After mulling it over since five in the morning, I decided to risk various infections by paddling out this morning, after one of the biggest storms in the last five years. They say to avoid contact with the ocean 48-72 hours after a rain. If you really think about it, as a storm continues, the "land pollution" swept into the storm drains lessens. The first rain of the season is always the hairiest one, so on a macro level, you should avoid paddling out until three days have passed after that one. On a micro level, if it has been raining for three days, you're probably ok to paddle out on the fourth or fifth day.
Or at least that's what I kept telling myself as I suited up.
Yesterday's post-brekkie surf check revealed the biggest surf I've seen in Oceanside since I moved here nearly eight months ago. Massive waves were coming through and they had lines to them. It was practically empty, and people seemed to be having trouble catching waves. I jerked my neck to the left, then a little more north, then back south as we practically coasted down the littoral. My loins filled with lust as the waves' curves beckoned to me. Raquel may have rolled her eyes as guttural passion noises continued to emanate from my mouth; I don't really know, I wasn't looking at her.
Raquel had made it clear I only had until 8 to be ready to take the baby, so I jogged down to the 101, then hung a right towards the pier, and continued jogging until I hit the stairs south of Pier. The waves were a shadow of their yesterday's selves, but I was still so revved up from their subconscious come-ons that I didn't care. I would be jumping into their arms with everything I had for them.
As I paddled into the cool embrace of my years-long crush, I began to realize more and more she was not as attractive as she was yesterday. Her curves were a little flatter, and her faces more disheveled. I kept on, the visions of how gorgeous she'd looked yesterday dancing upon my head.
The waves looked ok, but they were bloated. You'd see an open face from shore and go, yeah, I could go for some of that.
Once in the water, you'd realize how they were practically unsurfable. It was weird because the tide wasn't high, it was about mid-tide on a moderate tide swing day.
I caught two rights, both of them head high, within ten minutes of each other. On both I went up for a hit and had to settle for a roundhouse cutty attempt. On both, I had lost most of my speed and ended up just sitting in the wash as a result.
I overheard a bro telling another bro about how good it had been the previous day. He said, "It's the biggest I've seen Oceanside with shape". I cursed myself for having the maturity to abstain from surfing.
A bomb right came through and I was pretty inside. I whirled around and thought about not going, but my last look at it showed me that it was in the beginning stages of merging with another wave, meaning I'd have a little extra time before it got REALLY steep and angry.
Aforementioned surf bro was paddling for it, and in better position than me, makeablity-wise. I had priority and I would be damned if I wasn't going to go after so much surf lust. The thing steepened up alright, but I had no fear for some reason. I stomped the air drop, but so much of the wave had broken to my right that I just couldn't make it past that mountain of whitewater. Surf bro had gone anyways, which was wise because I couldn't have made it.
That was the last memorable wave before my watch told me it was my time to take care of the baby.