The south winds were doing their thing again. I hesitantly ventured up to Oceanside hoping for maybe a few makeable, not too crumbly waves. There was a new swell in the water and I had a feeling the crowds would be small.
I parked at Wisconsin and surveyed the wavescape. It didn't look great. I decided to suit up after seeing an ok set break. It was hollow out there and I was hoping for some ramps or barrels.
I paddled out, nary a soul in sight, and this song crept into my head. I dedicated it to my surfboard:
I caught a left on which I was a bit behind the section almost immediately. I was able to catch up to it, then generate a bit more speed before it laid a big fat section to me, on which I drained my speed. Bummer.
I paddled back out, still in awe of my solitude. Not five minutes later, with every other peak completely empty as far as my eyes could see, another dude paddles out and posts up within fifteen feet of me. Then this song crept into my head:
I paddled and missed a couple of somewhat desirable waves. My new buddy caught one and was paddling back out when a big hollow one came. I was really late and thought about pulling back, but the only other guy out was right in the photog zone, and I couldn't help myself.
I threw myself over the ledge in a switch crab-grab and was rewarded with a gorgeous view of the spinning cylinder through which I was threading. I kept my eyes open and on the most vertical part of the wave, trying to read it so as to adjust my position to increase my likelihood of sheer ecstacy: making it out.
I'm not sure why I didn't. I think I was too far in the less sloping part of the wave and my speed ran out. I got thoroughly pummeled, but was amped at my two seconds of glory (note to self: submit "Two Seconds of Glory" to my publisher as contender for title of my kiss-and-tell memoirs).
I paddled back out, but nothing much came and I had work to do so I went back to The Rad and GuyPod.