During my previous session, I managed to aggravate a newly-acquired shoulder injury.
Thankfully, the swell sabbatical allowed me to take some time off to recuperate.
My shoulder was feeling 95%. Forrest wanted to hit it in the morning, but I had an appointment at my second job: Airport Bitch. He cruised over during the second round of football games and was raring to get out THAR. He wanted to go to Carlsbad as he thought it looked good. I wanted to go to Oceanside because of the steep S swell direction. I made my case and he was convinced.
We shot up there and made our usual rounds. The seas were smooth, but the waves were smaller than SurfLIE had claimed they would be. We saw some set wave nugs come through, especially just south of the pier. We debated checking Harbor but were so smitten by what we saw that we passed.
We got our stuff on and headed towards the pier. We walked quite a ways, then decided we weren't in the mood to sit in a pack and fight for waves when there were empty ones just a couple of hundred paces south.
I jumped on my DHD and started paddling after a chest-high set rolled through. Forrest was close behind on his ancient Stewart longboard.
A left came through and I paddled hard. I popped up and did a quick pump to floater and blew it.
A similar left rolled through within five minutes and I did the exact same thing, EXCEPT I ollied off the lip and on to the flats. I landed flat with considerable speed and tried to do an extreme backside fade bottom turn so that I lay down just in time and with enough speed to propel my head and upper body underneath the rolling foam. I was somewhat successful.
A waist-high right came and I paddled for it. It was slow, so instead of doing the Huntington Hop, I choked up on it, putting most of my weight on the front half of my board by shuffling my feet towards the nose. The wave seemed to like that, as it let me in to its surprisingly speedy pocket. I shuffled back, but was disoriented by my newfound velocity. I meekly attempted to hit the section, but it turned into a weird wash bonk/floater rather than a solid lip bash.
A nice steep left rolled in and I sprint-paddled to meet it. I slammed my weight on the back of my board to make the half-turn more quickly. I paddled hard towards shore. As the wave lifted my board up, I popped up and pumped from the get-go. While I was immediately disappointed in my decision to not bash the first section, I salivated as the oncoming lip approached.
I didn't have enough speed for an air, so I turned up hard from the bottom to the point that I rose up the wave face at about a 60-degree angle. I rotated my head and shoulders, then my hips and legs and SMASHED the lip. I have a tendency to fall backwards after this move. This time, I managed to drag my hand in the water and recapture equilibrium. NICE!
Forrest caught a wave and about halfway through his subsequent paddle-out, a clean-up set came. I was in a good spot, but Forrest was not. When this happens, I have an annoying habit of yelling, "Bye BYE!" followed by a quick wave just before initiating my duckdive.
After three waves, the thrill of escaping a slight beating withered. I couldn't see Forrest until the last wave washed over him. I noticed he was paddling weird and when I got a liquid "culata" from the wave, it allowed me to see why. I could see a nice white cross-section of foam surrounded by the long-ago yellowed glass.
I immediately started laughing, which is an a-hole move. I wasn't laughing at his misfortune so much as I was laughing at the conditions in which his log snapped. A longboard isn't easy to break, but it's difficult to break a log in these small waves ESPECIALLY considering he wasn't even riding the wave who did this to his board.
I told him we could go in if he wanted and we went in shortly thereafter.
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