Wishing to obey my wife's decree of me having to surfing my brains out, I paddled out after lunch. I thought the tide would be most advantageous right around one-forty, but in hindsight I wish I'd paddled out a half-hour earlier.
I kicked my sandals off in the dry sand, then kicked them a little farther up in case the tide went higher in my absence. I didn't dally this time. I checked it for about thirty seconds. The crowd was way down from this morning. While the conditions weren't as good, the surf was more consistent.
I had two rights from the get-go. Both were super steep. On one in particular, I could've stalled from the pop-up and likely gotten barreled, but the prognosis didn't look good from where I was standing. I kicked out, but mostly through the wave.
I then floated, more slowly than this morning, towards Playa Colorado proper. Some mackers would come through but I seemed to be out of position for them. One in particular looked glorious and another guy had priority on me.
By the time I floated past the beach club and to the river, the consistency had seized up, likely a product of the tide.
I got one right on which I had an ok snap, then pulled through due to my not wanting to be a part of its underwater demise and the correlating beating.
Not long after, I got the wave of the session. It was another steep right, but it didn't close out! The initial section was a little mushy, so I bottom turned and snapped. I came back up again and did my best snap of the wave on which I threw a bunch of water off my backside rail. I then went for a third in a really critical spot. I got the feeling I was really pushing my luck and snapped a little early, but still up top. I felt the wave heave and my board and I got a little bit of air and successfully touched down on the water's surface.
I caught a left and didn't like how it looked on take-off. As I descended, it looked as though it would line up somewhat. I tried to avert course from a standing island pull-out to a standard pull-in but was unsuccessful, though I did get a second of tube time.
I paddled for a wave and it was a questionable decision. This wave was a little fat from the tide, a left, and I paddled really hard for it as I wanted to smash the section I was salivating over. I came up with no speed on just tapped it, then fell back.
When I came up there was a massive wave coming for me. I decided to try to beat it but it wasn't even close. I shook my head and swallowed my pride and ditched my board. I sank down and got immediately upended, then pushed way down. Through my closed eyelids there was no semblance of light whatsoever.
Ever since my near-drowning episode in El Salvador in 1997, I've panicked after being tossed around underwater for more than ten seconds. I've mitigated this somewhat by counting, focusing on the action rather than the tumult around me. I remembered this about halfway into my submerged pirouettes and it seemed to work.
I came up, conscious to not bonk my head on my board. Successful, I whipped my head toward the open ocean and, through swirling stars, saw another macker. Down I went again and I got disoriented, but I relaxed my body until I finally hit bottom.
I pushed up, and after my second double-arm stroke felt a twinge of panic begin to crystallize, but then broke through the water's surface to the welcome sight of nothing more in the way of the horizon.
It took a while for me to catch a wave to take in, as I got caught in the rip. Once I did so I was out of there, having spent about four hours in the water today between the two sessions.
I went sandal-hunting and was disheartened to see the tide had come up, way up onto the sand. I thought, no way had I kicked my sandals high enough to avoid Poseidon's wrath. I couldn't remember where I'd placed them but I walked until I thought they were gone. I was bumming. I thought, well maybe someone had put them up for me.
My eyes scanned the sand some more and I figured they were gone. I bemoaned my painful walk home during which I would be stepping on hardpacked dirt with sometimes sharp loose gravel strewn across it and then BOOM, sandals. Some loving angel had taken the sandals I had so carelessly kicked and placed them together, waiting for me next to one of the beachfront houses.
I looked around to see if the angel would reveal itself. It didn't, and I walked home with a tired spring in my step.
I kicked my sandals off in the dry sand, then kicked them a little farther up in case the tide went higher in my absence. I didn't dally this time. I checked it for about thirty seconds. The crowd was way down from this morning. While the conditions weren't as good, the surf was more consistent.
I had two rights from the get-go. Both were super steep. On one in particular, I could've stalled from the pop-up and likely gotten barreled, but the prognosis didn't look good from where I was standing. I kicked out, but mostly through the wave.
I then floated, more slowly than this morning, towards Playa Colorado proper. Some mackers would come through but I seemed to be out of position for them. One in particular looked glorious and another guy had priority on me.
By the time I floated past the beach club and to the river, the consistency had seized up, likely a product of the tide.
I got one right on which I had an ok snap, then pulled through due to my not wanting to be a part of its underwater demise and the correlating beating.
Not long after, I got the wave of the session. It was another steep right, but it didn't close out! The initial section was a little mushy, so I bottom turned and snapped. I came back up again and did my best snap of the wave on which I threw a bunch of water off my backside rail. I then went for a third in a really critical spot. I got the feeling I was really pushing my luck and snapped a little early, but still up top. I felt the wave heave and my board and I got a little bit of air and successfully touched down on the water's surface.
I caught a left and didn't like how it looked on take-off. As I descended, it looked as though it would line up somewhat. I tried to avert course from a standing island pull-out to a standard pull-in but was unsuccessful, though I did get a second of tube time.
I paddled for a wave and it was a questionable decision. This wave was a little fat from the tide, a left, and I paddled really hard for it as I wanted to smash the section I was salivating over. I came up with no speed on just tapped it, then fell back.
When I came up there was a massive wave coming for me. I decided to try to beat it but it wasn't even close. I shook my head and swallowed my pride and ditched my board. I sank down and got immediately upended, then pushed way down. Through my closed eyelids there was no semblance of light whatsoever.
Ever since my near-drowning episode in El Salvador in 1997, I've panicked after being tossed around underwater for more than ten seconds. I've mitigated this somewhat by counting, focusing on the action rather than the tumult around me. I remembered this about halfway into my submerged pirouettes and it seemed to work.
I came up, conscious to not bonk my head on my board. Successful, I whipped my head toward the open ocean and, through swirling stars, saw another macker. Down I went again and I got disoriented, but I relaxed my body until I finally hit bottom.
I pushed up, and after my second double-arm stroke felt a twinge of panic begin to crystallize, but then broke through the water's surface to the welcome sight of nothing more in the way of the horizon.
It took a while for me to catch a wave to take in, as I got caught in the rip. Once I did so I was out of there, having spent about four hours in the water today between the two sessions.
I went sandal-hunting and was disheartened to see the tide had come up, way up onto the sand. I thought, no way had I kicked my sandals high enough to avoid Poseidon's wrath. I couldn't remember where I'd placed them but I walked until I thought they were gone. I was bumming. I thought, well maybe someone had put them up for me.
My eyes scanned the sand some more and I figured they were gone. I bemoaned my painful walk home during which I would be stepping on hardpacked dirt with sometimes sharp loose gravel strewn across it and then BOOM, sandals. Some loving angel had taken the sandals I had so carelessly kicked and placed them together, waiting for me next to one of the beachfront houses.
I looked around to see if the angel would reveal itself. It didn't, and I walked home with a tired spring in my step.
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