5.9.19 Balsamar for only my fourth session of all time

Balsamar is the coastal outpost of my sister's country club.  It is located down a river valley and has some little duplex bungalows one can rent for $50/night if they are members of the country club.  I've never seen anyone else surf there.  It is a dream surf camp scenario, as it's completely private (you'd have to motor in on a boat) and the waves can get good...sometimes.  In my first session here in 2002, I got the best backside barrel I had up until last year's Nica gem. Almost a year to the day of my last having surfed here, I got the opportunity to do so again.

Completely Private; One can see the sections-off in the satellite imagery

Last time, I was on an ancient board and I was having trouble getting anything going speedwise.  It felt as though someone was yanking on my leash upon pop-up.  I had assumed it was the board so I was excited to hit it on my Merrick.

This time I felt the same thing!  It's a bizarre feeling and I don't know that I've experienced it anywhere else.  My best guess is that on a high tide approach the sand's depth change is extremely gradual and possibly there is a deep-slightly shallow-deep-slightly shallow loop going on. This would be simpático with what the wave does on the surface.

Last time, I sat and watched good waves break with no one on them as I ate.  This time I ordered food as soon as we got there and wolfed down my bacon cheeseburger while the waves still sucked.  Surely the law of averages would even things out!

Before paddling out I saw one stand-out wave.  It was a frothing, nasty freight train of a barreling left which stirred my loins even though it was about as makeable as Waimea shorebreak.  I could see, from my angle, where the foam got dark into no-makeland.


I headed in that direction because there seemed to be a sandspit that was making the waves split so as to not close out nearly as much.

I paddled out and enjoyed the view behind me, nearly unfettered green peppered with the odd electric pole here and there.  I noticed as I sneaked glances behind me that I was getting farther from shore.  I had a real bitch of a time going against the rip, but it turns out that's what was keeping waves from closing out as quickly so I had to paddle the liquid treadmill if I wanted a shot at an open face.

The best wave I caught was a classic rip wave.  I was able to descend down and bottom turn around a flat spot, right into the maw of this angry, pitching right lip.  I slammed off of it, though not enough for it to count as an off-the-lip.  I got hung up and my ass started facing the water so I aborted and kicked my board out.

I felt forever frustrated by the rip and after about ten solid minutes of paddling freed myself from its tractor beam.  I caught a close-out in and walked up the beach to where I saw one wave out of twenty that had a corner.  I caught a couple of rights there but I couldn't get any speed going.

Eventually I caught a left and pumped away until a section hit me,  I should have gone around it because I was on the upswing of a pump.  I hit it in a layback snap attempt and blew it.

I went in after about ninety minutes out there, hoping the next day would be better.  Unfortunately, I came down with a fever/sore throat/nausea spell.  The good news, I guess, is that though the waves were cleaner they improved only marginally as the tide dropped.  There were some spitters out but they were almost all closing out.  If not, they would section off so as to eliminate any hopes of making it.

Taken around 5:30AM from the pissoir.  You can see the big section that just detonated and the other section down the line about to do so as well.