Saturday, November 07, 2009

Surfing close to home is better than anything!

When I pulled up to *@#$%@* Beach, all I saw from the parking lot was a massive log being thrown up onto the pavement along with a barrage of big beach rocks and foamy water, the six foot cement blockade being moved around like a lego, and a solid overhead wall of wave lining up across the entire beach, with an even bigger set behind that. I was scared to go out, actually. It looked a little hairy. There were lots of surfers in the parking lot weighing their chances and slowly suiting up. By the time I got out of my car, there was another big set and I saw two people getting barreled at the same time, one on the first wave, one on the second. I stripped down to my skin in the parking lot in mere seconds, hiding behind a towel wet from the surf from the night before where I scored waist high play-waves. Before you could count to seventeen, I was suited up in my wetsuit and running down to the shore.

My first wave was head high and very powerful. I was cut off by a sweeper, (stand up paddle boarder) and watched as he stole onto the shoulder and I got effing thrown into the shallow explosion of whitewater. It was one of the first times I got seriously rolled at &%#%^$# Beach. My leash wrapped around my arm and neck and I felt the board being sucked toward the shallows. I paddled back out much more sober and attentive.

The next wave was much better, though again, I was snaked by the sweeper. This time I made to run his ass over, and he got out of the way with a smile. It was a long steep shoulder ending in a backflip off the closeout section of the wave, right before it churned into a heavy shore-pound that tossed two ton logs around with ease. Soooooo fun!

Right before I got in the water, I had called Mariah on the celly and told her to please, come check it out and if she could manage, shoot a few pics. The boys were only just having breakfast so it took her almost an hour. By then the tide was so high there were no more bombs, only fun smallish waves. Still. This is five minutes from mi casa which is so so mui bueno! Normally I have to drive an hour and a half to get good waves.

These are some shots she got that don't depict the amazing power that had been bashing the beach when I first arrived, but are fun anyway. By the time she started taking pics, the swell had been sabotaged by the tides, yet again. One of the consequences of living almost a hundred miles from the ocean. Ah, but that is what makes scoring bomb ass waves SO much better. The rarity of it.
I think I'll set the alarm for 5 tomorrow and hit it one more time before the swell disperses. See you out there?

This was my last ride in, below, and it was tiny but so fun. There is nothing as sweet as riding all the way to the sand on your last wave, regardless of how small it is.