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Tuesday, October 2, 2012

9.27.12 Inconsistent Punta Roca with Chamba

I let our hotel's go-to guy know I would need the gate unlocked early in the morning so I could make my short trek to Punta Roca.  He delivered and I was on my way.  I called Chamba en route but he didn't pick up.

This would be my first time walking out to the point by myself.  There were no issues whatsoever, other than my signature unnecessarily-long rock dance from which I emerged unscathed.

This wave is sooooo good...!  It's hard to imagine a better wave.  If I really nitpicked, I could bitch about the ones that swing to the east and close out in the initial section (or bitch about the ones which don't, depending on where I'm sitting). I could also get into dealing with the rocks and the shallowness, but this is what makes the wave as good as it is, so that would be "point"less (AHAHAHAHHA!).

I caught my first wave within ten minutes.  I prolonged my bottom turn to match the speed and amount of water I'd need to traverse with it.  I pushed my toes in hard on the rail, pushing spray off the tail, then backside rail.  Unfortunately, I didn't have anything in my surfing quiver to ameliorate the situation in which I'd mired myself.

My board was facing the wrong way, very close to the foam and I'd used up all of my speed to milk every last ounce of spray I could out of the wave.  Big spray is impressive, not so much when the make is sacrificed to achieve it.  I leaned hard, especially on my front foot's heel.  I got a little movement forward on it, but not enough.  I fell and twisted a bit to land on my chest and could've possibly bodysurfed the wave a bit with better planning.

Shortly thereafter, I saw a dark guy coming down the path with a board I recognized from afar.  It was Chamba with the RM board he'd lent me when my board needed cauterizing on my last visit.

I watched in envy as Chamba alternated between extremely quick balancing on slippery rocks to full bore progress towards the water.  It took him maybe ninety seconds from when his toes first got wet to when he jumped on his board.  It took me probably four times that!  What a dick.

I sat for OVER AN HOUR until my next wave came.  I turned hard off the bottom and snapped, then did something I caught myself doing last trip, which is immediately, coming off the bottom to snap again.  The second hit was on an interestingly-sloped section of the lip.  It felt as though, I had water under my tail and nose but none under the majority of the straight stringer.  I got a nice satisfying THWACK out of it but it was a no-make.

I'd been sitting in the sun for over two hours when my last wave came.  I rode down the face and saw the massive Mama Roca boil.  I headed for higher pastures and caught a glimpse of Chamba yelling and paddling for the wave I was on, pretending he was going to drop in on me.  I got a couple of good turns in and called it a day.

I saw Chamba get a sick barrel in which he had his mouth open like M-I-M accuses me of doing as the lip grazed his head, his neck acting as a buffer so the rest of his body wouldn't be affected.  I paddled over, looked back and saw him lay into a sick turn.  Sick one.

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