I skipped my usual check of Buc Beach and Loopholes. I made a beeline for Wisconsin Street and found my parking spot at 5:59. It was EMPTY, a stark contrast from the previous day, but the conditions reflected why. You could tell an unfavorable wind had been smacking it for a few hours. I saw some corners out there and the lack of crowds pumped me up to the point of paddling out.
I walked south on the beach towards Wisconsin Street, aiming to be shuttled back up north just a bit towards a wedging peak I'd spied from the ride. While walking towards the most receded waterline I'd ever seen in Oside, I noticed the very nearshore current seemed to be moving south, the opposite of its usual direction. I ignored this, thinking my eyes must be deceiving me or maybe it's only in that one spot. Maybe that was part of the recessive NW windswell that was on its last legs.
While wading out, I felt a strong tug once again to the south. The only thing I could think it could be is the gnarly rip current about twenty yards to my south. My initial plan was to line up north of it and get sucked even farther away from it by the predominant S->N swell, but it looked like I was going to be pulled into it. Oh well, I rationalized, that just means the paddle-out will be easier.
And it was. My first wave was a left, which I hoped would slow my southward descent. It almost immediately sectioned off.
Keep in mind this is an EXTREMELY low tide, so shoulders would turn into throwers quickly...
My next wave had a really fast line. I somehow was able to keep pace with it, but there was no reward as the wave hit a fat spot and ruined any chance for a reward.
I took off late on a right and never caught up to the speed racer lip.
Catching that right propelled me WAY south. I was shocked after the apres-paddle-out perch to see I was three buildings south of Wisconsin Street. The rip must have slingshotted me past it, reminding me of the Apollo 13 mission, though with arguably less at stake.
I caught one in, then walked about half-mile up the beach towards the pier, but still south of Tyson Street, then paddled back out. This accounts for the fifteen-minute gap between GoPro timestamps.
Seaward glances on my way north were met with the sight of a few heads in the water. It was about six-thirty or so, so this was to be expected. This was nothing compared to yesterday, though!
I caught a right, and looking at the footy, was pleased with the sudden rush of acceleration the quick and hard bottom turn produced. If only I could do it on an oomphier wave though...!
A left came and I hustled down and then back up. The section had steepened far faster than expected, but I skirted disaster and got a little more speed. I weathered a flat spot, then took what speed remained and did a failed credit card air, named for the amount of air I got was about the height (width?) of a credit card.
I caught another left, but this one almost immediately closed out.
I then caught a right which started off slowly, I was patient and the thing bowled up, I went up, smacked it, and lived to tell the tale.
Another right. This one also started off slowly, and it stayed slow. I hit it, but there was nothing for me to bounce off of and I faded. My kicking the board shoreward sent it airborne and the camera recorded an interesting BOIOIONG sound from the leash being stretched out.
A couple more forgettable waves passed and I was over it after an almost two-hour sesh.