Posted by Ken Campbell April 17, 2012 4 Comments 1086 views

When I was telling some of my friends at Surfrider about this summer’s expedition, they all wanted to make sure that we wouldn’t be giving away any secrets about which beaches along the Olympic coast were the best for waves. I assured them that we would give out information only on a need-to-know basis and hey, I don’t want to broadcast the locations of secret spots any more than the next guy.
It’s a pretty common feeling, whatever name it goes by. There’s a drive to claim a place as our own, whether it really is or not, to protect it from all those who may follow, without really realizing that we are hardly the first to do so. I got mine, now get out! It’s not always a malevolent urge – in fact, it can be quite the opposite – but it is often a misplaced emotion. “Like a couple of fleas arguing about who owns the dog,” is the way Crocodile Dundee put it.

(And, if I get to the point that I’m quoting the philosophical musings of Crocodile Dundee, you know it’s a lean day, metaphysically speaking.)
This past weekend, the Ikkatsu crew did an overnight to Anderson Island here in the south Sound, a chance to iron out some of the issues we still have, gear-wise and with regard to survey protocol. I’ll probably get into these areas a little more in posts to follow, but over the course of the short trip I was hit by the similarities between the way I feel about our camp location and the way that surfers feel about their secret spots.
It’s not a mystery, where we stayed. That’s a photo of the place up top and there on the right, and there are precious few other places it could be on the island. Whether I come out and name it here really doesn’t matter. Furthermore, it’s not my place. I have no claim, legal or otherwise, to the beach, the lagoon or the uplands. It’s a public park.
But it’s my favorite place in the south Sound to pitch a tent. My favorite beach to watch a sunset from, to have a fire. The beer tastes finer here, the barbeque is better. Even the waves lapping on the shoreline as I fall asleep seem more like music here, more soothing. Secret or not, it’s my “secret spot.”
There was a bit of wind that died during the night. Morning was warm and calm. Steve even mentioned that the only thing wrong with the trip was that it was just a one-nighter. I would have to agree.

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