Monday, October 8, 2012
10.5.12 Back in the Rubber Again at D St w/ Missed-It-Mike; September Wrap-Up
It appears my illness was awaiting my departure from El Salvador to kick into high gear. Sunday night, we flew to Miami to rendezvous with my cousin Rodolfo, whom I hadn't seen since 1996, and meet his new wife. They graciously allowed us to stay with them for the night while we dealt with the overnight layover our miles program made us go through. During that night, I had a bitch of a time going more than five minutes without sneezing and I was deathly afraid of making Rodolfo or Rocio sick.
Then Monday morning, we flew from Miami to Dallas, during which I made the fateful decision to partake in American Airlines' Quesadilla breakfast option, a decision I wouldn't regret until the Dallas-LAX leg of our journey. I spent that flight in the twilight between sleep and brain-pounding dizziness, which, during our descent into the man-made haze of LA, reached its breaking point. I snapped off my seatbelt and Raquel protested, telling me they weren't going to let me in the bathroom. Thanks to my years of practice of ignoring her, I deftly sidestepped her attempt at hock-blocking me. The two flight attendants were strapped in and one squawked, "Sir...!" to which I calmly, matter-of-factly replied, "I am going to throw up". Stunned for a beat, the flight attendant said, "OK, but hurry up".
I did my business and was disappointed in breaking my no-puke streak of more than five years and also in only partial relief from the nausea.
That night was nasty. I spent it wrapped up in bed while watching the MNF game. Tuesday was a lot better and I managed to get myself into the gym, but I wasn't ready to hit the water yet. I met up w/ Missed-It-Mike in Oside on Thursday but it looked terrible.
We decided to try our luck at D Street the next day, which leads us to:
On my first wave I had what I am calling my pop-up of the year. I stomped down on my front foot, then rose up for a hard pump and barely beat the pitching lip. It quickly caught up with me and the wave closed out.
My first wave was a left with a tiny barrel. I did my best to switch crab-grab into it. I was able to get my head in, but my shoulder took some liquid trauma, after which my barrel clock had less than a second left on it.
My second wave was a mirror image of my first. Mike was in a better spot for it, just south of the sectioning lip. I yelled for him to go while I tried my luck backdooring the section. Unfortunately, I never quite got into it all the way, took the high line, and slid the fins out in the barrel. This amounted to an underwhelming score from the cliff-top judges.
My third wave was a quick one, and I knew it would be as I prepared to pop up. I stomped down and arced up to the lip for a an off-the-lip/slash which Mike said looked sick from the back but not all that sick on video.
The waves had been pretty weak thus far. Which is why my next wave was such a surprise...
A waist-high left approached and I paddled for it, somewhat gently. I was afraid of overshooting it. Once I'd ceased paddling it, I knew I was in for a bit of a doozy. I grabbed my rail for my third crab-grab of the session. I watched, slack-jawed, as the barrel threw out like a microscopic version of Teahupoo. I got tumbled and then pummeled, but it was worth it for that second-and-a-half of awe.
My next wave was one that was on the small side, but I saw it was about to link up with some juice thanks to another wave piggy-backing the section in front of me. I descended, pumped once, and the speed section I'd envisioned failed to materialized. I went up for a hit on the weak section before me, and made it, but didn't descend for lack of push.
My next wave was a left on which I was never able to catch up to the open face.
Another wave, another pop-up, another quick pump to nothingness. This wave gave me a lot to reflect on regarding the vast differences between ES and CA waves.
A pretty good surf month overall, thanks to my trip down south. I had a couple of really interesting waves the week before my trip. I'm getting REALLY close to having filmed a real barrel that I successfully exit. If I get a wee bit more help from the waves in throwing out and letting me out, I will get there!
Punta Roca 2
La Bocana 2
Pine Ave 2
S. Jetty 1
Wave of the month: Without question, the double-overhead macker at Punta Roca. Wow! I still remember that wave fondly, perhaps like you would a former lover. Not that I would know, I was a virgin when I met my wife and she still calls me that from time to time (in her defense, it IS to make me try harder).
Bail of the month: This would have to be that frothy beast that enveloped me in its aerated arms and hugged me tight, for about five seconds of old-fashioned pounding.