Today this blog turns three. In preparation for such a milestone, we spent the seventeen hours in the preceding days traveling from SD to Playa Colorado in Nicaragua.
I had the chance to surf last night but was content with pacing myself and not wearing myself out. I was most concerned with not having prepared the skin at the bottom of my rib cage for the beating it will endure over the next few sessions, as well as a twin set of rashes on the undersides of my legs that I got from walking for too long in wet boardshorts; I know, real POW stuff. Neither of those have been an issue as of this writing.
I managed to pick up an ear infection but I thought it was on the way down as it wasn't too much of a bother on the planes.
I was able to wake up before dawn and hooked up the leash to the board I had rented for my stay, a 5'11" Rusty rounded pintail. When I headed down to the water I counted four other heads out, all from a panga anchored about 100 feet from the break. The people began streaming out of the condo complex we're staying in and eventually there were way too many people out for the consistency of the waves.
I quickly caught two half-waves on which I had to bail right away due to their closing out, but then nothing.
I began one-quarter drifting, three-quarters paddling up the beach towards El Salvador. The crowds were much thinner and I was eventually by myself. The only problem is the waves were bad. I paddled ALL the way to the south of the pack.
The waves were opening up quite a bit, but the head count was even less in my favor now. I vowed not to go in until I caught one.
After about twenty minutes, I caught a nice right and did two good snaps on it and one roundhouse cutty on which I scrubbed out in the wash. I was thrilled and relieved to have caught the wave and beamed with pride at the turnaround my sticktoitiveness had wrought.
I had the chance to surf last night but was content with pacing myself and not wearing myself out. I was most concerned with not having prepared the skin at the bottom of my rib cage for the beating it will endure over the next few sessions, as well as a twin set of rashes on the undersides of my legs that I got from walking for too long in wet boardshorts; I know, real POW stuff. Neither of those have been an issue as of this writing.
I managed to pick up an ear infection but I thought it was on the way down as it wasn't too much of a bother on the planes.
I was able to wake up before dawn and hooked up the leash to the board I had rented for my stay, a 5'11" Rusty rounded pintail. When I headed down to the water I counted four other heads out, all from a panga anchored about 100 feet from the break. The people began streaming out of the condo complex we're staying in and eventually there were way too many people out for the consistency of the waves.
I quickly caught two half-waves on which I had to bail right away due to their closing out, but then nothing.
I began one-quarter drifting, three-quarters paddling up the beach towards El Salvador. The crowds were much thinner and I was eventually by myself. The only problem is the waves were bad. I paddled ALL the way to the south of the pack.
The waves were opening up quite a bit, but the head count was even less in my favor now. I vowed not to go in until I caught one.
After about twenty minutes, I caught a nice right and did two good snaps on it and one roundhouse cutty on which I scrubbed out in the wash. I was thrilled and relieved to have caught the wave and beamed with pride at the turnaround my sticktoitiveness had wrought.
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