The pros were controlling Punta Roca, so we bailed back to our hotel, slapped on some SPF reinforcements and paddled out.
Sweet, sweet relief! There were only three guys out. The waves looked close to half the size of yesterday, but still worth the paddle. While paddling around, I noted how where one is changes their perspective on what is worth the work.
For example, a lot of the inside waves would be great waves in San Diego, but they were not worth the paddle here. I'm sure this phenomenon can be extrapolated into other areas of life. Sports are an easy category. Another example I thought of is museums. You might go to a C museum in San Diego, but you wouldn't waste your time with one in New York.
I caught a quick left and made it around the section, but there was no pay-off as there was no real wall to bank off of. I kicked out.
I paddled over to where Aaron was, lining up with the huge telecom antenna installed about twelve years ago. Within five minutes, I caught a nice right. I swooped down, went a long way up and hit it just as the lip was throwing over. I was thrown off-balance, but landed it. I was going to try for another one, but was a bit discombobulated and missed my window. I ended kicking out off-balance, but still stoked. That was definitely the turn of the trip thus far!
I caught a left and I bottom turned hard. I stayed as close to the foam as I could and snapped weakly. If I tried any harder, I would fall back due to the lack of push from the wall. I pulled it, and had to stomp hard to not fade. There was really nothing else for me to do on the wave as it withered away so I kicked out.
I caught another left and bottom turned hard again, but there was no wall, so I ended up trying a no-wall carving 360. No one has ever pulled one before, at least that I'm aware of. Let's just say that's still the case.
I was wary of being in the sun for too long so I bailed in.