If you watch the news you probably heard of the unfortunate poor young guy who was killed by a shark at an isolated beach just north of Santa Barbara about a month ago or so.
The beach he was killed at is in a rather obscure location, miles and miles out on a long road by Vandenberg Air Force Base. It’s at one of those places that feels like you have to drive forever just to get to it.
I was up there recently myself when I did the drive-forever thing to go grab a few waves, when I was met by a robot impersonating a human being—who happened to work for the government of course—that was locking up the gate to the beach. “What's up?” I asked. "The snowy plover," he replied, as he pointed to a sign about the endangered bird. The bird was apparently deciding to have the beach evacuated because it would like some personal privacy and was in the mood to be alone. I guess we're supposed to grant it all its personal wishes: "People and Plovers Working Together" after all, as Mr. Robot's shirt read.
After driving all that way out there it felt very strange to be barred from the beach by a bird that didn't have enough of a brain to choose the approximately 60 other miles of completely untouched coastline in the Vandenberg base and Hollister Ranch to hang out at. There was definitely some ruffled feathers at that moment and it wasn't the birds.
The warning the sign gives you of a $25,000 fine and a significant amount of jail time will make you think twice about sneaking in another way to grab some waves there, so it was back on the road again to try and find some waves miles down the highway elsewhere. I took a look at the break as I was driving off and thought, "Man, this place looks like an isolated shark haven anyways." Saying something like that after such an experience is usually just sour grapes, but as I made the 1½ hour drive to the next accessible spot, I thought that maybe there is a larger reason as to why all that happened.
As much of a bummer as it was to be barred because of some bird, the place did look foreboding and sharky for some reason. The reason it felt that way, I now know, is that it is!
Someone getting attacked by a shark there confirmed those underlying suspicions.
Things do happen for a reason at times, as unclear at the time as it may appear. After hearing about this poor young guy being killed there by a shark at that very spot, I'm kind of thankful for the robot man and his brain-damaged bird now.
The news reported that the poor bloke's girlfriend had apparently begged him the night before not to go surfing the next day because she feared a shark attack. A divine warning of dire conditions? However you add all that up, something was definitely being communicated to the guy that got killed.
Oftentimes, we have that sense when something isn't right. I was out at Salmon Creek (north of San Francisco by the Russian River area) surfing sometime back, when that eerie feeling came over me—I’ve surfed in South Africa and Australia at spots specifically known for shark attacks, as well as other notorious spots in Northern Californian and Oregon, and never had that feeling once—something didn't feel right while out at Salmon Creek that day, and the thick fog rolling in wasn't helping with that eerie feeling either. I tried to ignore it and keep surfing. Nevertheless, I finally succumbed to that foreboding pall hanging over the scene and split. Lo and behold, there was a shark attack by a 14 ft. great white on a young woman surfer shortly afterwards.....whoa!!!
Famed World Champion surfer Mark Richards was in Japan when a big shark started circling the contest area. The Japanese contest director told him in desperation of the contest being ruined, to please go back out and surf his heat saying, "Don't worry, Japanese shark very friendly." As funny as that was he was having none of it.
Most of the time I don't even think about stuff like this. Now and then however, when you hear about some unfortunate soul being taken out by one of those great eating machines of the deep, especially at a place where you just tried to go surfing and were prevented by circumstances beyond your control, you give thanks to the "One on High" that kept you from possibly meeting the same fate, even as humiliating as being barred from the beach by a bird and a bird-brained robot-man might be.
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