My wife had a seven o'clock conference call today. I woke up, as usual, at around three something in the morning. My plan was to get up around five, walk down to surf by the pier light, and take advantage of this swell while it lasted.
Unfortunately/Fortunately I fell asleep. Yes I was able to catch up on a sliver of my many hours' of sleep deficit, but I shot out of bed to see it was 5:41, jumped in my wetsuit and RAN to the water.
I had about a half-hour to surf and I couldn't take any valuable time to lollygag and see what the sets wrought. I paddled out at South Mavs thinking, correctly, that I'd get swept towards Pier.
The sets were closing out for the most part thanks to the crappy timing of the low tide.
I ended up catching one wave. I bobbled the takeoff ever so slightly, causing me to put some weight on my heels. That was enough to kill my shot at what looked like a workable lip line. I dove off my board once I realized I'd blown it so as to minimize the ground I'd lose to the current.
A set came and with it, transportation RIGHT to the edge of the pier pilings. By this point I'd decided I was going to go in. I braced myself and caught a macker of a closeout on my belly.
As I walked on the sand, I vacillated between paddling out for a chance at a quick one, but within twenty seconds I'd decided not to. A set of closeouts made that decision easy.
According to my watch, I'd spent twenty-three minutes in the water. Woof.
Unfortunately/Fortunately I fell asleep. Yes I was able to catch up on a sliver of my many hours' of sleep deficit, but I shot out of bed to see it was 5:41, jumped in my wetsuit and RAN to the water.
I had about a half-hour to surf and I couldn't take any valuable time to lollygag and see what the sets wrought. I paddled out at South Mavs thinking, correctly, that I'd get swept towards Pier.
The sets were closing out for the most part thanks to the crappy timing of the low tide.
I ended up catching one wave. I bobbled the takeoff ever so slightly, causing me to put some weight on my heels. That was enough to kill my shot at what looked like a workable lip line. I dove off my board once I realized I'd blown it so as to minimize the ground I'd lose to the current.
A set came and with it, transportation RIGHT to the edge of the pier pilings. By this point I'd decided I was going to go in. I braced myself and caught a macker of a closeout on my belly.
As I walked on the sand, I vacillated between paddling out for a chance at a quick one, but within twenty seconds I'd decided not to. A set of closeouts made that decision easy.
According to my watch, I'd spent twenty-three minutes in the water. Woof.
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