The Coast is Not Clear

I hate fog. But especially when it parks itself along the coast and refuses to go anywhere for several hours. It does not make for the most enjoyable surfing conditions. It's like having a tall, fat man sit in front of you at the movies.  If I could have magical powers, I would control the weather and use my powers purely for my own benefit. But the world would probably end after the fist day of my reign. Trade-offs.

Autumnal ruminations

Each successive day is roughly two minutes shorter than the last, which means the post-work surfs will soon be coming to an end. Nevertheless, there is still time to beat the sun before it retires and enough light when I arrive at my destination to squeeze in those magical Civil Twilight Sessions.