My wife's work is super busy during the summer. When she is on a conference call, I can't surf. When she has to go on a trip, I'm going with her. The vast majority of the destinations are places where it's very difficult or very uninviting to surf. This month we went to Oakland, but took a little pre-work mini trip to SF. The closest I got to surfing was mind-surfing the set-up at Fort Point, just beneath the Golden Gate. There were no waves, but I visualized the NW swell wrapping around and refracting into a barrel.
When we finally came home, the waves and Raquel's schedule alternated in making sure I stayed dry. I got a couple of great skimboarding sessions in, as that's something you can have fun with on any peak of a high tide, but no paddle time.
That finally came to an end on this morning.
I decided to stick to the nether, south of Wisconsin, waves due to the not-so-great quality-to-crowd ratio elsewhere.
I paddled out and I didn't have a chance to perch before I caught my first wave. I pumped and pumped, and it was a little flat at first, but then bared its teeth. I saw a ramp and I launched enough to release my fins but had too much weight on my heels to land it. Still, not a bad way to restart my surf career...
I caught another wave that seemed to have a shoulder, but as I ascended with the intent of eviscerating the lip took its sweet time and the adjacent wall lacked oomph. I turned with very little speed and sent a rooster tail with the thinness of an eleven-year-old Indian boy's moustache.
The last wave I remember catching was a steep, racy one that flattened out. Just before it flattened out, I prematurely decided to lay into a roundhouse cutback. The section was too steep for it and I turned it into a carve which felt awkward.
I mixed up the times and couldn't remember if I had to be back home by 730 or 9, but rather than risk Raquel's wrath (and her colleagues being showered with baby noises), I cut my session short. It turned out the 730 call was for the next day. Bummer.
When we finally came home, the waves and Raquel's schedule alternated in making sure I stayed dry. I got a couple of great skimboarding sessions in, as that's something you can have fun with on any peak of a high tide, but no paddle time.
That finally came to an end on this morning.
I decided to stick to the nether, south of Wisconsin, waves due to the not-so-great quality-to-crowd ratio elsewhere.
I paddled out and I didn't have a chance to perch before I caught my first wave. I pumped and pumped, and it was a little flat at first, but then bared its teeth. I saw a ramp and I launched enough to release my fins but had too much weight on my heels to land it. Still, not a bad way to restart my surf career...
I caught another wave that seemed to have a shoulder, but as I ascended with the intent of eviscerating the lip took its sweet time and the adjacent wall lacked oomph. I turned with very little speed and sent a rooster tail with the thinness of an eleven-year-old Indian boy's moustache.
The last wave I remember catching was a steep, racy one that flattened out. Just before it flattened out, I prematurely decided to lay into a roundhouse cutback. The section was too steep for it and I turned it into a carve which felt awkward.
I mixed up the times and couldn't remember if I had to be back home by 730 or 9, but rather than risk Raquel's wrath (and her colleagues being showered with baby noises), I cut my session short. It turned out the 730 call was for the next day. Bummer.
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