|My blog coach said I needed more pics so here is a blurry selfie of your fearless blogger with his murda'd out whip|
My first view at first light revealed a little texture on the water.
It was while finishing up my coffee that I felt pangs of what would very likely have to be an inconvenient poop.
Now, am I saying the lack of having an available bathroom would lead to me poop in the water? Absolutely not! But I might jettison some cargo at sea...!
Am I saying being all alone in the water with not a soul being aware might convince me to defecate? Heavens no! But I might just conduct a Viking funeral sans flambé...!
I'm going to have to break the comedy Rule of Three on this one as I couldn't think of a turd one.
I barely took another glance at the point. I really thought this would be the call given the shallowness of the tide. But it was strangling the swell as it came in. Combining small waves with a negative low tide at a cobblestone point is a mathematical expression resulting in short-term depression. I'd have to take whatever the beachbreak offered.
It looked as bad as I imagined. The swell wasn't showing much here either but every now and again hope would be offered in the form of a corner.
My wade-out was ill-timed. A big set unloaded and I lost control of my board. I got a shallow fin slice on my wrist bone before getting absolutely demolished in waist-deep water.
I put on a pumping clinic! I was getting a lot of speed but not much to show for it. I had a couple of floaters on which I held for a while but kept pussing out knowing how shallow the flats were (knee-high).
I had a sick airdrop on a closeout. I wouldn't have gone but I'd committed by the time I realized it wasn't going to open up.
My sickest was my only right. I got a mini-pump in after a late drop on which I thought I was going down. Then I swooped around and demolished it, but ended up going down as my board connected. I was excited to look for my rooster tail of spray signature on the water's surface but another wave was coming and I was stressing to avoid being slammed into the sand.
It got less and less makable. I knew if I went in I was probably done for the day as the point was probably still suffering from suckage. I went and checked it and there was one dude out who caught nothing for the fifteen minutes or so that I watched while walking, then standing on a small cliff.
True to my word, I ended up not pooping!