I'd been under the weather for the last four days and despite still feeling some waning symptoms I decided to go for it. The tide was increasing off the depths of the low and I hoped to snag something to make up for the last session.
The wind was onshore and the sea surface suffered some sickness. The swell was on the way down but with a 15-second period I knew there would still be some oomph. Sure enough, my first look from the sand showed some overhead but messy bangers. Most of these were barreling but I didn't see one makeable one while my toes were in dry sand.
The crowd was about what I expected. What I've heard from friends here who are property managers is there are less families coming down but the surfers are still coming. So perhaps there is a slight dent in surfing families.
I saw a sweet left breaking and spitting with no one on it so I paddled out towards there. Of course it had nothing in its wake and I never saw another like it. I allowed myself to get swept south a bit as there was some action there. A wave came and it looked great but I was JUST barely too inside of it. I knew it as it approached so I back-paddled a little but it was to no avail. Oh well, probably saved myself from a sand scrape.
There was a commotion and twenty yards south of me a guy was in the perfect spot for this mysto wedge that popped out of nowhere. People half-thrilled/half-terrified grimaced/cheered as he descended and pulled in. He got completely covered up and immediately sectioned/pinched but had a second-and-a-half of glory in the square-ish barrel.
I kept drifting until it was just me and a logger. I saw him take off on a wave and heard him groan loudly as he got hung up on the lip; he had realized his destiny.
I caught a small left in to try my luck farther up the beach. I went way past where I intended to catch a wave, hoping to luck into a nugget.
Long story short, I found myself floating past it, paddling for some which turned into obvious closeouts and getting slammed by their younger brethren in retaliation. I had an interesting trip down on a duckdive. I got under the wave and it picked me up very gently and sent me backwards and something hit me so hard in the back of the head. I've been trying to figure out the wave action that would allow that but I can't figure it out.
Eventually I got shuttled past Colorado proper, to River Rights. Those didn't look great today (they rarely do). I sat there dodging closeouts and caught a big foamy left with no barrel. I superpumped once or twice and was moving SO fast before that inevitably slammed shut on me.
There was a line at the shower at the beach club and I saw the aforementioned pinched barrel guy. I congratulated him on the wave and described the peanut gallery's utterances. He laughed, thanked me, and said "That's the best wave of my life up until this point". I smiled on the outside but harder on the inside as it's rare for people to show their true stoke, especially an hour after a wave. Surfers these days seem to be so cynical (myself included) and want to maddog everyone (myself excluded).
The wind was onshore and the sea surface suffered some sickness. The swell was on the way down but with a 15-second period I knew there would still be some oomph. Sure enough, my first look from the sand showed some overhead but messy bangers. Most of these were barreling but I didn't see one makeable one while my toes were in dry sand.
The crowd was about what I expected. What I've heard from friends here who are property managers is there are less families coming down but the surfers are still coming. So perhaps there is a slight dent in surfing families.
I saw a sweet left breaking and spitting with no one on it so I paddled out towards there. Of course it had nothing in its wake and I never saw another like it. I allowed myself to get swept south a bit as there was some action there. A wave came and it looked great but I was JUST barely too inside of it. I knew it as it approached so I back-paddled a little but it was to no avail. Oh well, probably saved myself from a sand scrape.
There was a commotion and twenty yards south of me a guy was in the perfect spot for this mysto wedge that popped out of nowhere. People half-thrilled/half-terrified grimaced/cheered as he descended and pulled in. He got completely covered up and immediately sectioned/pinched but had a second-and-a-half of glory in the square-ish barrel.
I kept drifting until it was just me and a logger. I saw him take off on a wave and heard him groan loudly as he got hung up on the lip; he had realized his destiny.
I caught a small left in to try my luck farther up the beach. I went way past where I intended to catch a wave, hoping to luck into a nugget.
Long story short, I found myself floating past it, paddling for some which turned into obvious closeouts and getting slammed by their younger brethren in retaliation. I had an interesting trip down on a duckdive. I got under the wave and it picked me up very gently and sent me backwards and something hit me so hard in the back of the head. I've been trying to figure out the wave action that would allow that but I can't figure it out.
Eventually I got shuttled past Colorado proper, to River Rights. Those didn't look great today (they rarely do). I sat there dodging closeouts and caught a big foamy left with no barrel. I superpumped once or twice and was moving SO fast before that inevitably slammed shut on me.
There was a line at the shower at the beach club and I saw the aforementioned pinched barrel guy. I congratulated him on the wave and described the peanut gallery's utterances. He laughed, thanked me, and said "That's the best wave of my life up until this point". I smiled on the outside but harder on the inside as it's rare for people to show their true stoke, especially an hour after a wave. Surfers these days seem to be so cynical (myself included) and want to maddog everyone (myself excluded).
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