book, which is heartfelt, funny, and sharp. I could relate to Duane’s struggles as he battles the difficult waves, hostile locals, and brutal winters. In Caught Inside, Duane also shares some of his personal life and interesting tidbits about wave dynamics, surf board design, and the many characters and colorful history of the California Coast.

#2 Killer Swell by Jeff Shelby (signed by the author!)

The idea of a surfing detective is brilliant and Shelby delivers a great yarn in this first of the Noah Braddock series. What I love about Shelby’s books are his characters: memorable, sometimes brash, funny, and always heroically strong. I’d love to go night surfing with Noah and have him on my side in a jam. Over the years, Shelby and I have become good friends. He’s a talented writer and I have learned a great deal from him.

#3 Women Who Surf by Marcus Sanders

This beautiful, fascinating book about the top female surfers is a must for any waterwoman. With gorgeous photography and excellent storytelling, Women Who Surf highlights 17 women and their accomplishments, from tackling big-waves spots in places like Peahi and Teahupoo to pushing their limits on the world tour, or overcoming challenges in a culture dominated by men.

#4 In Search of Captain Zero by Allan Weisbecker

Weisbecker shares the freedom, struggles, and blissful adventure in this classic surf road trip tale. Weisbecker abandons his home and possessions in search of his old friend who is lost somewhere deep in Central America. Weisbecker was the screenwriter for one of my favorite TV shows growing up: Miami Vice, and his storytelling is spot-on. I wanted to jump in my truck and follow Weisbecker on this dark and dangerous journey.

#5 The Wave by Susan Casey

I’m a science geek at heart so this book is right up my alley. Casey describes in perfect detail how rogue waves are related to changes in our climate and the scientists who are risking their lives to study them. She also profiles surf god Laird Hamilton and how surfing big waves is as important to him as breathing. I had the luck to interview Susan for a story for Women’s Adventure and she’s as sharp as a tack, a true inspiration.

#6 Murder on Molokai by Chip Hughes (signed by the author!)

This fun read about a Hawaiian surf detective as he tackles baffling mysteries is a treat. This first in the series has it all: great writing, exciting plot twists, and a mystery that opens up piece by delightful piece. I loved the scenery descriptions of Hawaii’s people, culture, and waves. It made me want to hop on a plane (though no burros for me, thanks!)

 #7 Tapping the Source by Kem Nunn

This dark tale reveals the underbelly of the California surfing world, as told from a young runaway’s eyes as he embarks on a quest to find his missing sister. Along the way, Ike learns a lot more about life than he bargained for. I loved his journey from puppy to bulldog and how surfing played a critical role. A classic “surf noir.”

#8 Breath by Tim Winton

Winton is one of Australia’s top writers and this book shows why. Breath tells of a young boy searching for excitement in his small, backwater town, but the cost for the thrills he finds in surfing is higher than he bargains for. Breath is exceptional because of the delightful details and achingly human characters. When I read Winton’s work, I can feel the sea air and hear the gulls, I can feel the character’s heart beating and connect with his or her journey. The ending will break your heart but read it anyway!

#9 Kook by Peter Heller

I was soooo reluctant to read this book. After all, I actually wrote a very similar book a year before he did. Chasing Waves, A Surfer’s Tale Of Obsessive Wandering told of my struggles to become a surfer–fast, because I was an adult and I didn’t have ten years to play around in the whitewash and hope for the best. This is very similar to what Heller attempts to chronicle in Kook. But I have always loved Heller’s writing, so finally, I picked up a copy while on a surf trip to Mexco. Heller’s account of his 1-year blitz to ride a big, hollow wave is told with grit, poetry, and humor and I found myself rooting for him. Kook is like a macho version of Chasing Waves.

#10 Sister Surfer, A Woman’s Guide to Surfing with Bliss and Courage by Mary Osborne

Osborne’s book was the first “How To” geared for girls and women at a time when the sport was exploding with female surfers. She shares her wisdom and inspiration with tips like how to catch your first wave, how to find a surf buddy, and where to find the perfect surf spot. This is a timeless book for any girl or woman learning to surf.

#11 All Our Waves Are Water by Jaimal Yogis (signed by the author!)

Yogis again takes us on an unforgettable ride in this sequel to Saltwater Buddha. This book has more of a narrative feel than his other books, and I enjoyed the story of how he tries (and fails) to help his Tibetan friend. For Yogis and many of us, surfing is the ultimate healer, and his ability to share his vulnerability and search for inner peace will feed your soul.

#12 The Dawn Patrol by Don Winslow

This fast-paced crime novel takes readers on a darkly comic and intriguing path. With great surfing, a twisty plot, and heroic surfer characters, The Dawn Patrol will keep readers turning pages well into the night (and begging for more).

#13 Groundswell by Katie Lee

Yes, she’s much better known for her cookbooks (which are amazing) and her celebrity lifestyle. But she caught the surfing bug and it inspired her to write a novel (hey, I know the feeling, surfing does that to people…) This well-crafted, sentimental tale combines that thrill we feel while surfing with a heartfelt love story, healing, and self-discovery. It’s like a glitzy Hollywood celebrity scoop from People magazine crossed with The Surf Lesson. I loved how the main character finally found happiness on her own terms.

WAP #66: Enchantment Lakes Thru-Hike

Rock cairn at Aasgard Pass

You may wonder what a surfer is doing writing about trail running.

This summer, my family traveled to Oregon and the NW tip of the Washington coast in search of waves. On our first trip, the waves were perfect for my daughters: small, clean, and fun. By the third day, however, there was no surf. Nothing. The ocean was as flat as a pancake. So we built sand castles and swam and painted “love” rocks and rode bikes. In other words, we had a great time but didn’t do much surfing. On our next trip, at Neah Bay, the waves were two feet and the tides were wonky. I surfed a little but there wasn’t much to surf. On our third trip the waves were double overhead and punchy. I paddled out at Short Sands, my longboard drawing some looks, and watched the horizon for a half hour before I realized whoa…what am I doing out here? The waves were a little more intense than the mellow point break I’d been grazing on all spring. I caught one wave that closed out, then after another half-hour of paddling back out without gain, I gave up.

In the Pacific Northwest, it is often this way in the summer. So what did I do instead of surf? I planned a whopper of a WAP.

Yep, a Wild Ass Plan. To get me through.

I first wrote about WAPs for the Patagonia catalogue back in 2003. It was short, sweet piece about how we need wild & crazy plans to get us through. In WAP #96 I talked about how Kurt wanted to buy a van so we could access remote waves and take naps whenever we pleased. Our friend, Rick, wanted to move to Mexico, and I wanted to quit my job so I could write the next Great American Novel. My WAP this summer was to hike/run the Enchantment Lakes Trail, a 17-mile, 6,000 feet of gain trip through high-alpine paradise. The Enchantment Lakes basin is a place I’ve wanted to visit for decades. Life and (now) a finicky spine have thwarted my plans to backpack into this wonderland, so last summer I wondered if maybe I could run it in a day. A really long day.

Turns out, it’s possible. I read a lot of “real” runner’s blogs. Here’s one if you’re interested in tackling this feat yourself: http://www.cleverhiker.com/blog/enchantment-lakes-backpacking-guide. There’s also a more narrative one here: http://blog.cairnme.com/post/94473033594/how-to-trail-run-the-enchantment-lakes-in-a-day

I’ve been training for this hike/run since last summer. I ran my backyard trails and occasionally got out in the Olympic Mountains for longer, more remote runs. I tried to push my mileage and got comfortable with 10 miles, then 13. I added elevation, I learned to run with a small backpack. I read about what foods are best for long runs, and sampled many terrible and indigestible bars (oh, the tummy aches…) Finally, the date of our run approached: Aug. 19th. My friend, Bajda, and I camped the night before in the Snow Lake trailhead parking lot, in Kurt’s and my van. Under normal circumstances, this would have been perfect. Little did we know that many, many other runners/hikers/freeloaders would also be using the parking lot for a campground and would be arriving at all hours of the night.

I was nervous about the next day, so I was already not in a mindset for sleep. I’d roll over, then a car’s headlights would wash over us, and I’d be awake again, worrying that our big van was blocking someone’s entry or exit to the parking lot. Then I’d have to pee. Then I’d start worrying. Would I let Bajda down by being too slow? Would it hurt too much by mile 13 and they’d have to send a team in to carry me out? Would I get diarrhea and get dehydrated and have to poo without toilet paper in the fragile, alpine environment where there’s no trees so everyone would see? And then, another car’s headlights would sweep over my half-closed eyes…

Don’t we look awake?

Turns out, there was no need to worry about any of those things. The van was fine, no D, and Bajda and I found an easy, swift pace. In fact, I felt in tune with Bajda in a way that was so easy I began to feel like we were communicating without speaking. It was joyful and relaxing and grounding. This, coupled with the amazing physical challenge and the stunning landscape, made the experience unique and special. And necessary.

I’ve come to realize that because I live in the NW and I can’t ditch my obligations (kids, work, friends, family) whenever there’s a quality swell, I need to channel my adventurous goals in the directions that I can control. Trail running requires no swell report, no gnarly, long drive, and no guesswork. Mountain biking can get muddy, and isn’t as much fun in the rain, but I can still head out without having to consult a tide chart. I still love to surf and would do it everyday if I lived in, say, Capitola, but I live instead where it’s wonderful for so many amazing reasons. I surf when I can, and dream about it every day.

Halfway! Gorgeous Crystal Lake in the background.

The trip through the rock-scape alpine was so delightful and pretty I still can’t quite put the experience into words. It’s there in my mind, though, and I’ve been revisiting the memory often. I haven’t even been able to run again because I want to savor the sounds of the water moving over the granite slabs, the soft mountain breezes, and the vistas of spires, walls, and chain-link lakes flashing like sapphires in the sunshine. I’ll run again, and it won’t be anything like it was in the rocky alpine, but running still connects me to nature and it’s so quiet out there. Solving the worlds problems seems like a snap.

I hope there’s a WAP out there, calling for you.

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The Messy Joy of Adventuring with Kids

How to Get Your Kids to Love the Outdoors

Allow me to gloat for just a moment. Recently, my kids completed their first-ever backpacking trip, and they did great! They loved the mountain views, wildflowers, and even the challenge of hiking with a backpack. Sure, there were a few low points (more on that later), but overall they loved it and begged to spend two nights out next time.

Last week, we went surfing on the Oregon coast. We like Nehalem Bay State Park for the camping and Oswald West (Short Sands) for the surfing. In the campground there’s a playground, bike paths, and tons of kids for them to meet and play with, plus sand dunes and a gorgeous, wild beach with clear water and soft sand. On this trip, my oldest daughter paddled our old longboard out on her own and caught several whitewater waves all by herself. I watched her, anxious that she would forget all the lessons I’d taught her about safety and timing. But as she took the board from me in the waist-deep ocean she said, “Don’t worry, mom, I can do it.” My youngest, who is timid and two years ago would only wade ankle-deep, rode a wave with Kurt, squealing with joy.

Their success is no accident. My husband and I have been working for years to build the kind of life we want to enjoy with our kids. We started small and slowly added more pieces to our adventures. I’m no parenting expert, but here are some things that seem to be working:

1. Get your kids the right gear. Nobody is going to have a good time if they are uncomfortable.

If you surf in cold water, buy your kid a wetsuit that fits, not some hand-me-down from cousin Fred that is 10 years old. Wetsuit technology is improving all the time, becoming more flexible, faster-drying, and warmer for its weight. A new or lightly used suit will give your kids the comfort they need. We love Cleanline Surf Shop for their friendliness, fair prices, and generous trade-in policy. Last year we traded in my older daughter’s suit and got her a new one at half price. We also got our oldest a pair of wetsuit gloves. A lot of people wouldn’t go this extra step. She wanted a pair so she could spend more time in the water. That was all the justification I needed.

For our backpacking trip, we bought our girls “real” internal frame packs. Elsa’s is a XS women’s Gregory we bought online, and Lauren’s we bought at REI. From my former life as a NOLS instructor, I knew how to fit these, which came in handy because the salesperson we talked to didn’t. Both girls carried about 20 lbs; Elsa didn’t complain once, Lauren I had to lighten her load about ¾ through the hike, which gave her the extra oomph she needed to make it into camp.

2. Pick a great spot.

If you surf, pick a destination with other amenities besides perfect waves: a pretty beach with tide pools, or with a creek to explore, or that has great sand for building sand castles. The point is to enjoy the whole day, whether they get in the water or not. My husband and I traded off playing with the kids for years before they ever asked to go in the water. We both believed never to push them to surf. They either would be interested or not. Laird Hamilton once told me that kids will be drawn to surfing when they see you surf and “come back with a big smile on your face.”

For our backpacking trip, I agonized over where to take them. I wanted a place so beautiful that they would be inspired, but not so difficult that they would get discouraged. I once overheard a colleague tell our boss, “I expect my kids to walk their age.” This seemed too far for our first trip (my kids are 6 and 9…I didn’t want to walk nine miles. Or even six). We live near the Olympic Mountains, which are stunning but most hikes are either long slogs up forested valleys, or steep, hard climbs. I remembered a hike I had done years ago to an old fire lookout that has constant, drop-dead-gorgeous views of Mt. Rainier. Bingo! It was 4 miles and had minimal elevation gain. After we checked out the old lookout site (a knob with 360-degree views of Mt. Rainier, Mt. Baker, Glacier Peak, and the Stuart Range) only a half-mile descent stood between us and our sweet alpine lake campsite. The hike, which would have taken me a little over an hour, took us 6. We swam in the lake, explored the shores, and told stories in the tent as the dusk faded into night.

3. Let them have a say.

Full disclosure: I’m a bit of a control freak. I’m guided by the idea that there’s a “right way” of doing something and it’s hard for me to let go. So, when one week before our backpacking trip I announced that the three of us were going on a walk in the woods (an easy 4-mile practice hike to make sure they were ready), and my youngest came down dressed in a skirt and ruffly shirt, I was seriously conflicted. Who in their right mind would hike in such a getup? But I realized that I had to value her choices, even though my brain wanted to tell her to change into the quick-dry, easy-wash nylon shorts I’d set out for her. Turns out she was perfectly comfortable, and I learned to bite my tongue.

When we surf, it’s time to go when they say so (though maybe not right away). We don’t get to surf very often, so every time we go to the beach we try to squeeze in as much water time as we can. We do our best to prepare for their needs: sunscreen, hats, beach toys, yummy food, water, and activities. But some days they still poop out early. On this last trip, after going down to Shorty’s two days in a row (it requires a 10-min hike with each of us carrying everything) they asked for a day off from surfing. My husband and I were surprised and a little hurt. But we listened—they wanted to just hang out in the campground and ride bikes together, play on the beach and have ice cream in town—and turns out we had the best day ever. There’s a little voice inside my head telling me that the days where they want to hang out with me are limited; these sweet memories are tucked away to savor.

Whatever your passion, sharing it in small doses over a long period of time seems to be a good formula. This is good news for people who believe they have to “wait until they’re older” to start adventuring. Start now! Take mini trips and build up as your kids gain stamina. It shows your kids that adventures are valued. And that they are sometimes messy and don’t always go perfectly. That’s been my favorite lesson of all: experiencing the messy joy along with them.