The power went out just before four. I turned on my car radio and was hearing reports of horrendous traffic. I debated staying home and playing guitar but it was so hot...! The news outlets were saying to stay home.
Well, they were right. On my way down to Birmingham, I passed a burned out bus that rioters had flipped over. Then, as I started my way down Birmingham's ocean view sector, I had to swerve around a flaming tire. I looked at Seaside Market just in time to see a brick smash through the window advertising its specials and then the other window went (the one touting the benefits of buying local).
Nope! It was very uneventful. The only difference I noticed is one of the two lights I passed wasn't working. I parked north of Cardiff campgrounds and took a quick look. It was tiny but CLEAN! I decided to trunk it, despite how cold it was the morning of my previous session. I had my 5'5"x20"x~3" Balestar fish with me. I call it malestar, which in Spanish means indigestion. It makes sense if you think about it because I only ride it if I have a bad feeling about the surf.
I decided not to wear a leash as I didn't want the drag, I thought I would need all of my speed.
I walked down the wood staircase and walked south to the next staircase. There was one guy actively paddling for waves and a douche on a SUP. Let me clarify, one is not automatically a douche for being on a SUP, but one has a much higher percentage chance.
He was paddling for everything regardless of his position in "line". I caught a wave and he was sweeping furiously to burn me on it inside of me so I let him have it. Obviously I wasn't going to say anything as it's a stupid thing to do ESPECIALLY when you consider how unworthy the waves are of testosterone-fueled possessiveness.
He eventually paddled away and I was surfing with a family surfing together. Two little girls took turns with who I hope was their older brother or cousin while dad and I duked it out for the "sets". When the sets did come they were about waist-high and closing out, but they seemed bigger because the average wave was upper-shin- to knee-high.
A typical wave went like this. I'd pop up, do a couple of pumps as it closed out in front of me and I'd attempt to kick the board out over the foam. There was a pregnant woman (I give her a 6, not out of ten, but six months into a nine-month pregnancy) bopping around with who I hope is her baby daddy in the shorebreak. I was forced to always watch for her on takeoff as I didn't want my board to cause a late-term miscarriage.
The highlight of the session was the set wave I caught and pulled into the barrel. I got covered up but it was hopeless in there and I kicked my board out in front of me.
I had a near miss with the pregnant lady. She held the board for me and I expected a talking-to but she was pretty cool and handed me the board. I decided I'd had enough and walked back the stairs to chaotic, power-less SoCal.
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