The previous session's devil wind had subsided for the day, and I was foaming at the mouth to get back up to Oceanside.
I convinced myself to wait until the high tide was on its way down to avoid the dreaded mushburgers
Buc Beach was lying dormant yet again, though I did see a couple of heads sitting low in the water. Evidence there were some steep set waves that were breaking somewhat deep.
I parked and walked down to Wisconsin Street, as the massive, just-shy-of-the-peak high tide was smashing into the boulders. I strapped the leash on then ventured down in between the violent water-on-rock assaults. I got halfway past the boulders when a big one slammed in. I managed to securely tripod myself (a skill honed in El Salvador) and endure the rush of water. The water rushed back out and I took the opportunity to gain some steps before the next rush arrived.
Once it did, I jumped on my board and sprint-paddled, waiting for the backwash to blast me towards the outside. A couple of backwashes aided me in my quest, but then I got stuck in the middle of a long set. About five minutes of non-stop paddle-paddle-duckdive I made it under the last wave of the set.
I checked back towards shore and I'd suffered a two-block migration towards the north. I'd anticipated more than that, so I was in good shape.
My first wave came about five minutes after perching. It was a steep head-high left on which I was extremely late on. It had a line, so I went for it. Upon stomping my feet on the deck, I was treated to a blind air drop. My board fell with my lower extremities following closely behind. My knees extended, but I somehow buckled and ate it.
My second wave involved a left that was about shoulder-high. It was a bit fat, so I descended at less of an angle than I normally do. I caught up to the foaming lip with one pump, then had to hustle to keep up with it. Exerting all of this effort rewarded me with a trip to the top of the fat lip and the sensation of choking up on the board, hoping to descend again and maybe fade back towards the energy "center" of the wave. It was not to be.
I was in position for a meaty right. I caught it and was taken aback by the speed. I was even more surprised at the intensity with which the approaching section arrived. It got there very quickly and oh so steeply. My trajectory was more drawn-out than the section called for and I blasted out the back.
I caught another right, but the result was drastically different. It appeared I had a bit of a beast on my hands but it chubbed out on me.
My last wave of the day was a frustrating combination of chub and raciness. I couldn't get much speed from the wave and the thing foamed out on me. I must have been riding over a deep spot.
The highlight of the day was when a four-pod strong of dolphins come RIGHT towards me. I sat and watched as one of them breached and all four dove under me, re-surfacing five or six yards past me.
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