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Friday, October 4, 2013

10.1.13 Tricky and Hollow Not Sures: Four Waves = Four Slams

Well the surf gods are certainly smiling on Oside after a long sabbatical.  Another combo swell day graced with offshore winds was upon us.

I got out there in between Tyson and Wisconsin, a spot I will now refer to as Not Sures. 

It was pretty consistent out there and thankfully there weren't too many heads.  It was good-sized surf, but not big enough to keep the crowds away.  The upcoming peak of the high tide weighed heavily on my mind, meaning any surf would be fleeting and getting fat as the session progressed.

I paddled out to an empty-ish wedge that didn't seem to be getting the attention it deserved.

I had that antsy feeling of Gotta-Catch-A-Wave, The-Tide's-Going-Up and the frustration that goes with it.  I felt like a dog in heat and all the fine bitches were either too far away or, to a lesser extent, had some other rabid dog on them.

Eventually I saw my opening.

I started the session off with a right and gashed it pretty well a couple of times.

I then caught a left that went nowhere.

After sitting for about ten minutes and feeling my wave lust reach a fever pitch, I went on this right that seemed unmakeable.  I barely got into it and tucked into a crab grab and was instantly blinded by the morning sun blasting me in the barrel.  I remember squinting and/or closing my left eye, watching the falling lip spin just in front of me and then BOOM.  I went up into the wall and slammed. I went over the falls IN the barrel, which some would say is an art form.

I gathered my wits and equipment and paddled back out.

I saw a sick right break about thirty yards north and only the left was being taken advantage of.  I got in position, perched, and within a minute I was rewarded for my foresight.

I dropped down into this meaty right and crab-grabbed yet again.  I remember (just after I put my knee down) thinking I probably had enough time to do a proper pig dog.  In about a second after stomping down, I was enveloped by a throaty, frothy barrel.  It was HUGE, probably as big a right barrel as I've ever gotten outside of the tropics.  I didn't have to worry about running out of room from side to side, and the thick layer of frothy cream kept the sun out of my eyes, both directly and through the reflective powers of the water.

I was in there a solid amount of time before I saw the right join the left into a horrendous closeout about five yards (?) in front of me.  I made an executive decision and tried to pull through the wall and out the back.  Bad idea.  My board got stuck in the wave and I was weightless, heaved up by the wave in its dying breath.  I felt my board graze my feet and I could almost feel my nuts getting crushed by my board. 

Miraculously I came up unscathed and my board was right next to me.  I took a huge gasp of air and paddled back out.

I'd had enough of this crab-grab BS and swore next right I would pig dog that ish.  I chose a late drop with very little setup time and my rail stuck in the wave.  My board went over the falls and I followed shortly thereafter.  Oof.

I'd gotten swept down to Wisconsin about ten minutes later. I caught a right and bottom turned, putting too much pressure on my front foot.  My fins released and I ended up doing what felt like digging your frontside rail on a snowboard.  The liquid state of the water made it much more palatable, though, compared to its frosty counterpart.

The waves then stopped breaking outside and it was shorebreak closeouts only.  I caught one in and headed home.

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