FIVE YEAR PLAN

I have a dream...

I have... vision--an idea that is real for once, not just some half ass romantic daydream about being a big wave surfer, or having a career fighting bad guys, or sailing boats, not just some fantasy... It's real, concrete, well not yet, but for once it's a goal that is attainable, something to chase and work for, something to live for.

"All you have to do is find something to believe in and nothing can touch you."

Is it cheesy to quote Machado? Maybe, but that line from Shelter has always stuck with me, because I've never really believed in anything, well now I do.

You might be thinking, "what the hell is he talking about now, he wants to be a hand gliding champion, or some kind of street performing break dancer," and don't get me wrong those kinds of things are very attractive to me, but I'm now interested in being a real live teacher! Thats right folks--cave teacher--you heard it here first.

Why? Because I love working with kids of all ages and abilities, why? because I'm a kid--period. And I'm not afraid to embrace that, you know that, we all do, I don't need to act like some "grown up," in fact I don't want too, I mean, I want the responsibility of a centered person, I want the balance, the honor, the diligence, the discipline that we normally associate with "adults," but with those things we also associate certain sacrifices that I will never make. I will never act my age--always younger. I will never be afraid to dance, or act on free feeling--watch me at a wedding. I will never cease to imagine--pirate gold, flying fish, and the speed of light... what... I will never stop dreaming into the world, never stop seeing the world through the eyes of a child. I will seek adventure, I will be afraid, and then... then I will be brave.

And so I think I will be able to connect with young people well, and teach them "grown up," lessons, but without the anger, or the blank, bleak, boring mindset I associate with those who have become unfortunate enough to lose touch with their inner child, or true self.

And I'm on my way...

I'm not really a real teacher yet, but, I'm kind of one, anyway, I work with kids at a really cool elementary school. These things were in my mailbox in the office today...

Pretty cool right...

And here's a little video I made with my nephew over christmas, (a real live kid) just days before I left for Hawaii... He's a good kid, very smart, very brave, very curious, and very kind... all the things a person should be at any age. His name is Adan, pronounced, Adaaan... Adan likes traines, specifically Thomas, and over christmas he was obsessed with this "accidents can happen," song, so we made a movie of our own... check em!... look out for guest appearances, from cave grandpa, and cave grandma, "Gigi," also cave brother, cave brother in law "Carlos," cave sis, and the newest cave person, cave niece--"Bella!"

P.S. I still want to ride big waves...

Patsy's Senior Picture

She pretty...

NEW INSEA TV EPISODE...

CLICK HERE TO SEE MEN UNDER WATER

So Sick... and kind of trippy yeah? I feel bad cause I told Ryan I would give him a shark for cutting up the hobie vid, and still haven't, but I'm planning on going for a dive after this swell so hang tight Ryan I'm going to find you something nice. Of course he says he "prefers tiger."

Really though, this makes me want to dive sooo bad, and it makes me miss carolina... the closest I've come to diving as of late is surfing with my Omer suit on...

Which I just realized, was given to me by Ryan a few years ago and I have never gotten square with him yet, Ryan, sorry buddy, I'm going to send you a shark and a shell now too.

In any case keep up the good work Captain, wish I could come back for a day and dive with yall and then drink some man beers and eat some oysters and have a fire and grow a mustache and then go out to Neptune's and then wake up on the beach somewhere and see that the waves are good and go and steal a board from Glaze and paddle out and see the boys going by on a boat and flag em down and end up at Mase shredding with the boys and then stick a couple of flounders afterwards and then go home and clean em up, then in an hour fry em up and have all the crew come over and drink some more man beers, and have a fire and then go out to Neppies...

"It's like a finger pointing at the moon, if you concentrate on the finger, you miss all the heavenly glory."

--Bruce Lee

Tomfoolery with Colin Herlihy

Just watched some sick surfing on surfline. Couldn't help but smile--check out the Honolua Bay vid, some big boys gettin shacked and lovin it--it made me feel like surfing again, and that feels good.

Heading up north tomorrow, maybe for some windy Lani's, or sunset point, or maybe I can just find some little nook wave, well see, either way it's not going to be the same up there now that Colin's gone over to California. I was pretty lucky to have him coach me into the vibe up there on the north shore this spring--I learned a lot from him--including everything from how to properly get pounded at sunset, to how to catch a football while riding a wave on a stand-up boogie, not to mention how to negotiate his old mans, "shenanigans." In any case, in-spite of all the tomfoolery those guys are good people--real good, almost like southern people, but from the north like me. Here's to a rad spring...

Check this little Colin clip--i've got lots of em, so keep your eyes peeled--his surfing is pretty dynamic--big boards, small, fins, no, foam, wood, whatever, the kid can pretty much ride anything, and rip, not to mention charge like a freaking humpback during mating season, check...

quality's kind of shot, cause I had to upload the file straight to da blog, i promise it'll get better in the future.

And here's a couple of shots of the Irishman in da tube--backdoor.

skydividing from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

I got a job!

Now that I'm a teacher, I think I'm going to stop doing things just because I can. I'm saying this because as a teacher I realize why we shouldn't just do things because we can, for instance, I just ate an entire container of hummus with my fingers (I have nothing else to put it on,) at first I was just going to scoop up a bit for a taste and save the rest for when I can afford some crackers, but after a couple of scoops, I decided I was just going to to eat the whole container, why? because I could, thats why, but now my stomach is mad, and I will lie down on my side for a while. If you just do what you want all the time, bad things would happen. So for now on I'm just going to do what I want sometimes, and for the rest of the time, I will suffer the pains of self discipline. Have to practice what you preach right?

In Hawaii, 80's music just feels right.

1:55 is why i will surf tomorrow

MODERN COLLECTIVE - good morning wedge from Kai Neville on Vimeo.

hampster i need a 5'6x20'x2'3/4... no rocker!--hurry up--

Man Movie

I'm supposed to be devising a sponge activity for high-school kids to do when I show up as a substitute and there's no lesson plan, but instead I'm watching this...

Voyage of the Mermen

A Sailing Vessel from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

So I guess there hasn't been to many words on here lately. I feel pretty bad about that because I really enjoy the art of word orientation, I guess I've just been kind of burnt out on writing as of late. Right now I'm burnt out on everything really, I mean literally burnt out, as I think I have some weird form of sun poisoning... my ears are hot.

But enough! Enough about my red ears, and warm fore-head, it's time for some new words, strung together in a manner that is meant to please you. A story. About men and the sea, or rather mer-men, and the bay... the Delaware bay to be exact.

Last summer (wow already, just after those first two words I feel like this is going to be a lame story--I'll try to make it more interesting...) On the 29th summer of my life, I stepped on to a 37 foot sailboat as a boy. (better?) Two days later I stepped off a man, or rather, a Merman. Let me explain.

My father--Emmitt Bostic Herron--did not come from the sea. (Like the dashes there?) Instead, he came from a sandy, piney area of land known as "New Jersey," given this name by a tribe of Nordic Fisherman who discovered the place way back in 1583. (That is false,) anyway he didn't grow up around the ocean, but somehow still developed a passion for the great deep watery parts of the world. Where this passion stems from I do not know, but I suspect, perhaps, it comes from some ancient Native American line that has worked it's way into our blood. (This may be doubtful, but I'm not letting go of it until someone proves me wrong,) in any case he is, and has always been, passionate about the water. Now, I feel it important to point out that I also have a bit of a passion for the water, and for a long time, in my youthful ignorance, believed this passion to be something I found on my own. In retrospect I now realize that this zeal for sea spray and wind and the very song of the sea-gulls has indeed been handed down to me by none other than this very Emmitt Bostic, my father.

Let this photograph be a thing of proof in the matter...

My pops and I on one of his first boats, circa. 1983.

And also this one,

For those of you who might suspect, yes, that be the very "teardrop" van we grew up in.

(Wow, I'm starting to use pirate talk, it's weird how my internal voice changes and takes shape as I talk story...) To continue with the story, let's see where did I leave off... oh yes, as it turns out, my father played a big part in my obsession with oceanic things. (I must also mention that my sweet, sweet mother--Joanne Dunn Herron--god bless her, has also played a significant role in this direction I have chosen, but thats an entirely different story.) So my old man bought a boat, a sailboat to be exact, and a 37 foot endeavor sloop to be quite exact. The sloops name be Windsong Two, never mind about the Windsong One, tis the second time's the charm right, (well no, you might be sayin, tis the third time thats the charm, but nevermind you then if thats the case... lets just say that for the sake of this story--tis the "second" time thats the charm.) Windsong Two, I said, is the name of the vessel, and very proud of her my old man is, for lots of hard greasy and grimey work he has put into her, with the help of both I and my little brother, who dosen't happen to be in this story, but since he's put in atleast twice as much work as I in the tuning up of the old vessel I will include this picture of him from her maiden voyage, just for sentiments sake...

Once again, back to the story. And now let me go all the way back, back to the summer, when, for adventures sake, and for the spirit of the good Windsong Two, my dad proposed a voyage. This voyage was to take place over the course of two days and would require a crew of three worthy men, not including the captain.

"I propose a voyage to you and yours, my good son," my father said to me one day, (actually he said, "hey Brian I want to take the boat out for an overnight trip to Chesapeake City sometime this summer," but It was more fun to write it with the voice of an old britishy piratey guy...,) and I replied, "very well then sir, shall I stir the gentleman," (I actually did say this,) and he replied, "Brian, what the hell is that supposed to mean, just ask some of your friends..." So ask I did.

Soon enough I had persuaded two of the very finest watermen I know: Luke Berkey, and the Slug. Luke was quite excited to join us on our voyage for two reasons, one, he had not really had any solid sailboat adventures yet under his belt, (though he has just about every other kind of adventure stuffed in there, not to mention a few ducks, and deer antlers to boot,) and two, Luke is always, always I tell you, up for adventure.

Slug on the other hand was in for two very different reasons, one being that he knows boats on water like the back of his hand, (Slug breathes boats on water, the kid bleeds marine resin for Neptune's sake, as boats and boat building is something that has been handed down to him (and his brother, who's not in this story either) from many generations of watermen) and two, being on a large sailboat for a few days meant one very important thing to the Slug--Heavy Beer Drinking.

The voyage was to be an easy days sail up the Delaware bay, through the C&D canal, and across to the tiny old-timey water town known as Chesapeake City. It would take us about(there's little Hawaiian kids screaming across the street at my neighbors house while I'm writing this, it's about eleven p.m... kinda weird,) eight hours to get there. Or atleast thats about how long we thought it would take us... Instead it took us about seventeen hours, I'll tell you why.

The Delaware Bay is a very shallow and dangerous body of water. For those of us who are new to it's many moods, it is a place of struggle, fear, triumph, and failure. In any body of water as shallow as the Delaware, forces like the moons pull, and the winds push, have great effect. (Ahh, I'm sick of writing, this story is lame, I'm going to bed.)

(Ok I'm awake, it's morning, and my eyes are almost swollen shut, back to the story.) The Delaware Bay is a very tricky body of water. The fact that it is shallow, very shallow in parts, means that it can "stir" easily--think of waves in a bathtub, v.s. waves in a pond. This fact combined with our constant inability to predict the tide, and the winds never ending variability, led to our having to make a decision quite early on in the voyage.

We set out at around 6:00 am, as the tide in our portion of the bay, the "Maurice river portion," was low then, our intention being that we would ride the tide in and up the bay all day. The first part of our cruise was nice, we were in good spirits, eager to put some distance between us and the land. We motored and sailed smoothly out of port in a straight line running perpendicular across the bay. The tide was on our side for this little hop out into the middle of the bay. At the center of the bay there is a shipping channel, our intention was to turn and skirt the channel all the way up to the mouth of the C&D canal. Soon we reached the channel, and turning north, began to work our way up the bay. Here is a map to help you get a better idea of our course...

Basically, we followed the first half of the red line... Chesapeake City lies about half way across the Canal, so we didn't enter the Chesapeake bay.

At this point we were in good spirits, so upon Slugs request we started drinking beer. Lets call this about 10:00 am. After about two or three beers each (more for slug, no beers for the cap'n) we realized something wasn't quite right. We weren't going anywhere. The tide had turned, and the wind seemed to be changing as well, instead of blowing across the bay out of the southwest as the wind often does in the summer months in that region of the world, it began to blow northwest... directly down the bay, straight out of the direction we wanted to go. Now our nice little six hour sail up the bay looked more like an eight to ten hour jaunt, as we would have to make long tacks across the wind to gain our way up the bay.

At first we viewed this as the very thing I just said (I realize this story is starting to suck, I'm just not feeling very creative cause my face is swollen, and I should be painting my landlords house instead of writing, so I'm trying to rush it cause I wan to get done,) a challenge. And after a few beers, there's nothing more enticing to a man of the water than a good challenge, so we went for it. After a few hours of not really making any way, it became hard for us to ignore the fact that at the rate we were going we wouldn't reach our destination until some time that evening, if we reached it at all. It was time for us to make a decision. Turn back, and enjoy the weekend with our families, or fire up the Yanmar, and try to power our way up the bay like real men.

Yanmar is a company that makes engines. They make good diesel engines for sailboats, been makin 'em for years, and our particular yanmar is proof of that. It's old enough to have developed some personality, some soul, (think the motor on the boat in Jaws,) these are things new motors don't typically have, it's something that only comes with time like a good old bottle of wine, or a nice ripe cheese. In-fact new motors are inferior to old motors in almost every way aside from the fact that they usually work. And it's not that old motors don't work, most of them do, they just choose when and how good, like I said they have some personality, they demand respect, and if you don't give it, then you go nowhere, plus you have to do battle with them, sometimes wrenching for hours, blasting curses into the air and cutting your knuckles to pieces. For the sake of the story and the motor, I will use our motors family name of Yanmar when I talk on him here in this story.

So Yanmar was fired up, of course, of course we decided that we would go for it, we were men, and so we did what any real men would do, we cracked open a few more beers, pinned ourselves against all odds, and put all our money on the old motor that has a history of over-heating. Soon enough we were making way, with Yanmar chugging along at close to full throttle, it seemed like no hardship, be it tide, be it wind, could stand in the way of our glorious stupidity. Then Yanmar got pissed.

After about 6 more hours of motoring and sailing, and just about when we reached the mouth of the treacherous C&D canal, the motor began to overheat. Now let me talk on the canal for a second. The C&D canal, (the Chesapeake and Delaware) is a 14 mile long, full sea level shipping canal. This means that at any moment during our trip up the canal (against the tide) a huge freighter could come steaming down on us with limited stopping power, as well as limited overall maneuverability. This means that basically, you should not enter the channel unless you have absolute control over your boat.

Here's an empty ship in the canal...

If you do not have "absolute control" over your boat you could find yourself in big trouble, as these ships cruise the channel at fairly high speeds and with surprisingly little or no noise, therefore heeding little or no warning for three drunked merman sailors, and one strung out captain.

After motoring and sailing for over 13 hours up the Delaware, tired, strung out, and hung over, and with a quickly overheating chugging and beeping and rattling old Yanmar... we decided to enter the C&D canal. In the dark.

At around 9:00 p.m. with yours truly at the wheel, we started to make our way between the rocks. Our plan was to try to work our way up the side of the canal and if we lost power, to quickly drop an anchor, and if the anchor didn't fetch, as it probably wouldn't because we were in the middle of a huge shipping lane, to try to put the boat on the rocks as "gently" as possible, (no one actually verbally alluded to that part of our plan, but we were all thinking it.)

As we made our way up the canal a kind of quiet came over us. It was almost as if we each chose this time to reflect on not only our lives in the past--the people and places that we each loved--but also on the magic of the moment. As twisted and "uncertain" as it was, there was a kind of magical quality to it, a serene beauty caused not only by our surroundings, but also by our circumstances. We were going for it. This trip was a challenge for us all, and if you ask any of us we might not say it was the most enjoyable time we have ever had on a boat, but the trip did have it's moments, and this was one of them. ( I guess you could say that this is where we turned into mermen, I don't know why, actually I guess we were already mermen, but this is where we realized it.)

After four hours of motor sailing in the night, constantly looking back, checking for a ship to come bearing down on us out of the night, like some great bull elephant silently charging out of the jungle, we reached Chesapeake City. Yanmar held up. When we finally dropped the hook in the back of the basin the clock on the boat read one hour past midnight. This meant we still had one hour to jump in the inflatable and, like seal team six, infiltrate the small town for some whiskeys.

The captain showed no interest in the mission, he had had enough, and I suspect that a little time alone was what he desired most, so the three of us, Luke, Slug, and I quickly changed clothes and hopped in the dinghy. I remember crossing the basin in that little boat with two of my very best friends, feeling like old times--giving chase to the women, drinking beer, and sneaking around the outsides of parties trying to devise some grand entrance. (There was no chasing women on this trip.) Soon we reached a dock and the Slug tied us off. From where we docked we had to jump a couple of fences to get to our most important destination: the bar.

The scene at the bar was winding down, there had been some kind of festivities there earlier that night, a wedding, and only the most persistently drunk remained. It was perfect. I felt like I had just landed on some barbaric island in the middle of the Carib--crowded with riff-raff and dogs. The perfect place for a drink. And drink we did, shots first, then beers, then I don't really remember. I don't think any of us do, and it's probably better that way. One thing we do know is that we made it. We gambled and won. We risked everything for a little adventure and in the end, we found something that had been there all along. Our good old friendships. (And alcohol, of course.)

Thanks

Fin.

The Green Cave

Cavebrother's had a tough winter all by himself up there in LBI, but after a nice trip to the big ol' Pacific, and a little time well spent in the green cave, he's right back on track. Check out his newest passion...

MUSIC TO MY LITTLE BROTHERS EARS from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

I HAVE THE POWER

Just in case some of you were wondering why the Hunters chose a HE-MAN action figure to replace me on the roof of their car...

ELEVEN

Messages

I get a lot of messages, here's one via phone text...

From Jaime and Carol:
"We miss you, so we replaced you with this action figure, I'm gonna permanently fix you to the roof of the truck."

Heres another, this one came to me through the E mail...
From Ed Glazier:

"Good surf here."

Upon seeing the photo, I immediately called Glaze to discover that there was indeed good surf in Wilmington, but the picture is from S-turns a couple of years ago. I think He's getting pissed off at me cause I keep gloating about the surf here in town, something the sea turtle hates to miss. So he sends me a shot of himself in a big tube. He does this kind of thing all the time with fish, sending me texts reading something like... "big drum," and I call him only to discover that he has only caught three short trout, but that he has a friend who plays a big drum.

In any case, I get messages from people and they are funny, so I must post them.

TEN

push play to see what the hamster viking does for work