Seriously?

[Written Tuesday, 10/11 during blackout]

The purpose of this trip was of course one of spiritual odyssey and discovery, a-once-in-a-lifetime-adventure, eat/sleep/surf etc. etc.

Of course, the other purpose of this trip was to leverage technology—portable video filming and streaming devices, pictures, Facebook, blogs, email-- to rub 3 months of incredible waves, perfect beaches, and an incredible tan in the face of everyone I know. If you have a job, are experiencing or expect to soon experience winter, or like surfing, beaches and/or warm weather--this means you.

So far, the laugh is on me.

I’ve documented the pleasurable travel experiences that got me here to Burgos. Yesterday, it seemed as though things were turning around. I woke shortly after dawn to see the sun back-lighting the spray off through my window, creating a golden mist above the surf. It was the start to a lovely day, the kind of day I'd quit my job and traveled around the world to have.

I went to bed content after a day of surfing, reading and playing some uke; I was probably asleep by 8:30 or 9. I woke several times during the night to the sound of driving rain and strong winds. When I woke up around first light, it was pouring. The surf was pumping but messed up by the storm, pounding the outer breaks.

It being an unknown break with no pals to paddle out with, I decided to see what the weather was going to do.

Fast-forward to afternoon. It is practically dark. I would say the rains were monsoon-like, but maybe it actually is a monsoon. The power has been out for hours. The winds are now straight up scary. My hut is rocking on its stilts. At one point the wind is shrieking solidly at, I don't know, 40-50 miles an hour, for what seemed like 10 minutes. No gusting, just full on wind tunnel.

I am alone in a hut outside a tiny village with no power, no phone, no Web… At one point during that sustained wind blast, I consider crapping my board shorts. I decide to wait in case it actually is a typhoon. I’d like to make sure I can crap myself if it’s official and I don’t know if I have two in me.

I spend the afternoon in my hut alternating between reading and teaching myself ukulele.

[Sidebar: Let me make my very humble homage to Steve Jobs even though he was supposed to be difficult and personally screwed what would have been an important licensing deal with iTunes for me in my last job: That iPad kept me sane. Seriously. With nothing to do, no light no juice... well, iBooks, iTunes and a long battery was a lifesaver. That guy's ability to marry technology with our everyday lives in ways we never expected was a contribution beyond measure. I know he's building some cool shit on the other side right now... iEternity, here we come.]

Today’s ukelele lesson in the book was a new Hawaiian strumming technique practiced to “If You’re Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands.” This should give you some idea where my skill level currently resides. Once I mastered the proper up/down/up/down/up/up technique, I started experimenting with some new lyrics, e.g. “If You’re Nervous and You Know It, Crap Your Pants.” “If You’d Really Like Some Power, Clap Your Hands.” I couldn’t really tell if I was getting better or not because the crashing surf, booming thunder and howling wind pretty much drowned everything out. To try to put a happy spin on things, I tried to pretend I was playing for a stadium of toddlers, the raging storm outside their thundering applause for my shredding rendition of my #1 smash hit (in the 2-6 age market).

Around 6, I sit down for dinner in the kitchen. Two candles flicker on the table and it’s nice to have some light. I ask Charlie when he thinks we might get power back, and the shrugs and laughs in his warm way. I might as well have asked him who won Monday Night Football. Does he think the storm will blow over by tomorrow? He says he’s not sure. The last he heard, it was a “Category 1” storm but since the power is out, "No radio, no TV, no news."

I consider asking how bad Category 1 is in the general scheme of things, but I figure between the translation issues and the fact that we’re stuck here anyway what’s the point. It's not like we're going to run away. We're here come hell or, gulp, high water. Speaking of which, he relays the creek down the road has overflowed and several houses have flooded—he gestures above his thigh to convey how deep it is over in the Joneses living room. Now, Charlie is a short guy but, still, you don’t want that much water in your house. I’m loving my hut’s stilts.

I’m going to finish my warm beer and hope this bullshit is over in the morning. I’m supposed to go the main surf resort area on the island tomorrow, though Charlie said something about the road not being able to pass the river.

(Editor's note: The next day I found out that indeed the storm, now named Ramon, was officially upgraded to a Category 2 typhoon. They closed schools and everything.)