The swell was on the way down and I knew the beachbreak would be marginal. Another dip in the swell and it will be borderline unsurfable.
There was a pack on every peak and from what I could tell after paddling out and perching we were dealing with quite the foreign contingent. I heard Portuguese and French being bandied about.
I missed out on a couple of waves by being too inside of them, as is tradition. Within five minutes though, I caught a good-looking right. I paddled for it and I heard yelling in some tongue I couldn't decipher. I looked to make sure there was no one outside of me, then made quick eye contact with the bellower. His eyes were ablaze and I had no idea what he was saying but I went. I pumped down and appreciated the wave's contour. I briefly thought about pulling in but the section out front was out for blood. I pulled through and out the back.
While paddling back out I noticed how hard I was drifting south after having caught that right.
I caught a quick left. It was really foamy. As I did a quick direction change to possibly snap-stall my fins chattered and I lost my momentum. The thing bared its teeth and threw over. I was bummed, foamy barrels darken the tunnel even further for the spelunker but I'd missed out because of a weighting mistake in my enthusiasm to do something.
I paddled back out and got smacked around a bit underwater and sat. I surprisingly heard a female voice call for me. I whirled around and saw my girls on the sand with my eldest (Raquel) waving me in. As I paddled in I was lucky enough to catch an insider. I stood up on it so Lucia could see me riding a wave and maybe get excited to want to try.
I asked immediately, "Where's Chucho?", figuring in his absence he had been maimed or felled. Raquel said in the car, and that Solani's fingers had been scrunched in a door at our condo. So in I went and that was that.
There was a pack on every peak and from what I could tell after paddling out and perching we were dealing with quite the foreign contingent. I heard Portuguese and French being bandied about.
I missed out on a couple of waves by being too inside of them, as is tradition. Within five minutes though, I caught a good-looking right. I paddled for it and I heard yelling in some tongue I couldn't decipher. I looked to make sure there was no one outside of me, then made quick eye contact with the bellower. His eyes were ablaze and I had no idea what he was saying but I went. I pumped down and appreciated the wave's contour. I briefly thought about pulling in but the section out front was out for blood. I pulled through and out the back.
While paddling back out I noticed how hard I was drifting south after having caught that right.
I caught a quick left. It was really foamy. As I did a quick direction change to possibly snap-stall my fins chattered and I lost my momentum. The thing bared its teeth and threw over. I was bummed, foamy barrels darken the tunnel even further for the spelunker but I'd missed out because of a weighting mistake in my enthusiasm to do something.
I paddled back out and got smacked around a bit underwater and sat. I surprisingly heard a female voice call for me. I whirled around and saw my girls on the sand with my eldest (Raquel) waving me in. As I paddled in I was lucky enough to catch an insider. I stood up on it so Lucia could see me riding a wave and maybe get excited to want to try.
I asked immediately, "Where's Chucho?", figuring in his absence he had been maimed or felled. Raquel said in the car, and that Solani's fingers had been scrunched in a door at our condo. So in I went and that was that.
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