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Monday, June 30, 2014

6.26.14 Miscommunication Cripples Slump Buster at South Wisconsin

My wife's work is super busy during the summer.  When she is on a conference call, I can't surf.  When she has to go on a trip, I'm going with her.  The vast majority of the destinations are places where it's very difficult or very uninviting to surf.  This month we went to Oakland, but took a little pre-work mini trip to SF.  The closest I got to surfing was mind-surfing the set-up at Fort Point, just beneath the Golden Gate. There were no waves, but I visualized the NW swell wrapping around and refracting into a barrel.

When we finally came home, the waves and Raquel's schedule alternated in making sure I stayed dry.  I got a couple of great skimboarding sessions in, as that's something you can have fun with on any peak of a high tide, but no paddle time.

That finally came to an end on this morning.

I decided to stick to the nether, south of Wisconsin, waves due to the not-so-great quality-to-crowd ratio elsewhere.

I paddled out and I didn't have a chance to perch before I caught my first wave.  I pumped and pumped, and it was a little flat at first, but then bared its teeth.  I saw a ramp and I launched enough to release my fins but had too much weight on my heels to land it.  Still, not a bad way to restart my surf career...

I caught another wave that seemed to have a shoulder, but as I ascended with the intent of eviscerating the lip took its sweet time and the adjacent wall lacked oomph.  I turned with very little speed and sent a rooster tail with the thinness of an eleven-year-old Indian boy's moustache.

The last wave I remember catching was a steep, racy one that flattened out.  Just before it flattened out, I prematurely decided to lay into a roundhouse cutback.  The section was too steep for it and I turned it into a carve which felt awkward.

I mixed up the times and couldn't remember if I had to be back home by 730 or 9, but rather than risk Raquel's wrath (and her colleagues being showered with baby noises), I cut my session short.   It turned out the 730 call was for the next day.  Bummer.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

6.5.14 Only Dude Trunking it at Mavs

I was greeted with a couple of dozen bobbing heads whose bodies were enveloped in black neoprene.

I was on my seldom surfed 5'11" CI thruster.  I made a point to go a little away from most of the crowd.

The crowd was made up of some familiar faces.  From sessions past I spotted smily mustachioed Filipino dude and Peroxide Pat, whose bright hair reflects glare rivaling that of the sun.

I managed to snag my share of waves.

I got a left on which I made it around the initial section, but when I bottom-turned I had a brain fart and quickly ran out of wave. I was about twenty percent of the way through the turn when I was up and over.

I caught a couple of other lefts which either closed out on me or I immediately kicked out on, not in the mood for a no-way-out crab grab barrel.

The absolute highlight came on an A-Frame nugget.  I was a little too deep on the left, so I went right.  I had a glorious view of the wave opening up to me.  I rose and absolutely smashed the lip.  I got hung up on it for so long I thought I was going to fade off the back, but I made it back down, out of runway.

After about a half-hour (the surf report said the water temp was 62, which seems about three degrees too low), I got cold and bailed.

6.4.14 Short Trunk-It Sesh at Miramar

I was on limited time, and I was aching to surf.  I was on my way to check Harbor due to the low tide when I suffered what could kindly be described as technical difficulties.  I went from the street to the sidewalk so I wouldn't be in the way of the car turning right behind me.  I didn't jump the curb or do anything crazy, I took the curb cut up and out of the corner of my eye I caught my surfboard literally nosediving.  My adrenalin kicked in and I opted against reaching for it, as my mind made a snap decision that could lead to me crashing (it would have been the best course of action in hindsight).

I steered the bike so it was right on the edge of the sidewalk and applied the brake.  I watched helplessly, or so it felt, as the nose of my board skidded in the grass and dirt to my right.

I surveyed the damage and the board was scratched but not dinged.

I stuffed the horizontal bar as best I could and continued on my way, with one hand on my board.  I nervously went down Seagaze towards the "boardwalk", not an easy task while holding the bike steady with one hand while engaging the coaster brakes.  I stopped when I saw some waves and fiddled with that damn loose bar.  After a solid minute, I had it in there well and tight. 

I rode all the way to Harbor and that looked worse than I'd seen when I was pulled over.  What caught my eye was the lefts off Mira Mar street.  On my way back from Harbor, I pulled in and anchored my bike to an ancient taxpayer-subsidized bbq grill.

I paddled out to a completely empty lineup. I was reminded on this paddle-out, my first sans wetsuit one in almost nine months, how much easier it is to paddle without a wetsuit.  Normally when I paddle out, my arms start burning towards the end of my journey past the waves.  I felt so free.  I wonder if this is how women feel when they go braless...

My first and best wave happened less than thirty seconds after perching.  I dropped down the initial steep section and rounded the corner.  I snapped it well, then descended.  I pumped once or twice to make the connection and once I did, I was rewarded with a soft section of the right meeting me.  I tapped it so as not to overdo it but my fins lost purchase in the foam.

I caught a couple of others, both closeouts, then bailed.  I had an early appointment to get to.