| Potential rain lurks out there, advertising itself with solid overcast as far as I can see and a damp breeze. No matter. It never rains in southern California. |
| Build number: | (weather-induced abandonment, lifetime start #127) |
| Date: | 1998 January 4 |
| Location: | Venice Breakwater, south side |
| Start: | 0645; abandoned after 6.5 hours |
| Height: | 4.2 feet |
| Base: | 1.75 feet, cylindric |
| Photography: | none, didn't bring weather-resistant camera |
|
"Good morning, Shannon." She's nice and warm inside the lifeguard truck. Solid cloud runs to the western horizon. "You know it's going to rain three-quarters of an inch today, don't you?" "Nah. It won't rain. I'm doing a sculpture." Recent storms spawned by the famous El Nino had rearranged the beach, aided by County bulldozer operators. Together they made life difficult for a sand sculptor; I had to hunt around to find workable sand. I found a relatively undisturbed patch and went to work. The tide timing required a start before dawn. As the sun rose, it found gaps in the clouds east of the beach and struck rainbows in virga over the ocean. With the red backdrop of dawn the show was spectacular. Virga I can handle; I just hope it stays that way.
"I made that!" I looked up. There was the woman from Omsails who'd sewn the half-full form standing next to me on its wet sand base. My plan was for a sculpture of space enclosed by a sort of basketwork. The engineering demands of this weren't great, so I nearly filled the form to the top with mediocre sand. The sky was darkening. Sure enough, the virga had developed into rain, but it was well to the north. Veils of delicate falling water hid the mountaintops. That's fine. I kept working. As the sculpture developed I began to realize I'd let myself in for a lot of work. The outer basket structure would be light and lacy, but the design required removal of all the internal sand. And... as carving progressed I began to wonder if it was worth it; I didn't think it would look good. I've had that feeling before. I kept working. Looking west, I saw the first real storm. A line of dense rain gradually hid the mountains completely, but the rain's south edge was north of me. I caught some flyrain, but nothing intense. I tapered the tower and kept on burrowing. I'd draw part of it on the sand, outline the space, then dig out the sand to make a space. A few sailors braved the weather. The usual die-hard surfers were there, but only the die-hardiest of the bunch. It was getting colder and more damp. The northern storm passed over the mountains and clouds to the west brightened a bit. Then I happened to look south and saw the Palos Verdes Peninsula disappearing behind its own grey veil. That one seemed to end far enough south that it would miss. Again I caught some flyrain, blown on the storm's wind, and kept carving. Yes, there was a lot of sand to remove. The idea wasn't getting any better, so I departed from it for a new area with a concave surface terminated with a sharp cut. The southern storm passed. I was dry and staying warm enough. The sculpture developed. I happened to glance up, over the breakwter, southwest. Where's the horizon? The sea turned green and got choppy. The boats were headed south, beating for Marina del Rey. A grey blot grew, hiding more of the ocean and spreading north and south. That means it's getting closer; I put on my windbreaker and kept working. Maybe this one will go into the gutter also. Sand sculpture involves physical work. It's enough to keep the carver warm under any reasonable circumstances. When this storm rolled a strike right over Venice, conditions rapidly became unreasonable. Rain poured down, hissing into the sand and making nice patterns on my sculpture. It dripped off my hat's brim for a time, then soaked through and kept going. This is southern California. It won't last long. I kept working. When I started to shiver I finally started to look closely at the writing on the wall. There's nothing to be seen to the west. No lightening. No help anywhere. The shivering got more intense, threatening to knock pieces of the sculpture off. A last look. Prognosis: more rain. Even the skimboarder had quit. If I'd have had a towel, I'd have thrown it in. As it was, I just loaded my soggy equipment back on the bike and abandoned the effort, slopping home through the puddles. An hour and a half later the sun was out. By that time I'd had a warm shower and some hot lunch and the shivering was over. I'd live to try again another day.
Original: 98 October 31 (direct to HTML)
All contents copyright 1998 by
Larry Nelson | ||||||||||
ls127rpt.htm 98-December-31