I was on daddy duty and my wife had decreed that I'd have to wait to surf.
I saw some big slabs break, definitely overhead and not makeable by me, not even close on my board.
The tide kept dropping, and with it my hopes of glory.
In between sessions, I held my breath underwater for 47 Mississipis, which is equivalent to about a minute, I discovered. I made it with no problem.
Thanks to a near-drowning incident this month in 1997, I've had a mini to moderate panic attack whenever I am getting my ass kicked underwater. I am usually able to mitigate this by counting, knowing I can hold my breath twice as long as the vast majority of beatings.
So after my 47-Mississippis experiment, I felt confident. I was headed towards the depth of the low tide and these massive energy transporters were coming in ferociously.
I was granted reprieve and I paddled out. It took me a solid twenty minutes of straight paddling/duckdiving/questioning my sanity before I was able to squirt out between behemoth sets.
I saw waves out there that scared the hell out of me, possibly approaching triple-overhead and slamming so hard. I was extremely lucky to make it under two gnarly ones. These were so big they were black. It was scary as all hell.
I got smacked by an insider wave and whisked about. I was counting but I felt that familiar panic rising within. I gathered my board and what was left of my dignity and got smashed around some more.
I was getting pushed back some and then a bigger set came. I ditched my board and got absolutely throttled. My panic took hold, but I tried my best to act logically and relax. I was unsuccessful.
There were so many waves that just smashed down into a close-out, and I was not even close at seeing some green face on these.
Eventually I caught a right and was able to do a turn. I got hung up on the lip and jumped off. I was expecting to get brutalized but got lucky and squirted back out.
Eventually the wind made the surface of the water untenable, adding yet another element of difficulty and I decided to go in. I caught a huge close-out and was early enough so as to BARELY make the drop. When my fins engaged after most of the board was out of the water I looked up to thank the big guy upstairs.
When I urinated later, I was surprised to see some sand in a very special place, lurking under my foreskin.
Eventually
I saw some big slabs break, definitely overhead and not makeable by me, not even close on my board.
The tide kept dropping, and with it my hopes of glory.
In between sessions, I held my breath underwater for 47 Mississipis, which is equivalent to about a minute, I discovered. I made it with no problem.
Thanks to a near-drowning incident this month in 1997, I've had a mini to moderate panic attack whenever I am getting my ass kicked underwater. I am usually able to mitigate this by counting, knowing I can hold my breath twice as long as the vast majority of beatings.
So after my 47-Mississippis experiment, I felt confident. I was headed towards the depth of the low tide and these massive energy transporters were coming in ferociously.
I was granted reprieve and I paddled out. It took me a solid twenty minutes of straight paddling/duckdiving/questioning my sanity before I was able to squirt out between behemoth sets.
I saw waves out there that scared the hell out of me, possibly approaching triple-overhead and slamming so hard. I was extremely lucky to make it under two gnarly ones. These were so big they were black. It was scary as all hell.
I got smacked by an insider wave and whisked about. I was counting but I felt that familiar panic rising within. I gathered my board and what was left of my dignity and got smashed around some more.
I was getting pushed back some and then a bigger set came. I ditched my board and got absolutely throttled. My panic took hold, but I tried my best to act logically and relax. I was unsuccessful.
There were so many waves that just smashed down into a close-out, and I was not even close at seeing some green face on these.
Eventually I caught a right and was able to do a turn. I got hung up on the lip and jumped off. I was expecting to get brutalized but got lucky and squirted back out.
Eventually the wind made the surface of the water untenable, adding yet another element of difficulty and I decided to go in. I caught a huge close-out and was early enough so as to BARELY make the drop. When my fins engaged after most of the board was out of the water I looked up to thank the big guy upstairs.
When I urinated later, I was surprised to see some sand in a very special place, lurking under my foreskin.
Eventually
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