After the previous day's "session", I was aching for revenge.
I'd checked Oceanside again, like an abused lover unable to break away from its tormentor's grip, but this time it wasn't surfable.
I decided to take the coast in the off chance another spot was working. The swell direction screamed Oside, but the tide and size weren't cutting it. It was unlikely any other spot would be worth surfing. The farther you go south, the more the coast bends to the west, and away from the south. This means the swell refracts toward shore, sapping its strength, shrinking its size and slackening its pace.
North Carlsbad had nothing to show. It wasn't until I got to Ponto that I saw something curious. Waves! And they were decent. I pulled over and watched it for five minutes. Another set rolled through. I got out of The Rad and opened up the back, still not believing my eyes. Eventually, I convinced myself to paddle out.
I set up on the outside of three older bro-brahs who knew one another. Because I hate it when someone paddles out straight into priority, I gave them first crack at the first set wave, yelling GO! as I paddled over it and hoped another one was behind it.
There was, and I went on it, but it was too racy.
I caught another one and this one was also racy. The barrel hit me in the lower stomach. I was able to make it to the fatter part of the wave. It was difficult generating speed on it. I paid my dues and got through it, avoiding what seemed like an inevitable fade off the back. There was no power section off which to bank, so I did a weak top turn, descended and soul arched into the wave.
My next wave was fat from the get-go. It also ended fat. I tried to pump through it once again, but this time I faded.
I caught a left which had some foam to it already. The foam hit me and blinded me. By the time I had my vision back, I realized the wave had shut down completely.
My next wave seemed like a quick one, but I was in position for an open corner. I stalled slightly with my arm and the wave enveloped me. I was in there maybe a second before it pinched me and walloped me.
Less than ten minutes later, I got another barrel. This time it was on a smaller, even racier wave. As I was catching it, I eyed its line and made the call to get into a switch crab grab stance. It was the right call. I went into the barrel and was in there just over a second when my nose pearled in the barrel, a symptom of too much weight too far forward.
The barrel feast ended with my next wave. It opened up and I got a couple of pumps in. I was then met with the section of doom which ended my time on this wave by creating a dead end.
I was beat from all of the paddling, so I packed it in.