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Published: December 25th 2007
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In 1970, Scott Tasca and I were 18 years old. Neither of us shaved more than once a week. We weren't grungy. We just didn't need to shave more than that. We both wore our hair long and bleached blonde. We wore bell bottom jeans that rode low on our hips and t shirts and necklaces of shells around the neck. We were surfers and freshman at the University of Rhode Island. We roomed together in Bressler Hall. Neither of us wanted to go to college, but we would have been drafted and sent to Viet Nam if we hadn't been accepted.
Things weren't bad. There were lots of cute girls around campus who liked the surfer look. The food sucked but there was a lot of it. Classes weren't too hard. The climate of the times was such that since we were sending kids off to Southeast Aisa to be killed, they figured we ought to at least to be allowed to drink beer back here in the states. We shared a car too. I forget the make and model., Those things were never important to me, but I do recall it had no shocks. When we drove Ministerial
Road to check the surf at Matunuck it started bucking and bouncing so hard we would come off the seat and go airborne on some of the bumps. I had yet to have my first bad accident so we never wore seatbelts. Our heads would hit the ceiling as the driver's foot left the gas pedal as we bobbed up and down.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in November. We only took classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The plan had worked well all Fall because the surf always seem to hit on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So many times we caught it by ourselves midweek. You could still do that back then. Get good waves to yourself. We were sitting in the parking lot at Trestles. Now they call it Deep Hole I think. Why do those Narragansett types always change the names of surf spots? They did that to Monahans too. I think they call it the Dock now. I think once a spot gets named, it should stay that name. No changing it.
Anyway, we were sitting at Trestles. The wind was blowing from the east - sideshore. The swell was small maybe 2 or 3 feet and it was cold and raining out. Neither of us wanted to go out. So we reread the letter Jimmy Martin had sent us.
Jimmy was 4 years older than we were and he had quit school and was spending the winter surfing in Tobago, an island off the coast of Venezuala. He had a high draft number and didn't have to stay in school. Jimmy had sent us a letter saying the surf was great and that he had a house to stay in and it cost $10.00 a month. That was the total, not per person. He was sharing it with a friend, but there was room for four so if we could make it down, we could stay with him for a month for $2.50. He warned it had no electricity, bathroom, or running water. It sounded perfect.
We started scheming how we could pull this trip off. . By then we were both pretty seasoned travelers. Both of us had been up and down the east coast and to Puerto Rico. Scot had even been to Europe and North Africa. My first trip had been at age 15 with Jimmy and another friend Mickey who was also 15. We drove to Cape Hatteras and spent three weeks driving north checking out all the beaches along the way.
"How much do you think we'll need?" I asked. "Well the plane fare is expensive, but once we get there, it will be cheap. We can pick coconuts and bananas so we won't have to buy much food. I can ask my Mom to take us to the airport. When is your last exam?" It was the same conversation that thousands and thousands of surfers have had for many years.
But in the middle of it, Scott said something that struck me and to this day I appreciate it. In hindsight, it was surprisingly wise for someone so young.
'You know' he said, 'A trip is really three parts. There is the planning phase when you figure it all out and dream about how good the waves will be and how much fun you will have. The second part is the actual doing. And the third part is the reminiscing - recalling all the great times and telling wonderful stories about the stuff you did. When you think about it, you can plan and reminisce for as long as you want. It is only the actual doing that is limited by time.
Thirty seven years later, I realize life is a lot like that. The actual doing time is the shortest period. We can spend as much time as we want planning and recalling. Tonight I'm planning and dreaming about my winter trip to surf in Tortola.
Now my surf trips are much different of course. I refuse to live on coconuts and bananas. I have to have my own bed. There has to be electricity at least most of the time. There must be a toilet. I rent a car. I bring a camera. I bring a video camera. Christ, I've packed a tripod for God's sake. I bring three surfboards, a laptop, a cell phone. I can check the surf on the internet before I go. I buy my plane ticket with a credit card, not cash. My mom no longer drives me to the airport.
Still, there are similarities to those long ago trips. The excitement and anticipation are still pretty much the same. Packing surfboards is still an almost religious ritual. I don't sleep well for a week before because I'm too wound up to sleep. There is that first view of the surf break when you get there. Is it breaking? Is the wind offshore? How big is? None of that has changed.
So it goes and for the next several months, I plan to post my stories here. Hopefully, they will be entertaining to those who read them. Along with the written word, I'll try to post pictures and video.
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Scott
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Life's a Trip
Ok Mike, here I am at ATC Magnet High School March 26, 2008. My 12th grade students are getting ready to take their trigomometry final exam. Stephanie decides to do a random Google for Scott Tasca and comes across your blog. So funny! No so amazing! So prophetic ! So true ! So vivid still, after almost 40 years! I too cherish those days and these days as well. It's so great to know that what they said is not true. "You can't surf all your life" After 40 years, I realize that you can and I'm just talking about riding waves. Though we have drifted apart.... it is so good to know we haven't. Your good friend, Scott. PS. I really think you came up with the "Three parts to a trip" . I still cite it though. My mom drove us. And what a car and Freshman year.