The waves showed very little when my eyes first met the sea this morning. There was absolutely no one out as I saw chest high set detonate a little too quickly. The low tide had happened almost 2.5 hours ago but it was evident the surf hadn't recovered.
I spent the days between today and my last session with another nagging, annoying, sinus infection. It kept me out of the gym and out of the water, but at least I didn't have to worry about passing it on to Raquel or Lucia.
With the news of Isra's death still weighing heavily on my mind, I dedicated this session to him. I got to ride my first really juicy rights at Sunzal thanks to him, a direct result of my pestering him for way too long on preceding nights. I have great memories of piling into the back of his black pick-up truck (one with metal bars all around functioning as a cattle car, but for people) with his kids before sun-up and standing up the whole five or so kilometers to the break. My elation and breathing in of the already warming humid air was intermittently interrupted by various tropical bugs meeting their fate on my face.
I wish I could say my grief turned me into a surfing savant for the extent of my session, but it didn't.
I paddled out amidst one of those bizarre it's-too-quiet lulls where you think you've paddled out too far because the only waves are forty or so yards inside of you. I perched and a set hit. I paddled out a little farther.
My first wave was a left on which I got one quick superpump and not much more.
My first right was next, and I'm going to call it the wave of the day. I bottom-turned and carved it well, though I did let up a little as I didn't think this section would have as much push as it did. Had I gone at it full bore I would have eviscerated it.
A smaller left came and I did an off-the-top on it, sooner than I would have liked (no wall).
A guy had paddled out closer to Pier and wasn't catching a thing.
I got swept towards him, but he had bailed to try his luck elsewhere. I caught another racy left on which I superpumped, hoping to cover as much ground as possible so I'd have a faint shot at making the section. It was of no use as the whole thing detonated.
That last wave happened to be the first of the biggest set of the morning. I was determined to paddle through, but I was being swept south and was reaching critical proximity to the pier. As I paddled out, the current and the angle of the waves I was duckdiving pushed me closer and closer. I flirted with paddling through the pier but considering how much I was being tossed about, I decided to go in and march south.
I paddled back out at S. Mavs. I caught one wave on which I did a small floater, but lost it as my fins were confused by the aerated foam.
I had another chance at a decent left. I descended and pined for the end section. By the time I reached it, I had no speed. I threw my hands up in frustration.
The whole session was free of me having to pull back from others who had right-of-way. In this way, the time spent out there was glorious.
I spent the days between today and my last session with another nagging, annoying, sinus infection. It kept me out of the gym and out of the water, but at least I didn't have to worry about passing it on to Raquel or Lucia.
With the news of Isra's death still weighing heavily on my mind, I dedicated this session to him. I got to ride my first really juicy rights at Sunzal thanks to him, a direct result of my pestering him for way too long on preceding nights. I have great memories of piling into the back of his black pick-up truck (one with metal bars all around functioning as a cattle car, but for people) with his kids before sun-up and standing up the whole five or so kilometers to the break. My elation and breathing in of the already warming humid air was intermittently interrupted by various tropical bugs meeting their fate on my face.
I wish I could say my grief turned me into a surfing savant for the extent of my session, but it didn't.
I paddled out amidst one of those bizarre it's-too-quiet lulls where you think you've paddled out too far because the only waves are forty or so yards inside of you. I perched and a set hit. I paddled out a little farther.
My first wave was a left on which I got one quick superpump and not much more.
My first right was next, and I'm going to call it the wave of the day. I bottom-turned and carved it well, though I did let up a little as I didn't think this section would have as much push as it did. Had I gone at it full bore I would have eviscerated it.
A smaller left came and I did an off-the-top on it, sooner than I would have liked (no wall).
A guy had paddled out closer to Pier and wasn't catching a thing.
I got swept towards him, but he had bailed to try his luck elsewhere. I caught another racy left on which I superpumped, hoping to cover as much ground as possible so I'd have a faint shot at making the section. It was of no use as the whole thing detonated.
That last wave happened to be the first of the biggest set of the morning. I was determined to paddle through, but I was being swept south and was reaching critical proximity to the pier. As I paddled out, the current and the angle of the waves I was duckdiving pushed me closer and closer. I flirted with paddling through the pier but considering how much I was being tossed about, I decided to go in and march south.
I paddled back out at S. Mavs. I caught one wave on which I did a small floater, but lost it as my fins were confused by the aerated foam.
I had another chance at a decent left. I descended and pined for the end section. By the time I reached it, I had no speed. I threw my hands up in frustration.
The whole session was free of me having to pull back from others who had right-of-way. In this way, the time spent out there was glorious.
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