The road hadn't changed much from last week so it was a relative breeze making it down. I parked the car at 5:55 and 'screened up.
The point had less than nothing to show me, and I trudged to the beachbreak. Only one local was out watering the dirt (presumably to keep dust down as delivery trucks/buses access the community of San Blas).
One of the feline twins started audibly chortling when he saw me. I said, "Is it that bad out there?". He ignored my question and said, "It's like going back in time watching you walk up with your board". He was referring to my several summer sojourns in my late teens/early twenties before a post-pizza delivery lifestyle swooped my carefree youth out from under me.
The waves were predictably crappy. Every once in a while a sick reeling barreling section would fold over and if the wave lined up flawlessly and one timed it perfectly he/she/it/xir could conceivably get covered up and doggy door out before being entombed in a no-way-out barrel.
The sunrise was amazing. A massive fire-orange, somewhat squared-off marble rose just where the land met the water. That was unquestionably the best part of my morning.
All of my waves were lefts and I didn't even bother trying to turn.
But first, let's get to an EddieSurfs first! I had a dry hair paddle-out and when I caught my first wave, the thing detonated just inside of my tail. I slowed down and almost stopped as I beached my board but not my fins, then stood there awkwardly. The water came back up after bouncing and completely doused me and my dry hair was no longer even though my chest hadn't gotten wet.
It was bizarre but thankfully my board seemed fine.
I had one wave on which I had a line on a barrel but I didn't bother as the section in front was folding over for the next twenty yards.
I had a bunch of hairy drops but no reward for my efforts.
The wind turned up and I went back, picking up pieces of sea glass on my way back.
The point had less than nothing to show me, and I trudged to the beachbreak. Only one local was out watering the dirt (presumably to keep dust down as delivery trucks/buses access the community of San Blas).
One of the feline twins started audibly chortling when he saw me. I said, "Is it that bad out there?". He ignored my question and said, "It's like going back in time watching you walk up with your board". He was referring to my several summer sojourns in my late teens/early twenties before a post-pizza delivery lifestyle swooped my carefree youth out from under me.
The waves were predictably crappy. Every once in a while a sick reeling barreling section would fold over and if the wave lined up flawlessly and one timed it perfectly he/she/it/xir could conceivably get covered up and doggy door out before being entombed in a no-way-out barrel.
The sunrise was amazing. A massive fire-orange, somewhat squared-off marble rose just where the land met the water. That was unquestionably the best part of my morning.
All of my waves were lefts and I didn't even bother trying to turn.
But first, let's get to an EddieSurfs first! I had a dry hair paddle-out and when I caught my first wave, the thing detonated just inside of my tail. I slowed down and almost stopped as I beached my board but not my fins, then stood there awkwardly. The water came back up after bouncing and completely doused me and my dry hair was no longer even though my chest hadn't gotten wet.
It was bizarre but thankfully my board seemed fine.
I had one wave on which I had a line on a barrel but I didn't bother as the section in front was folding over for the next twenty yards.
I had a bunch of hairy drops but no reward for my efforts.
The wind turned up and I went back, picking up pieces of sea glass on my way back.
No comments:
Post a Comment