My first wave was head-high and hollow. True to its form as of late, the wave pinched into a barrel, rather than throwing out like most people prefer. I got in ok, but I set up too far from the wall. The underside of the lip hit me in the small of my back. My stance in the barrel at that moment could be described as low intensity twerking. Unsurprisingly based on the five-second plotline, it was a no-make.
My next wave was a pump-fest. I traversed, and when the time came to smack, I was zigging down when I should have been zagging up. I let out an exasperated groan, arms in the air.
Next up was what could be called barely a wave. I caught the wave, pumped once, then immediately faded out the back.
My fourth wave was a really fast wave. I dropped in and almost immediately got barreled, but it passed me by as I was in it. It felt as though I was staying still while it blasted past me.
A hybrid of my first two waves is what I experienced next. I pumped like crazy and instead of a smackable section at the end, I pulled through the end-of-the-wave closeout barrel.
I caught a nice wave for my sixth of the day, garnering me lots of speed on the drop. It was a waste though, as the crashing lip aerated the water around my inside rail and fins, reducing my ability to continue my quest for more speed. I leaned a little too far onto my backside rail and that did me in.
I barely made the drop on my next wave, but I may as well have gone over the falls, as it would have saved me some paddling for my next attempt at a wave. It unceremoniously closed out, with no regard to my feelings or my effort.
I got a little drubbed after jumping off. When I came up, I could stand up. I realized I was close to shore and decided to bail.