My surf boner slapped against my sternum, awakening me at the prescribed time, as we'd discussed the previous night.
I was in a funk given all the bullshiv I'm dealing with for the move, on top of a project I officially started on the fifteenth. I was also still a little sick, having picked up some bug from the two sessions on the big day of the 14th. I was suddenly not in the mood to surf. I checked the forecast and opted not to go. But my surf jimmies wouldn't stop rustling.
I checked the forecast again and noticed the surf was supposed to get bigger. The period was a lowly 13 seconds, which could mean some crossed-up chop from a somewhat nearby storm. The 14 kph offshores were what broke the surf stalemate within me and I decided to head down for my last session as a Salvadoran resident.
I glanced at the point, less angry than times past. That long wave I caught which allowed me to do so much had whitewashed many of the bad sessions and frustrating waves I'd caught there since having arrived. Unfortunately, the swell currently in the water wasn't enough to overcome the rideability bar and it wasn't working right.
I walked down the dirt road, to the beach I'd spent a lot of time on as a youngster. It didn't look like it was working right either. There were scattered peaks that seemed gutless, though it might have been my 13-second swell period bias leaking.
I settled on a peak and caught my first wave within ten minutes. It was a left that opened up somewhat. I did a brutal carve on it. I gouged it so hard and lay back into the water enough so that I wasn't able to get back up. I was surprised at the amount of water I'd thrown but that's not really impressive because boating accidents also throw a lot of water.
It took forever to catch another unbroken wave, and in that time I was swept down towards El Majahual. San Blas has a battery of rideable waves when there's swell, and there's a sizeable gap between the Tinoco house (two houses west of my ex-stepfather's rented house) and the next consistent peak. I ended up in that netherworld and opted to belly board in.
I walked way east and paddled back out, then got swept down again, even more quickly. I caught a questionable right, which had the slightest of corners available to me. I didn't think; my legs swooped up and I did a mini-pump in a pretty critical part of the wave. But despite upping my chances at glory, there was no payoff as the wave unceremoniously closed out.
A couple more swept-down-go-in-walk-east-paddle-outs and some pretty critical late drops on what turned out to be close-outs later and I got the wave of the day.
I had to go easy on it, as the first wave had foamed out the surface. I didn't get barreled, but the lip hit me in the head as I was in-line for it. I got a lot of speed but unfortunately for whatever reason I didn't do a turn. Not sure if I was going for a foamy floater or I had paralysis of analysis but it didn't happen.
It wasn't until the writing of this post I realized that my first session as a Salvadoran resident took place exactly a year before my last. Will I come back to live in El Salvador? Maybe when the girls are out of the house.
I was in a funk given all the bullshiv I'm dealing with for the move, on top of a project I officially started on the fifteenth. I was also still a little sick, having picked up some bug from the two sessions on the big day of the 14th. I was suddenly not in the mood to surf. I checked the forecast and opted not to go. But my surf jimmies wouldn't stop rustling.
I checked the forecast again and noticed the surf was supposed to get bigger. The period was a lowly 13 seconds, which could mean some crossed-up chop from a somewhat nearby storm. The 14 kph offshores were what broke the surf stalemate within me and I decided to head down for my last session as a Salvadoran resident.
I glanced at the point, less angry than times past. That long wave I caught which allowed me to do so much had whitewashed many of the bad sessions and frustrating waves I'd caught there since having arrived. Unfortunately, the swell currently in the water wasn't enough to overcome the rideability bar and it wasn't working right.
I walked down the dirt road, to the beach I'd spent a lot of time on as a youngster. It didn't look like it was working right either. There were scattered peaks that seemed gutless, though it might have been my 13-second swell period bias leaking.
I settled on a peak and caught my first wave within ten minutes. It was a left that opened up somewhat. I did a brutal carve on it. I gouged it so hard and lay back into the water enough so that I wasn't able to get back up. I was surprised at the amount of water I'd thrown but that's not really impressive because boating accidents also throw a lot of water.
It took forever to catch another unbroken wave, and in that time I was swept down towards El Majahual. San Blas has a battery of rideable waves when there's swell, and there's a sizeable gap between the Tinoco house (two houses west of my ex-stepfather's rented house) and the next consistent peak. I ended up in that netherworld and opted to belly board in.
I walked way east and paddled back out, then got swept down again, even more quickly. I caught a questionable right, which had the slightest of corners available to me. I didn't think; my legs swooped up and I did a mini-pump in a pretty critical part of the wave. But despite upping my chances at glory, there was no payoff as the wave unceremoniously closed out.
A couple more swept-down-go-in-walk-east-paddle-outs and some pretty critical late drops on what turned out to be close-outs later and I got the wave of the day.
I had to go easy on it, as the first wave had foamed out the surface. I didn't get barreled, but the lip hit me in the head as I was in-line for it. I got a lot of speed but unfortunately for whatever reason I didn't do a turn. Not sure if I was going for a foamy floater or I had paralysis of analysis but it didn't happen.
It wasn't until the writing of this post I realized that my first session as a Salvadoran resident took place exactly a year before my last. Will I come back to live in El Salvador? Maybe when the girls are out of the house.
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