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Thursday, September 20, 2012

9.20.12 Jockeying for Position at Wisconsin Street

As I crossed the 101 and slowed for the stop sign in front of the movie theater, I caught a glimpse of the free parking lot.  Dammit!  Damn near capacity.  It was going to be crowded out there.

My first look down the line at Mission proved to be deflating.  Where were the waves? Why was the ocean surface so textured?  Why were there still so many heads in the water?

I initially parked near Tyson Street.  It looked pretty bad.  I sat there long enough to rock out to one song on my GuyPod and saw little of interest.

I drove down to Wisconsin Street and saw a mini-slab fold over.  Out thar!

After suiting up, I passed two parked cars full of bros.  I prayed to my God that He would send them elsewhere to surf, perhaps down by Junior Seau's old house or maybe down south of me.

Once again, Jesus smited me.  The bastards followed my path into the water less than ten minutes after I blazed it.

On my first wave, I had a look at a right on which I was extremely late on.  I thought I was going to pearl, but I managed to salvage it with some double helix backward windmills.  All that effort led to squat.  The wave closed out and I kicked out.

My first left of the day involved a quick shorebreak left.  I dropped down, then saw a section about to fold over.  I pulled through the barrel out the back.

I had to keep paddling south to battle the current and also to be in position for the bigger lefts that came every ten minutes or so.

An older guy was paddling for a wave but I thought he was too deep.  I paddled with him, but ten yards to his inside.  He yelled for me to go and I did:

I caught a big left on which I spied a big fat section heading my way about twenty yards north of me.  I pumped, then bottom turned up for an off the lip.  I made the mistake of pushing through my tail and away from my board.  The board launched out and away.  If I could have that wave back, I would have gone for a big air.  Chances are, I wouldn't have made it, but anything would have been better than what happened.

I caught a quick shorebreak left on my way back out and made up my mind to go for a switch crab grab. I was barreled for close to two second before the wave triangulated my position within its guts and unceremoniously expelled me.  One day I will make a switch crab grab and it will be GLORIOUS!

After several pull-backs from closeouts, I got antsy and went on a borderline wave.  I pearled pretty hard but surfaced without issue.

I caught another one, this time a double-up.  I got a good amount of speed, b-turned and snapped, my ass cheeks grazing the water's surface.  I kept my board under my feet and rode away clean, then kicked out.

My next wave was a left on which I got hung up on the lip.  I hung on and managed to stick the landing.  It was akin to doing an off-balance floater.  I stomped down, albeit awkwardly, then kicked my board in front of me to let the wave wash over me.

I caught another left, but this one closed out on me.  I jumped over the wash.

I was over the constant jockeying and still wanted to take it somewhat easy on my still-aching, but ever-improving shoulder.  In I went.

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