Dune blog

Last weekend sure dumped a lot of rain on us. Enough to have me crouching out in the Tiki bar like the aged Duke Leto Atreides on the water-covered planet Caladan, my mind working to foil the latest Harkonnen plot to disrupt the spice harvest on the desert planet Arrakis.

At least the rain will diminish the chances of Mrs. Blog being devoured by a sandworm during the hazardous desert crossing of what used to be known as my backyard. Now she’s more likely to be carried off to some swampy den by mosquitoes the size of hawks.

Of course, thinking there is any surf here is just about as much science fiction as anyone could read in a book. So being a scientist, and any talk of surf being fiction, I did go paddle out on the longboard and get my shins tubed until the fin dragged in the sand. I rode it, so according to Vinnie’s law of rideability that made it rideable, I guess.

I wish I could give you some hope of something decent for aquatic thrills, but it looks to me as if there isn’t anything on the horizon for the weekend, and the surf forecasting sites don’t show anything interesting until about a week from now. But that’s so far away that anything could change.

You could always hop in the car and make the run up to Hatteras. Frisco looks like it will have something in the waist to stomach range for the next couple of days, and if you don’t have the dough for gas, you can always hitch a ride on a sandworm.