I got out there earlier than usual and surveyed the scene when I got to the lifeguard tower. There were peaks up and down the beach, save for my immediate right. The crowds, as usual, were lighter on the southern end of Wisconsin. This is where I headed.
I paddled out in front of the property with the patriotic banners left up from Fourth of July, as there appeared to be a sandbar there. I felt myself froth, much like the session from three days ago, but I did my best to temper my expectations.
I felt as though I was a bit late on my first wave and stomped on the deck. My board couldn't take the shift in momentum and cruelly pearled. I smacked the water HARD but was able to break the fall with my face. OOOWWWW! I thought I was going to get a black eye, which would have been great for having strangers on the street eye Raquel suspiciously while I did my best puppy dog eyes. Alas, I am but pink.
My first right was a bum-out, as it quickly closed out. I flopped over the back.
About twenty minutes of to-and-fro paddling/pulling back, I caught a left that was sooooo sweet. I dropped down while eyeing this beautiful shoulder-high wall, bottom-turned, and SMACKED it, came back down and immediately smacked it again, but I'd waited to long to hit it and just barely faded. This is the sickest wave I've caught in easily two weeks.
A guy to my north had a great right come to him and he was paddling for it nonchalantly. I was concerned he was going to miss it and for what may be the first time ever yelled "PADDLE!" at a complete stranger. He missed it and a couple of people let out a collective groan.
The wave supply once again dried up with the high tide and my comrades and I were left jonesing. I floated down to a couple of guy's who were discussing Josh Kerr's choice in boards.
The waves were really bogging now with the water continuing to rise so I bailed.