In a shift of strategy, I decided I was tired of fat waves and wanted some slope. I knew paddling out at dead low tide in small surf especially was a recipe for broken dreams and possibly a broken board, so I aimed for about ninety minutes into the bounce off bottom.
The wind was howling offshore and coupled with the low tide, I knew it was going to be hairy albeit small drops.
The most greenwater I saw was on a left, which allowed me one pump around a section before its big brother section shut down any and all action.
I made every drop except one but alas there was no reward. I pigdogged on one wave and realized it was passing me by as I subtly bottom-turned while grabbing rail. I smashed through the lip, then it was eerily quiet, then I went through the back. The eerie quiet time was me in the barrel. Though I had my eyes closed it was my first time in a pigdog barrel in more than three years.
The wind was howling offshore and coupled with the low tide, I knew it was going to be hairy albeit small drops.
The most greenwater I saw was on a left, which allowed me one pump around a section before its big brother section shut down any and all action.
I made every drop except one but alas there was no reward. I pigdogged on one wave and realized it was passing me by as I subtly bottom-turned while grabbing rail. I smashed through the lip, then it was eerily quiet, then I went through the back. The eerie quiet time was me in the barrel. Though I had my eyes closed it was my first time in a pigdog barrel in more than three years.
No comments:
Post a Comment