I’m sure the locals are’nt particularly happy about having an eye in the sky over one of their more fickle, adored spots, but Sandspit really isn’t a secret. I mean, any wandering, stumbling kook can find it with relative ease. Just to the left, out of frame of the shot below, is the Santa Barbara Pier, which leads you into State Street. Thursday nights. Grab a stiffy at Joe’s Cafe to start the night. Yar!
Santa Barbara is one of those rare places where everyone seems to surf well. With its wide variety of points, rocks, beaches, and cold water it breeds seasoned, polished surfers. You better surf well with the crowd sizes that amass at a place like Rincon, or Sandspit. I’ve had plenty of one-wave sessions at Rincon. I’ve also fished for crab just off that pier, which probably wasn’t the greatest idea. We ate it, though. Look at that water. Earaches and sore throats all around!
I’ll take whatever she’s handing out. She’s bonafide. She’s got that ticket to ride. She’ll slap your ass, call you Sally, and leave you with a diaper full of sand to take home. Weeks later you’ll still be finding grains. You’ll be glad, though, because with each found grain, you’ll remember that little dredger that swallowed you whole. Smile, go ahead. She stuffed you down her gullet like a pelican does a herring.
Tell me, are these clips identical? Might just be.
Drones are a dangerous game on the central coast. I don’t want ’em there. I also don’t not want them there. If I had my choice, though, I’d get a nice little plot of land and plant me some avocado trees. Maybe some sheep, a horse or two. Dang, that sounds nice.