Well, I did it again.
I let the surf forecast pundits, the so-called experts, get me excited for the day's conditions.
Because of the devil south wind and the wave-smothering rising tide, I had to get out there early.
I have a theory about south winds being worse than onshore winds. Onshore winds' damage to waves can be minimized by the surface-smoothing kelp beds, if a spot has them. Swami's is an excellent example of this.
Unless you're surfing a spot with a favorable headland set-up (Scripps is an example) south winds will destroy the sea surface.
We are in Spring, season of south winds.
The scuba flag was pointing in a side onshore direction, so it wasn't all that bad. Once I spotted the waves, I was pleased to see only slight shape deterioration. I parked The Rad in the free lot, suited up and made my way to the beach.
There was not much out there. Sure, there were some rare head-high sets, but the vast majority of them would close out. All of them seemed to section within five or six seconds of first foaming.
I walked farther south as I continued to scan the wavescape. I noticed a sizable contingent of spongers out. Many more than usual. Was there an invisible blackball in effect? Had there been a virus that had wiped out stand-uppers, with just me and a few of my brethren left to regenerate our species (not sure how that would work as I saw only dudes)?
I paddled, after a ten-minute walk out, in search of answers. I got my first wave pretty quickly. I was hanging out on the inside after pulling back from both waves of a set. A bump came, and I whirled for it. I got a pump on it, then realized it was hollowing out a bit on the inside. The wave did throw out, but not enough to allow me into the part after which I lusted most. I received a cruel slap to the temple for my efforts.
My next wave arrived ten minutes later, and it was a right. I dropped in and noticed the wave immediately chubbed. I did a weak cutty, recovered and had no choice but to fade off the back.
I was getting in a sort of Bermuda Triangle of waves. None seemed to break and I was heading towards the pier on the current, where there was nothing much better.
I decided to go in and hoof it back south. On my way to The Strand, the beachfront street, I found an almost empty tin container of Mexican candy someone had left. I picked it up. I noticed a cigarette butt, then another, then another. I started piling them into the candy container until it was full. I couldn't believe how many cigarette butts there were. And this is in a country with $1000 fine for littering! I was pretty disgusted by my species. I found a trash can, continued to walk and practically shed a tear
I composed myself and paddled back out.
I caught a left on which I had the good fortune of watching it close out.
On my way back out from the last wave, I got a look at a quick left on the inside, where the only juice seemed to be, and pumped once, then levitated up to the falling lip. I floated for less than two seconds, then airdropped down, consciously attempting to match the angle of my board with the slope of the wave. I was successful, as evidenced by the burst of speed I enjoyed. There was nothing to hit, so I kicked out, amped.
My last wave was another close-out.