6.30.18 Wading then Waiting at Wyoming

In essence this wasn't the most fun session.

I took advantage of the ladies cleaning our condo (and most importantly, watching Chucho) and got out there.

It was the abyss of the low tide.

My first wave was a left.  It looked super wedgy as I was catching it but as I was bottom turning there was nothing there so I sailor dove off of it.

I pulled back from SOOOOOO many closeouts for about an hour with the odd would-have-gone, dude-already-on-it wave sprinkled in.

Eventually I caught a right and tucked in.  I was immediately surrounded in the barrel.  I felt it pinching shut and I corrected my trajectory a little towards the wave, being careful not to touch it with my leading arm so as not to stall.  The thing was tight and I overcorrected into it and got slammed over the falls.  I instinctively bellowed gutturally and covered my head with my arms.  My top half was left unscathed but I did get a decent shinner from my board's rail.

About fifteen minutes later I caught a right.  This one I was able to pump on and get tons of speed.  As I bottom turned I got a similar feeling to that barrel wave from half a month ago and felt like I was running out of runway to make my turn.  I transferred my weight brusquely as the lip hit my board and I got hung up.  I started to descend, nose-down and nothing but air in the way of a two-foot drop into the detonating trough.  I bailed but didn't kick my board out enough.  I had a quick vision of face-butting my board but somehow I didn't even touch it.

About a half-hour later I caught another right, did a quicker bottom turn and didn't go all of the way up the wave as it surprised me by breaking sooner than expected.  I pulled out of that just fine and the wave closed out.  As I jumped off my board I made the mistake of contorting my body in such a way as to land on me nutsack.

6.27.18 Drop in Swell Leads me to Panga Drops, Bonus SUPER SESSION 6.27.98

The ladies were cleaning the condo today so I took advantage of the opportunity to have them watch Chucho.  Unfortunately, the swell had dropped precipitously and the tide was at its apex.  This combination has but one cure and its name is Panga Drops.

I walked down there and as I got to the sand spit, noticed the sky was an explosion of varying shades of gray.  There was one dude out.  I paddled past him so we'd each have our own peak.

The swell was small but it was still overhead, which is a nice thing if you're strictly a size queen, which I am NOT!

I caught a bunch of waves.  One one of my first, I tried doing an elongated cutback just before the flat section and was bounced off my board by the chop.

A dude on a log paddled out and now there were three of us.  He gave me a "Buen Dia" and proceeded to sit deeper.  I saw him blow a lot of waves but the dude was charging.

There were zero waves on which I got to ride which made a connection with the inside/shorebreak.  It just wasn't happening today but that's common.

The guy who had been out when I paddled out was looking at a left and I told him to go.  After a too-short ride on the right, I paddled back out and he took the time and had the chutzpah to say thank you, which was really nice of him.

It started raining pretty hard as a massive cloud came overhead.  Then the sun broke through and the water was a murky turquoise color.  It was a very interesting color combo with the sun making the sea shimmer.

I eventually went in and went for an off-the-lip on a shorebreak close-out.  I was a bit slow and I half-made it/half fell off after initially having semi-stomped it.

~SUPER SESSION~

Dateline: June 27,1998

I had graduated from high school just fifteen days prior to this.  This was the first summer my mom had allowed me to spend the night at her ex-husband's rented beach house (which he used only on Sundays and holiday weeks).  This was in El Salvador at a beach called San Blas.

I'd been surfing a little over ten months and had never gotten barreled.

Pando and I woke up early and it was going off.  Barrels were rifling off in both directions at the beachbreak almost right in front of the property.  It wasn't big, M A Y B E a little overhead on the sets.  I was riding this massive board I'd received in a trade from my older cousin Ed in 1994 (he got my Game Boy and all of my games).

It was just us.  I'd never been out in waves that barreled like this.  I got three lefts in quick succession and got barreled on two of them.  My first one was especially good.  I dropped in, posted up and the thing threw over me.  Unfortunately I made no barrels on this day.  But I popped my tube cherry and that was a big hurdle to get over.  I remember on both barrels I got pitched and ended up scraping my back on the sand.

At one point the tide kicked into high gear.  Seeing as to how I was on this massive thick board, I had a bitch of a time getting out.  I probably wasted forty minutes of the session sprint-paddling and doing my damnedest to duckdive this behemoth with my 125lb high school body.

I did see Pando get barreled going in both directions but I don't remember seeing him make one.

6.25.18 Heebie-Jeebies at Playa Colorado

I had a real uneasiness set in as I paddled out.  There were some bombs coming through, but nothing outside of my wheelhouse, even on my 5'11".  I can't explain it, but I just got this feeling in the esophagal area of foreboding doom.

The swell was easily a foot bigger than I'd anticipated and there was almost no one out.  The right at Wyoming looked good but there was a pack on it so I opted for Colorado.

After a couple of spankings, I made it out and perched.  Chucho was running amok in the sand, leashless and fancy free.

A left broke down the way and I sprint-paddled to meet it.  The one nice thing about waves which break quickly is you can bullshit your way into catching them if you're really far down the line like I was.  I did so and there was a wall of pain coming for me so I hit the eject button and sailor-dove out the back.

Quick glances toward shore revealed Chucho was being coaxed north; the sight of each beaching surfer beckoning him further from me.  This, together with the queasiness from my uneasiness, made me take the next one in.

I have little shot at a decent session unless I can get someone to dogsit him.

6.24.18 Short but not So Sweet at Playa Idaho

The doggie and I trudged south to the beach.  He walked with the gait of a riding horse walking towards his saddler with a heavyset rider-to-be looking on in anticipation.

We made it to the beach and I took off his leash and hung it on a tree.  I told him to stay where he was on the sand.  I stole glances at him while paddling out and he had his gaze and antennae fixed upon me.  I made it out quickly and kept looking for him over my shoulder.  I'd see him about 80% of the time as sometimes he would be chest-deep in water and I couldn't see him.

My first wave was a right, as was my second.  It was a quickly breaking wave and I aborted through the barrel I'd entered Quasimodo-style.  I got a painful pat on the back as a penalty from the wave.

There were lots of big beautiful barrels breaking.  I didn't see anyone make one.  They were all getting either swallowed up or pinched.

My last wave had a really critical takeoff.  I got hung up on the lip ever so slightly.  I was committed and I pearled hard.  I half-jumped/was half-catapulted and comically felt my legs trying to run out of it (as one would when one blows it on a skateboard).  My non-messiah status was proven by my painful introduction into the water.

The dog had been trotting along and I heard a warning bark.  I was worried he was going to bail and run away as he did once while here in Nicaragua.  As I caught a wave in, he was about fifty yards away from me investigating this portly older man.  This was presumably because he thought it was me which made me take a long look in the mirror when we made it back to the condo.

6.23.18 Luxuriating in the Low Tide at Wyoming

After the swampy session this morning, it was a bit of a shock seeing the bombs rolling through.

My neighbor Barry, who is down here for two months from Oceanside, of all places, volunteered to watch Chucho AND he lent me his bike.  I was living the dream not having to worry about the dog and the mosquitoes.

The crowd was less pronounced than the most recent seshes I've had.

My first wave was a meaty left which I almost didn't go on because I was so late.  I surprisingly didn't airdrop and pulled in to a barrel on which I didn't have a shot.

I had another smaller version of the above with a similar result, though I was in there for a little bit longer and got a nice albeit abridged view.

I pulled back on a right because it was basically breaking over me and I went over the falls!  That hadn't happened in close to four years and man did it humble me.

A left opened up, a little on the smaller side.  I did some longer pumps on which it felt as though the wave was going to cavitate.  I laid into a meaty cutback once I saw a chance and really laid into it.  The wave shut down and I rode out of it as it did so.

This really nice, a little over head-high left came in.  I was paddling for it, a bit on the shoulder.  This girl who was MAYBE 13 was paddling in position for it, her eyes bugging out.  I immediately stopped paddling and yelled for her to go.  She got a sick one!

The next wave was all mine.  I got up awkwardly with too much weight on my back leg.  I thought I'd blown the take-off and resigned myself to the requisite beating.  Then my front foot stomped down a bit towards my frontside rail.  I was able to recover, then I swooped down, pulled up, set my line and got a little barrel over me.  I chandeliered out of it and almost lost my balance before the thing shut down and I kicked my board out.

6.23.18 Hampered by the High Tide at Wyoming

I asked the cleaning ladies to watch Chucho while they cleaned our condo so I could surf without being anxious about his anxiety.  They agreed.

I walked down and was excited for the bump in swell.  It had easily doubled in size.  Unfortunately, my timing was coming up on the summit of the high tide.

I had a mosquito-free walk to the beach, thanks mostly to the briskness of it sans Chucho.

The high tide and the swell had locked horns and the high tide seemed to be dominating the match.

The bigger ones would barrel a little but they were few and far between.  So when they went away most migrated to the inside or they'd sit for a half-hour before another set came.

I caught a couple on which I had to shuffle up to stay in play on them.  I did an arms-behind-the-back soul-arch-almost-cheater-five on a particular fat one.

The highlight, if you can call it that, was a right.  I bottom turned nicely and hit it hard but not too hard and e k e d back onto the trough.

6.21.18 Much Smaller Low Tide Wyoming

I knew the bottom of the tide was ambitious on a low swell day like today.  I was optimistic that it would be bigger than expected. 

It wasn't.

I caught a good amount of waves.  My highlight was probably the first right I caught.  I thwacked it nicely but pussed out when I felt nothing but air under the front half of my board.

I had two similar attempts at frontside off-the-lips which I botched similarly.

I also pulled my first floater in a while.

Chucho started barking.  When I tied him to the tree in the shade I waved at him every fifty feet or so and then tried waving at him from the water.  My thinking was that maybe he would know where I was in the line-up and he wouldn't freak. 

He did.

This morning he got out of bed at about 3:45.  I happened to already be awake but pretended to be asleep so he'd leave me alone.  He licked me right in the face, a sign he had to to a) urinate b) defecate c) both of the preceding and so I took him down.

When he came up he was walking wonkily.  His cheekbone grazed the door jamb of our condo and he looked spastic five seconds later.  His legs were wobbly and were starting to give out.  I asked him if he was ok and he wagged his tail a little, but it looked like he was going through a small seizure.

I prescribed him strict bed rest today and he has been sleeping 95% of the day, twitching up a storm.

6.20.18 Much Smaller and Mellower Playa Wyoming

I got my Merrick back!  The surf was coming off the low so I was hoping for some consistency and possibly some hollowness.  Unfortunately, the waves were so small that finding room in which to fit in a cave would be a challenge.

I got Chucho wet with ocean water to prepare him for his stay in the shade.  I told him "Stay" and waded out.  There was a long deep patch before I could continue my wade out to the line-up.

I hadn't even perched when my first wave came.  It was a right and it had more juice than I'd expected.  After an elongated bottom turn, I absolutely smashed it right on the vertical lip.  I came back around and couldn't hold on after the tiniest of air drops.

Another highlight was a left I caught on which I was able to pump to connect to the inside section.  I slapped it decisively and almost hung on.

I pumped quickly on another left and got in the tiniest of barrels for the shortest of times.

Chucho's barking took longer to start today, but not by much.  Since the tide was low, it was quieter so maybe that's the key?

The situation in Nicaragua has gotten worse and I will likely have to charter a plane to get Chucho and me out of here.  I'd like to sell the car before we leave, but if I can't, I'll have to put it in storage and come back for it...

6.19.18 Short High-Tide Mission on the Tomo

The girls are gone and it's just da boyz.  The power went out early this morning and Chucho and I waited for the sun to come out and we headed down.  Things started off poorly as I slid and fell down a short but steep grassy hill.  I got up laughing and after a quick surreptitious check I confirmed no one saw.

I wasn't excited about the session as Chucho, when left alone, freaks out and barks.  It's happened at the grocery store in Rivas.  I found a tree trunk to which to tie him.  When I first paddled out, he was fine.  About ten minutes later, he started barking.

 My first wave was a left. I bottom-turned a little too sharply (given the twin fin/small center fin) and that scrubbed some speed off my attempt at a top turn.  Once I got there I tapped the lazy wave and had no shot at coming back down.

I caught a right and immediately went into cutback mode.  Unfortunately I lost it in the wash.

My last wave was my best wave.  I did a nice cutty but once I reset I couldn't get anything going off the through.

Chucho's barks became more labored and shrill so I caught the next closeout in.  He languidly wagged his tail and was ready to walk back.  He is now passed out next to me sleeping off his separation trauma.

Prince Winston Chucho Eduardo, in repose

6.17.18 Crowded and not Quite Throwing at Playa Wyoming ~ NEWS ~

Wow, the view towards Colorado was littered with bobbing heads, or maybe that was my more-sensitive-to-crowds baseline talking.

There was no one out at Playa Idaho and I saw a smaller right barreling slowly and spitting so I decided to paddle out there.  Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to even perch before I had company tailing me.  Guess I wasn't the only one who saw the spitter.

I bailed on my initial perch spot and headed southeast to Playa Wyoming to bet on its higher consistency.  I had the following song in my head and worked on rearranging the lyrics so as to make fun of my cousin.

First wave, a left:  I dropped down and saw it wanting to throw.  I took a chance and tucked in, then immediately kicked my board out.

I caught another one and I was trying to stall for a barrel that may not have been there.  It probably looked like I kept trying and failing to manual.

A lot of sick-looking ones were rolling through.  And I missed out on a couple because guys just couldn't catch them.

I caught  a left after a local couldn't catch it and he told me to go in Spanish.  I pumped once, bottom-turned harder than I normally do, and went into a half-assed layback (where half your ass goes into the water).  I managed to pull it, then I jumped off my board so I wouldn't hit one of my neighbors.  He came up smiling.

My last wave was yet another left.  I bottom turned arguably harder than I ever have and uncorked at the top, and threw a flume of spray.  I bottom turned again but my board began chattering and I lost it.

As I pulled my board toward me my fingers touched a divot and I'd somehow managed to ding my board pretty deeply on the bottom below the tail pad. My best guess is I put my heel through it when I had that incident pulling out of the barrel a few days ago and I just now saw it.  It's at ding repair and I will be on the Tomo...

~NEWS~ 

The situation in Nicaragua has gotten to the point where we don't feel we can safely stay here with our girls.  The hospital in Managua was 2.5 hours away two months ago.  But the people are trying to oust the guy in charge and are putting pressure on his government by blocking off roads.  If one of the girls suffered an accident, we would be hard-pressed to make it to care in time.  This is on top of concerns about gas and food shortages, both of which we've been through on several occasions in the past month.  

If it was us without the girls, we'd probably stick it out.  Property values have plummeted and it's a great time to buy.  There is some concern about land-grabbing, which is happening by squatters staking out on large plots of land in the northern part of the country, though I don't think it would be an issue where we are in a private development.

Because of Chucho, our next stop will be El Salvador.  Things will open up when he keels over, though we're squabbling as to our next possible station.

The girls are leaving today bound for their grandparents' house in CO and we'll reconvene in ES once I am there.

I am posting this today because today is the 22nd anniversary of the date on which I found out I was going to live in the US permanently. 

6.15.18 Hamstrung by High Tide at Playa Colorado

I had the go-ahead and access to a bike so I decided I'd surf even though I knew it wouldn't be great.

There was plenty of swell still in the water.

The paddle-out on the rising tide was brutal.  Towards the end of the barrage I considered going in after I got sea lice in the arm pit.  This would burn on every other paddle which further sapped my mojo.

Eventually I made it out.  The water was still really clear although the surface of the ocean was textured, muddying things somewhat.

I had two lefts in a row, though they were twenty minutes apart.

The first I had to wait for it to develop, like a college guy with a high school girlfriend.  Once it did, I pumped twice (which was once too many) then went in for a roundhouse cutback.  I ran out of steam on it unfortunately but my spray trail left a decisive line at least.

On the second left, I didn't have to wait for it to steepen at first. I did a mellow top turn throwing some spray.  Then it fattened up as it hit the inside deep section.  I choked up slightly on the board, then pumped and overdid it as I hit a flat spot.  I went over the handlebars and knocked some of the wind out of me when I painfully landed on my back in front of my board.

About halfway through the session I realized I should keep my eyes open underwater so I could see the tumult of the wave coming down.  It was wild seeing the underwater space darken once the wave broke and seeing these clouds of turbulence coming for me.

It took a long time before I caught my last wave.  It was a right and this guy paddled for it on my inside.  I was definitely going and his paddling/waiting to see if I would truly go caused the wave to snowball.  I had the idea to foam climb the snowball and I did successfully, despite the fins sliding out a bit on almost knocking me down.

6.15.18 Close Calls at Dropping Tide Playa Colorado

The bike I've been borrowing from a soon-departing neighbor was being used by said neighbor so i hoofed it barefoot to the beach.

Paddling out I was stricken by how glassy the water was.  The water was crystal clear, I could see individual grains of sand tumbling around in the current.

This was a session of almosts in various ways.

My first wave was a left.  I zoomed around the initial section, snapstalled and got barreled with a view. I was ALMOST in there for 1.5 seconds.

I had another left on which I tried to do what I've seen guys do on surf videos.  It happened without thinking.  I went around the section and really had to slow down.  I snowboard pumped (picture trying to get going on a snowboard from a standstill) backwards so as to let the wave catch up to me and try to get into the barrel I ALMOST fit in.

I caught a right and tucked into a pigdog. It was a late drop and I must have gotten hung up on the lip.  I dropped straight down into a decent line for the barrel but I must have been weighting too far forward and dropped down into the drink.  I instinctively put my hand up and ALMOST had the nose of my board hit me in my face hard.  I had a nice red mark to show for it.

I had a look at a really nice left.  I unfortunately set up too far away from the wall and got smooshed down into the water.  I ALMOST got really barreled and would have likely made it out.

My last wave was another pigdog attempt.  I was successful in getting in the barrel and then the thing closed down on me.  I tried to pull out the back and was ALMOST triumphant.  The wave was jacking hard in its closeout ecstasy and I went over the falls, but half in the barrel.  I was still grabbing on to my board, I think, and it flipped up and I landed awkwardly on the fins with my feet.  It hurt so bad but luckily I hadn't injured anything. 

6.14.18 Smaller Playa Colorado Sucking Out

When I rolled up, it looked nearly unsurfable.  It was smaller than I'd seen it in weeks.  Part of this was being near the depth of the low tide, and the bigger part was the receding swell.  Also in play was no sets breaking as I took in my first impression of the ocean.

There was a healthy crowd out, relatively speaking.  I briefly thought about going down to Panga Drops but I really didn't want to get back on the borrowed bike.

I got an ok-looking left and made it around the section after having pumped. I set my line and contorted myself in what resulted in a comically miscalculated spot, right along the lipline and way too far from the wall.

I took a right and pivoted into pigdog position but it wasn't throwing over so I cut down and went for a floater which I botched.

A lot of paddling, being too deep, and telling people to go, later...

A good-sized right came.  I immediately pig-dogged and was in a great spot in this massive round barrel.  I saw it going vert out of the corner of my right eye.  I could feel  the air sucking me back into the pit of the tube.  I definitely wish I'd stuck my arm in more to stall though...  I got up and with ssssoooooo much speed, laid into a bottom turn and didn't turn quickly enough at the top of the wave.  I mistimed my top turn and did it too far past the top to salvage it.  Still super amped though!

A couple more forgettable waves and I did a nice smack on a really vertical section, even hitting part of the breaking lip. I ended up losing it when coming back down though.

The barrel wave got me amped to get another and I stayed out for over two hours but eventually the crowd put the kibosh on my chances.

6.12.18 Onshore and Lumpy Playa Colorado

The prevailing wind pattern is so ingrained here that when it switches the waves become a ghost town.

I paddled out and was one of three people out.  One guy was my neighbor and the other person out was a lady in her 40s.  Eventually my neighbor went in and it was the lady and me.  We gave each other plenty of space.

I was catching wave after wave.  My first wave was the best wave.  I managed a top turn and a slash on it before it fizzled on me.

Another highlight was a right I caught.  I managed to do a top turn on it but blew it on the second one.

I was then alone for the last twenty minutes of my session.

My last wave was a right and I got a little zip out of my cutback, hit the whitewash well and came back  around.  I pumped around a section but there was nothing there.

It was a lot more manageable/makeable than yesterday but there was still plenty of power out there.  I got my ass handed to me on a couple of occasions.

6.11.18 Beatings Galore at Playa Idaho

The swell was supposed to be huge today.  I was expecting to see double overhead plus. My rare no-board-in-tow surf check revealed it was about the same size as yesterday.

I waited until the tide dropped a bit as it was still a bit chunky and then the swell bared a bit more fang.

There were some beastly waves rolling through, not one of them makeable.  I saw one in the distance that was a little smaller than the sets and a dude got into the barrel and it kind of sat there spinning.  I thought for sure he was going to make it as it was almost waiting for him to exit but something went wrong.

Unfortunately for me, after a paddle out I had a session of waiting with some beatings sprinkled in.

I was just on the wrong side of a nasty closeout and the couple I had a shot at it I was too inside for.

Case in point, I paddled for a big right and the section right in front of leapt up.  There was a guy paddling for it and I told him to go, given his premium positioning compared to mind.  I then watched in horror as the massive section clamped down on him.  He floated up and for a split second caught him holding the top of his noggin as he went over the falls.  I was unsure if that was a protective hold or an ouch, that smarts hold.

I caught one left and I was in awe at the power behind it.  The thing paused, then pounced.  I looked ahead and saw the right coming towards me so I pulled through after about three seconds up and riding.

The worst beating happened late in the session.  I duckdove as a macker bore down on me.  I was immediately flipped over and shoved down so hard and so fast I was shocked at how quickly the inside of my eyelids registered no light.  I was determined to hold on to my board and come up with it but a second surge came and ripped it from my clenched fingers.  When I came up they were aching from the battle.

I got caught inside on a set and the sun was close to setting, so I went in.

6.10.18 Healed and Hopeful at the Beachbreak

During my last session, I managed to exacerbate some skin irritation on my lower ribcage and it started looking infected.  I elected to not surf and not grind my board on it, so as not to make it worse.  Then about five days ago I was swimming in the pool with our eldest.  She was trying to catch me as I headed over to the edge of the pool.  She was almost to me and I pushed away.  I felt something yank on my toe.  I grimaced and looked back towards where I'd pushed off.  As I did so, I could feel the skin off my toe flapping around the water every time I kicked.  I'd somehow managed to get part of my toe pad wedged between the wall and the underwater light fixture.

I grabbed Lucia and limped upstairs, leaving a trail of blood as I did so.  It looked pretty grisly and at first glance it looked like I needed stitches.  I got in the shower and cleaned it up with soap, unsure if I was just adding to the pathogens by using the shower water.

Today was the first day I put it in the water after waffling yesterday.  The swell was building and tomorrow is projected to be the biggest day of the swell.  It could push double overhead and I wanted to make sure I didn't throw myself into that completely rusty.

The unrest in the country has diminished the crowd by easily 75%.  I counted thirteen of us spread out across the peaks at one point.  This number would likely have been in the fifties on this day last year.

Not many waves were ridden today.  Part of it, I imagine, is people can afford to be more choosy with less competition.  But the biggest part of it was likely how nasty these closeouts were on the building swell.

I paddled for a wave, decided to abort, then was caught inside as one of the biggest sets of the morning unloaded.  There was no question on this one.  The wave detonated and the whitewater shot up to twice the size of the wave at its peak.  My arms immediately initiated board-ditching sequence and I got hammered.

My first wave probably took me about a half-hour to catch, after the current had shuttled me to River Rights from Wyoming.  It was a decent-sized right and I stood up and immediately realized it was going to run on without me.  I watched in admiration as it threw over into a solid barrel and continued to do so at a breakneck pace.  I kicked my board out and took the next one in, then walked west past Playa Idaho.

I saw an older grom catch a left and get slotted as he pigdogged, then grimaced as he was helplessly slammed shut by a budding section.  Yep, with a camera and proper framing/timing one can make a lot of these waves look perfect.

I eventually got a look at a left.  I swooped down and it was pretty foamy.  I was a little off in my positioning but if I'd slammed my arm into the wave I might have been able to get covered up into a small one.  I didn't and kicked my board out as the wave rifled off without me.

The wave of the day wasn't all that great, but it was about head-high.  I caught, pivoted into pigdog stance, yanked hard but not hard enough on my outside rail.  The lip hit me in the head, I closed my eyes, continued in the barrel for a little over a half-second, then got obliterated.  I went into a fetal position while covering up my head and waited for trauma that thankfully never arrived.

Another big set came and I had to hustle to try to beat it.  I started smiling thinking it was going to be one of those by-the-skin-of-my-teeth escapes.  I duckdove and immediately was flipped over and destroyed.  It wasn't so hard that it left me stunned and overrode my brain's signals to my hands, but it did take the board away from me after a beat.  I got that panicky feeling after not knowing which way was up but thankfully surfaced before it got too bad.

The rest of the set had its way with me, playing the part of the pinball fans and I Jodie Foster in The Accused.  On the last one I came up a little too fast and the board happened to flip over onto my surfacing shoulder.  The result of the collision was painful but not so bad that it prevented me from paddling. 

Nothing of interest came in the twenty minutes after and in I went.

The pain has gotten worse but I should be ready to roll for tomorrow's beatings.

6.2.18 Windy and Tricky Playa Colorado

I didn't want there to be another mosquito massacre so I began running when the first swarm attacked.

It looked like a weaker version of the previous afternoon's session, but with less water. The crowd count had about doubled but it was still  manageable.

The waves started baring their teeth as the tide dropped.  There were so many great wedges that turned into horrific look-away-from-the-grisly-car-accident closeouts.

My first two waves were at the beginning of the session and were awkward in that they were a little too fat to barrel but a little too run-ny to get around the section.

The dance went like this:

1. Oh, look!  A wave
2. Paddle to where it hopefully stops closing out/sectioning off
3. See if it's worth paddling any further to see if there is a sniff of a chance of making it
4. Check to see if there's a local who's taking a remote chance at backdooring and getting the wave of the season, to make sure you don't burn him.
5. Check ahead of you to see if  there's a local or Brazilian who is going to go either figuring you won't make it or not caring 😂
6. Pray you're not too early or too late and make sure your chance of making it is worth the possible collision if someone is in front of you.
7. Eye lipline to anticipate strategy
8. Pop up and pray you don't get hung up on the lip.

If you paddled for any first wave of the set and you either missed it or decided to pass, prepare to pay the piper!

I did have one wave on which I could have conceivably double arm-stalled and if I could have somehow fit in the tight barrel I might have doggy-doored it.  The tide was still a bit high so it would have been a tight fit.

My lone right was my last wave and I got a good smack in, got hung up on the lip, descended and ate it as the wave broke just inside my backside rail.

I didn't see anyone make any barrels though I did hear of a guy who did.

6.1.18 Syrupy Smooth but Swampy Playa Colorado

I was stuck at the condo today on daddy duty with Chucho while the girls attended festivities where dogs aren't allowed.  The pictures looked good, some barrels here and there but for the most part unmakeable unless you luck into the perfect spot at just the right time.  One guy did get a sequence and I saw 5-6 frames of him pitted where the wave just waited for him to get out. 

One day?

I was going to borrow our neighbor's bike to ride down as the mosquitoes are extremely active in the afternoon.  Unfortunately, it had flat tires from lack of use and so I hoofed it barefoot.  The rains have helped in making the trek sans shoes palatable, my guess is the river of water washing down the washboard roads takes the loose gravel off the top.

The mosquitoes were buzzing around me and at one point I felt a couple of itches on my back.  I looked back and with my bad eye I could see two perched on me.  Two quick slaps led to at least one kill as evidenced by my visual inspection on my hand.

A former neighbor was driving and we chatted as he drove slowly about the deteriorating political climate here.

I caught a left very late and I stomped down setting up for an unlikely high tide barrel.  The wave jarred me and my front foot was in the wrong spot so I went for an unplanned swim.

I was in the perfect  spot for a set wave and so I had to go even though it didn't look worth the paddle back. Sure enough, after the initial lazy wall there was nothing there.

I passed up a wave on which I could have gone and behind it was a macker.  I watched as it jacked up and threw over while thinking about how royally screwed I was.  I duckdove and panic-kicked my legs just as I got underwater and somehow blasted through.

I had two duckdives on which I wasn't as lucky and I ended up facing shore, which is pretty rare.  I also had one where I got absolutely crushed underwater and was 'wrestling the crocodile', holding on to my board with a death grip as we got blasted about.

Another crappy wave with nothing to it and I was ready to go in, dejected.  I was frustrating at having missed the window, again.  I looked towards the sea to see if I could get a ride on some whitewash but it was completely flat.  I thought about Shaun Thomson's Surfer's Code about how you should always paddle back out when you're feeling down and over it.

This led to the wave of the session and my only right.  Keep in mind that it's the wave of the session only because the other waves were so crappy.

I caught a steep right and stomped down in a diagonal angle so as to maximize efficiency.  I swooped around the first section, smashed the lip, came down and watched as it closed out.

I was dreading my walk back, closer to sundown and with more mosquitoes but luckily a neighbor in a golf cart spotted me and gave me a rid on the back.

5.30.18 Swampy and Swollen Playa Colorado

I wanted to surf earlier today when the tide was more advantageous but I had daddy duty with Chucho.  The girls were off to the presentation for Nicaraguan Mother's Day and I was not invited.

Eventually one of the neighbors came by and she said it was good.  Off I went to see for myself and bust this slump, caused mostly by inclement weather we'd been having which had wrecked the conditions.

The water looked extremely inviting.  Its smooth come hither surface titillated me while its exotic turquoise color made my loins purr.

The tide was pretty high but the crowd count was proportionally the inverse.  When I perched, the pack became three-strong and I knew both guys.  A fourth was a bit south of us and I knew him as well.  A couple of tourists filtered out throughout the session so it seems the unrest and resulting bad press is really controlling the crowd count.

The absolute highlight was my last wave.  It was a left which I had to do my Pitufo two-part takeoff because I was a bit early.  I hustled hard and stomped down to take in the fatness that lay before me.  I had to pump, then shuffle up to keep up with the slow-as-two-day-old-diarrhea wave. I did a mellow top turn, then saw a little pocket and I did a slash on which I slid the tail out ever so slightly and ended up super compressed.  I rode away out of that then got excited as the wave started feeling bottom and steepening.  I pumped a couple of times then did a little floater off the end section.  I pulled that and jumped off my board into knee-high water.  I took advantage of the momentum and walked towards my sandals and home.

5.25.18 Paying a Shortened Tribute at Mostly Playa Idaho

The swell was on the way down and I knew the beachbreak would be marginal.  Another dip in the swell and it will be borderline unsurfable.

There was a pack on every peak and from what I could tell after paddling out and perching we were dealing with quite the foreign contingent.  I heard Portuguese and French being bandied about.

I missed out on a couple of waves by being too inside of them, as is tradition.  Within five minutes though, I caught a good-looking right.  I paddled for it and I heard yelling in some tongue I couldn't decipher.  I looked to make sure there was no one outside of me, then made quick eye contact with the bellower.  His eyes were ablaze and I had no idea what he was saying but I went.  I pumped down and appreciated the wave's contour.  I briefly thought about pulling in but the section out front was out for blood.  I pulled through and out the back.

While paddling back out I noticed how hard I was drifting south after having caught that right.

I caught a quick left.  It was really foamy.  As I did a quick direction change to possibly snap-stall my fins chattered and I lost my momentum.  The thing bared its teeth and threw over.  I was bummed, foamy barrels darken the tunnel even further for the spelunker but I'd missed out because of a weighting mistake in my enthusiasm to do something.

I paddled back out and got smacked around a bit underwater and sat.  I surprisingly heard a female voice call for me.  I whirled around and saw my girls on the sand with my eldest (Raquel) waving me in.  As I paddled in I was lucky enough to catch an insider.  I stood up on it so Lucia could see me riding a wave and maybe get excited to want to try.

I asked immediately, "Where's Chucho?", figuring in his absence he had been maimed or felled.  Raquel said in the car, and that Solani's fingers had been scrunched in a door at our condo.  So in I went and that was that.

5.24.18 Big and Gross Playa Wyoming

I'd been under the weather for the last four days and despite still feeling some waning symptoms I decided to go for it.  The tide was increasing off the depths of the low and I hoped to snag something to make up for the last session.

The wind was onshore and the sea surface suffered some sickness.  The swell was on the way down but with a 15-second period I knew there would still be some oomph.  Sure enough, my first look from the sand showed some overhead but messy bangers.  Most of these were barreling but I didn't see one makeable one while my toes were in dry sand.

The crowd was about what I expected.  What I've heard from friends here who are property managers is there are less families coming down but the surfers are still coming.  So perhaps there is a slight dent in surfing families.

I saw a sweet left breaking and spitting with no one on it so I paddled out towards there.  Of course it had nothing in its wake and I never saw another like it.  I allowed myself to get swept south a bit as there was some action there.  A wave came and it looked great but I was JUST barely too inside of it.  I knew it as it approached so I back-paddled a little but it was to no avail.  Oh well, probably saved myself from a sand scrape.

There was a commotion and twenty yards south of me a guy was in the perfect spot for this mysto wedge that popped out of nowhere.  People half-thrilled/half-terrified grimaced/cheered as he descended and pulled in.  He got completely covered up and immediately sectioned/pinched but had a second-and-a-half of glory in the square-ish barrel.

I kept drifting until it was just me and a logger.  I saw him take off on a wave and heard him groan loudly as he got hung up on the lip; he had realized his destiny.

I caught a small left in to try my luck farther up the beach.  I went way past where I intended to catch a wave, hoping to luck into a nugget.

Long story short, I found myself floating past it, paddling for some which turned into obvious closeouts and getting slammed by their younger brethren in retaliation.  I had an interesting trip down on a duckdive.  I got under the wave and it picked me up very gently and sent me backwards and something hit me so hard in the back of the head.  I've been trying to figure out the wave action that would allow that but I can't figure it out.

Eventually I got shuttled past Colorado proper, to River Rights.  Those didn't look great today (they rarely do).  I sat there dodging closeouts and caught a big foamy left with no barrel.  I superpumped once or twice and was moving SO fast before that inevitably slammed shut on me.

There was a line at the shower at the beach club and I saw the aforementioned pinched barrel guy.  I congratulated him on the wave and described the peanut gallery's utterances.  He laughed, thanked me, and said "That's the best wave of my life up until this point".  I smiled on the outside but harder on the inside as it's rare for people to show their true stoke, especially an hour after a wave.  Surfers these days seem to be so cynical (myself included) and want to maddog everyone (myself excluded).

5.19.18 Abortion of a Session from Onshore Playa Colorado to Panga Drops

I knew it wouldn't be great today as the wind had shifted.  I figured the crowd count would be down and, you never know, maybe I'd tuck into something good.

This time I kicked my sandals way up after seeing just how bad it was.  It was worth paddling out though, as a nice left wall presented itself to me.

I sat where not a soul was sitting.  About five minutes later, I caught a right and got hung up on the lip a bit.  My fins reconnected and I watched as the section detonated in front of me.

I dodged some relative mackers for about forty-five minutes before I gave up.

I walked all the way to Panga Drops sandspit, paddled out there and perched.  There were two dudes out but these were much more makeable, but still messy.  I watched a wave wrap around the reef and take a horseshoe shape which was really cool-looking.  I paddled over there and sat.

Ten minutes later or so, I paddled for a wave I knew I'd have to hustle for.  I missed it and a neverending set arrived.  I got beaten back about halfway to the sand and I was over it.  I paddled for a wave that had a pretty good amount of angry-looking whitewater.  It hit me so hard it made me pearl instantly despite my having my weight more on the tail.

The board slipped from my grasp, turned sideways and bonked me hard on the scrote/taint.  I was aching.  I felt around and both boys seemed to be in there.  I caught another wave in, got my sandals from my second stash spot and walked home bumming.

5.18.18 Running the Gamut from Playa Idaho to River Rights

Wishing to obey my wife's decree of me having to surfing my brains out, I paddled out after lunch.  I thought the tide would be most advantageous right around one-forty, but in hindsight I wish I'd paddled out a half-hour earlier.

I kicked my sandals off in the dry sand, then kicked them a little farther up in case the tide went higher in my absence.  I didn't dally this time.  I checked it for about thirty seconds.  The crowd was way down from this morning.  While the conditions weren't as good, the surf was more consistent.

I had two rights from the get-go.  Both were super steep.  On one in particular, I could've stalled from the pop-up and likely gotten barreled, but the prognosis didn't look good from where I was standing.  I kicked out, but mostly through the wave.

I then floated, more slowly than this morning, towards Playa Colorado proper.  Some mackers would come through but I seemed to be out of position for them.  One in particular looked glorious and another guy had priority on me.

By the time I floated past the beach club and to the river, the consistency had seized up, likely a product of the tide.

I got one right on which I had an ok snap, then pulled through due to my not wanting to be a part of its underwater demise and the correlating beating.

Not long after, I got the wave of the session.  It was another steep right, but it didn't close out!  The initial section was a little mushy, so I bottom turned and snapped.  I came back up again and did my best snap of the wave on which I threw a bunch of water off my backside rail.  I then went for a third in a really critical spot.  I got the feeling I was really pushing my luck and snapped a little early, but still up top.  I felt the wave heave and my board and I got a little bit of air and successfully touched down on the water's surface.

I caught a left and didn't like how it looked on take-off.  As I descended, it looked as though it would line up somewhat.  I tried to avert course from a standing island pull-out to a standard pull-in but was unsuccessful, though I did get a second of tube time.

I paddled for a wave and it was a questionable decision.  This wave was a little fat from the tide, a left, and I paddled really hard for it as I wanted to smash the section I was salivating over.  I came up with no speed on just tapped it, then fell back.

When I came up there was a massive wave coming for me.  I decided to try to beat it but it wasn't even close.  I shook my head and swallowed my pride and ditched my board.  I sank down and got immediately upended, then pushed way down.  Through my closed eyelids there was no semblance of light whatsoever.

Ever since my near-drowning episode in El Salvador in 1997, I've panicked after being tossed around underwater for more than ten seconds.  I've mitigated this somewhat by counting, focusing on the action rather than the tumult around me.  I remembered this about halfway into my submerged pirouettes and it seemed to work.

I came up, conscious to not bonk my head on my board.  Successful, I whipped my head toward the open ocean and, through swirling stars, saw another macker.  Down I went again and I got disoriented, but I relaxed my body until I finally hit bottom.

I pushed up, and after my second double-arm stroke felt a twinge of panic begin to crystallize, but then broke through the water's surface to the welcome sight of nothing more in the way of the horizon.

It took a while for me to catch a wave to take in, as I got caught in the rip.  Once I did so I was out of there, having spent about four hours in the water today between the two sessions.

I went sandal-hunting and was disheartened to see the tide had come up, way up onto the sand.  I thought, no way had I kicked my sandals high enough to avoid Poseidon's wrath.  I couldn't remember where I'd placed them but I walked until I thought they were gone.  I was bumming.  I thought, well maybe someone had put them up for me. 

My eyes scanned the sand some more and I figured they were gone.  I bemoaned my painful walk home during which I would be stepping on hardpacked dirt with sometimes sharp loose gravel strewn across it and then BOOM, sandals.  Some loving angel had taken the sandals I had so carelessly kicked and placed them together, waiting for me next to one of the beachfront houses. 

I looked around to see if the angel would reveal itself.  It didn't, and I walked home with a tired spring in my step.

5.18.18 Biggest Waves I've Seen on this Stretch of Sand

After an arduous 12-hour trip back from El Salvador (we did stop to eat and do a Pricesmart run), I was ready to get my trunks wet.  I've received word from m'lady that I am to surf my brains out as we will likely be leaving our new home due to the deteriorating conditions described in my previous post.

We've deliberated ad nauseam and the next stop will likely be El Salvador.  Chucho, our twelve-year-old purebred mutt, will keel over and then we will be more open to destinations, including within the US.

Today was about head-and-a-half and a touch bigger on the sets.  The swell had more west in it than I'd ever seen and the longshore current was sweeping us toward Costa Rica. 

I had zero highlights.  I got barreled on a right and didn't have a shot at making it, but I did see a guy get one of the sickest backside barrels I've ever seen in person. 

He dropped in on a right, went around the section and snapstalled way too high on the face.  He tucked down and threaded a heaving dry barrel.  As if that wasn't enough, he pumped just after exiting, then laid into a brutal snap at the top of the wave.  I saw air between the deck of his board and the wave's slope.  He descended it.  As he paddled past me smiling I gave him major props on it and he was very gracious.

The very next wave I saw another guy tuck into a pigdog stance and make a great barrel.

I also saw one guy get two nice barrels, both on rights.  After getting swept down past the barrel  sandbar, I got out and walked way north to try my luck again.  Unfortunately, I wasn't in the right spot at the right time.

One realization I had this month is, in most places, you paddle for the peak so you get as deep as possible and enjoy a much longer wall in the process.  Here, you paddle for the corner, as the initial peak will likely close out. 

5.12.18 Back to Balsamar, El Salvador, for the First Time in almost Fifteen Years

Our 90-day visas were up and it was time to get out of Nica.  We were gnarled out on the way to the airport as we're going through what very well may be the beginning of a revolution.  As a non-Nica, it is illegal for me to say anything political so I will leave it at that, no matter how infinitesimal the chances are of anyone consequential reading this.

My sister and brother-in-law are members of a club that has a nice beach club.  I'd surfed here on two occasions.   The first was with my cousin Ed in 2002.   I remember I caught a right and was struggling to make it without being left behind.  All of a sudden, the thing felt bottom and threw over.  I instinctively ducked down, got completely swallowed up in water and made what at the time was my first backside barrel.

The next time I surfed there was with my buddy Tim, who came down to El Salvador in 2003.  This time was also courtesy of Ed but I have zero memory of any waves, though I do remember it being lackluster.

I stopped at my buddy's hotel on the outskirts of El Tunco called Hotel Puesta del Sol.  My buddy Chamba (who three weeks ago moved to the US) told me he'd drop off my board at the hotel but unfortunately didn't, and so Chuleta was a real bro and went to get one from his other adopted brother, 23-year-old Tony (whom I've known since he was two).

When we first got there, the waves were simply going off with not a soul out.  We'd ordered food and I sat there taking in the surf porn in front of me.  It wasn't perfect, but it was head-high and rippable.  I wanted so badly to paddle out but didn't want to be rude to my sister and her family as they were our hosts.

The tide continued to drop as I bit into my food.  It eventually got downright crappy.  There were too many closeouts.  I'd BLOWN it!

I paddled out and on my first wave, a left, I began pumping furiously.  Nothing was happening, though.  It was as though my gas pedal had been disconnected.  The board was ancient, one of the yellowest I'd ever surfed but I couldn't figure out why it was dragging so much.

I had another wave with the same issues and eventually floated west and caught a right.  It was a little fat, surprising given the dropping tide.  I rose up and snapped.  I came down again and laid into a roundhouse cutty, pulled that, and the wave was done.

Unfortunately, nothing worthwhile came that afternoon and the morning looked even worse.

Still, seeing that magical hour was enough to make me fantasize about having a surf camp there.

5.9.18 Small Rising Tide Playa Idaho/Wyoming with Josh from High School!

The morning started off weirdly. While Chucho's and my limbs were still intertwined in a (mostly) platonic embrace, I heard something bashing into the front door.  I peered out into the darkness and there was a feathery mass seemingly melted into the ground.  I figured the feral cats had claimed another victim (last week, a baby possum had been placed near our front door Don Corleone style).

I opened the door and couldn't tell if it was a hawk or an owl, but figured an owl due to it having been out at night. It lifelessly looked at me with its eyes shining from the porch light, its head still the whole time.

The screen door through my only exit out of the condo would swing out within a couple feet of it.  I prayed for it to be dead or gone in the next ten minutes so I could surf without fear of being clawed.

While putting on sunscreen I heard a bustling outside.  I peered out again and it was now about six feet away from the front door and sitting as though it was warming eggs.  It seemed more alert and more out of its concussed daze.

It was time for me to go, as I'd made plans to paddle out at sunrise with a guy I hadn't seen in close to twenty years.  I'd seen on Facebook that he liked one of the tour operators here and messaged him and sure enough he was coming down.

The clock was ticking so, board in hand, I jarred open the screen door.  It loudly rubbed on the ground.  The owl came to, looked at me and let out a scared shriek.  It took off flying, showing off a massive wingspan, and bumped its head along the 3rd floor hallway ceiling.  It started coming toward me so I shut the screen door.  It then turned right and out into the night.

There are quite a few feral cats in the development and I hadn't yet been able to pet one.  Today, one came up to meowing loudly and I got some nice pets in.  I wanted more and she did too but I had to go.  She meowed at me as I walked away, then hurried in front of me and put herself in my way.  I fought my urges and walked around her as my heart shuddered while she meowed her disappointment.

I saw Josh through his window at the beachfront house in which he's holed up for the next few days.  He came out, gave me a bro hug, then grabbed his gear.  We surveyed the conditions, "It's empty!" was my take on the situation; it was almost completely flat.  I waxed on about how once the tide came up the surf would follow as we walked to Panga Drops.  We did see a sick wave reeling off.  Josh's eyes probed into its cylindrical void, lusting for the low pressure it had created in its abyss.

We flipped a bitch and paddled out at Playa Idaho, where we'd seen the barreling beauty.

Josh caught a couple that closed out almost immediately.  It took me a while to catch any closeouts of my own.

The two highlights were:

I caught a small left I got a pump on, then pulled into.  I barely got covered up, then saw what fate awaited me.  I doggy-doored it but got guillotined on the way out and down I went.

Josh told me "Yeah Eddie" as a right came.  I styley'd into it in my pigdog stance.  It threw over me pretty hard and I watched helplessly as it continued to do so yards upon yards in front of me.  As the wave and I became one, I focused on keeping my board away from me and THUNK!  My head hit the bottom and I came up smartin' somewhat.

This was a session over two hours in length, my longest since possibly 2011.

5.8.18 Quick Strike to Shitty Panga Drops Among Busyness of Brazilians

I knew it was going to suck.

I was aware of the wind, the short period swell, and on top of this had heard rumblings in hushed tones about the Breach by Brazil; one count I got was of about three dozen dudes!

For those not in the know, Brazilians, while far and away GREAT people on land, are absolute aholes in the water.  In Brazil, there isn't much in the form of surf etiquette.  My understanding (and I didn't learn this until late in my surf career) is that if someone can catch a wave, they go.

They take this practice, almost as a compass reminding them of the way home, with them when going on surf trips.   It's rare to even see them look if someone's coming!

I paddled out quickly, aided by the rip/sandspit, and caught my first wave within eight or so minutes of having perched.  It was a nice enough wave considering the conditions.  It was a really steep drop, about as steep as it gets at Panga Drops but then I immediately had to wait for the shoulder to catch up.  Once it did so, I faded a little, then began pumping.  Once I got some speed, I did a layback slash from which I wouldn't recover.

My second wave had a bit more oomph from the get-go, but a logging Brazilian caught it.  It's probably the best I've felt about having been snaked.  The guy was squatted in his action/stinkbug stance as though the thing was going to barrel over him and he was going to have to thread an imaginary freight train barrel.  He was pretty far ahead of me and I didn't feel the urge to yell or whistle. 

I went in to help ease the girls into their bedtime routine but it ended with me watching our eldest paddle my board around our condo complex's pool.

5.7.18 Marginal to Dismal in a Hurry at Playa Colorado

I was aching to paddle out as daddy duty (once because of Chucho) had prevented me from doing so the last couple of days.

I wasn't expecting much and not much is what I got.

There was an unhealthy amount of heads bobbing in the line-up, mostly towards Wyoming.  For this reason, I paddled out at Colorado proper.

I caught three waves in about an hour. 

The first was so memorable it escapes recollection. 

The second was a right which looked oh so pretty as it wedged just behind me, but then closed out hopelessly. 

My last was the best one.  I snapstalled and set up right next to the wall with muted expectations.  I enjoyed a millisecond of tunnel vision, but the lip for whatever reason hit me right in the head despite my superior positioning.

I sat for about forty-five minutes as the wind kicked up and made the waves ugly as sin.  The consistency suffered as well.  Though Wyoming was offering up more waves I had zero interest in battling that flotilla. 

5.3.18 From Just-Get-Wet to Just-Get-Welts at Panga Drops

About two weeks ago, I was messing around with my big toenail on my left foot while watching TV in the dark. It had been off-and-on ingrown and I was trying to fix it, caveman style. I felt a little bit of it stick out and I for whatever reason yanked hard on it.  It immediately bled and I spent the next couple of nights trying to fix the problem I'd worsened using tweezers.

I had a jagged semicircle of nail pushing into the side of my toe.  Walking hurt pretty bad, though I did manage to improve it somewhat after three excruciating hours of tweezing at it.

Probably the gayest thing about me, other than that one weekend in college I'd prefer not to talk about, is I go to get pedicures to cure my chronic ingrown nail issues.  I average about three times a year.

I sought professional help and walked down to the nail salon in the development.  She said she thought she could save the nail but it was going to hurt.  They gave me a bottle of rum and a cup and I took too little of it and swigged it down.  I spent an excruciating twenty minutes getting jabbed at by the half-Salvadoran, half-Nica María.  When she'd done as much as she could, she brought out what looked like a set of pliers.  That's when it really began to hurt.  I was biting into the plastic cup they'd given me for the rum and as quietly as possible wincing/writhing in pain.  My hands bit into the plush chair they had for nail work.  After a couple of breaks she told me I was good to go and to come out in a week to see how it was healing.  I asked her if I could go in the ocean and she said absolutely not, too many pathogens.  I was ordered to keep the toe clean and free of sand/dirt.

Of course, the surf began firing.  Looking at photos really tested my faith.  I was asked to go to the beach by my wife so I could help her transport the girls down there and I wore socks and my Chucks, greatly upping my kook quotient.

I walked down to Colorado after having been given a clean bill of health/all-clear from María the previous day.  It looked small and inconsistent, and there was a pack on it with THREE photogs on the sand and one in the water.  Wyoming looked similar but less crowded.  After watching it for five minutes, I trudged up to Pangas.

I saw what looked like a mysto wedge on the Colorado (to-be-named) side of Panga Drops.  It was empty so I just paddled there and perched.


 The waves were really tricky in that there was a sider coming through and perverting the waves' path.  I caught a couple of unspectacular ones there, though my second had a fun late drop.

I was unimpressed with the mysto wedge so I paddled to Panga proper.



For reasons unknown other than I'm a G, this song popped into my head as I paddled.

There were some overhead ones out but they usually had little to offer in the way of a shoulder/slope beyond the initial drop.

I started getting mauled by sea lice not long after making this decision.  First my right ankle was hit during a duckdive.  After duckdiving a couple more waves, I was hit in the right upper arm so fiercely it felt as though I'd been hit with a jolt of electricity.  Then I got hit hard in the forearm.

My right arm especially was buzzing.   The sea lice spread as it tends to do even if you don't spread it by touching it with your hands.  I made plans to go in.  I caught a wave late and kept up with it well, shuffling my feet up then back a couple of times so as to not be left behind.

On this wave, a section felt bottom and I was able to pump meekly and generate a little speed, but there was just nothing to off of which to even bonk.  The wave fizzled out completely and in I went, looking forward to showering so as to get rid of the stinging.

Before this my worst sea lice session was my last session of my first trip to Costa Rica in 2002.

Three hours later

4.18.18 Downright Nasty Playa Idaho

After enviously feasting upon the pics of yesterday's session around this time, I downright powerwalked the .8 or so miles.

It looked gross out there, but I figured that was from me trying to time it so it would improve as I waited.

The tide was coming off the low for the day, approximately two hours prior to my having paddled out, and man could you feel it.

Everywhere was racing off, but I was able to take advantage of the rip which helped delay the inevitable for a section, MAYBE two.

I had a wave that opened up a little.  I can honestly say I have never bogged so hard on a wave.  I zigged when I should have zagged and had my weight on the wrong foot every step of the way.  When the end section came I comically had no speed but still tried to do something. My board lazily met the section with nothing behind it.

I did better on another wave, pumping well and rising up as it threw over.  I luckily got to it before it threw but when I did my top turn, the bottom fell out of the lip and I was left squatting and planning my path towards not taking a fin to the rectum.  From both of us, I'm happy to report I was successful.

The last "high"light was a left I snagged.  As I popped up I saw a guy way down the line surfing the right.  I figured what's the best risk/reward ratio in this situation?  I tucked into the barrel and got maybe a tenth of a second of tunnel vision before I view was impeded by wayward water and way too soon, the lip itself.

I'm very close to catching it excellent out there.  Yesterday I apparently surfed in between two golden windows.  This just means I'll have to froth that much harder when I do catch it 8+/10.

4.17.18 A Little Late at Playa Colorado

I made the fateful decision to go to Rivas (90 minute round trip) to stock up on milk, Fanta, and other goodies for my family and when I got back I checked the pics of what I missed and seemed pretty close to epic.  There were still plenty of closeouts but the swell direction was a little more southern, which apparently seems to help open up some sections.

By the time I made it out there, the backwash was in play and it pretty much ruined the session.

I had a bitch of a time catching my first wave.  But before I did so I saw one of the sickest barrel rides I've ever seen in person.  He caught it, swooped down, snapstalled then pumped as the lip went over him, and he pumped a couple more times until I lost sight of him.  I craned my neck and saw him kick out.

So of course I had to go over there and try to get mine.  I spoke to him about it later and he couldn't believe he threaded the backwash window.  He also told me it had been amazing right around noon.

My first wave was smaller than his.  I also swooped and snapstalled, though I had to crouch more to get into the barrel.  Just as everything was lining up and I was admiring what was imminently to be a barrel view (as well as the view down the line of the wave lining up seemingly perfectly) the backwash hit and the lip hit me right in the head.  Gone.

A lot of paddling back and forth and I got into my second wave.  It was a really late drop and I barely got to my feet in time. Unfortunately, an older guy on a bigger board dropped in on me.  Luckily he ate it on the takeoff so there was no collision of bodies.  I was pretty pissed and remember thinking, "Bitch move" as I watched his board waggle towards me in the whitewash.

I kicked my board in front of me and went under.  He gave me the wave, then again as I got closer.  He apologized sincerely and I was proud of how well I handled it.  I said, "Don't worry about it man".  He said, "I'm really really sorry".  I replied, "It's all good, no worries!".

I would have been right to let him have it and I sure felt like it when still on the wave (especially considering how long I'd waited for it).

I'm going to take a break from typing this as I may have sprained my wrist patting myself on the shoulder.

I got back to the main peak and happened to spot a big wave.  The backwash hit it and I thought that would cause it to eviscerate me.  I stared at it as it came down and happened to get J U S T under it.  The guy eight or so feet behind me who was also sprint-paddling got mauled.

I caught another late one on which I thought about pulling back but I went for glory with no payoff.  I unfortunately had too much weight on my back foot and paid the price for this mistake by getting clobbered above and under the water.

 On my next one, a left, I put my weight way forward but there was no golden section at the end of the ride, just exploding whitewater which took me down and out.

My last wave was another closeout and this time I put too much weight on my heels and ate it, so at least I'm varying my mistakes.

4.15.18 Swampy on a Flaking Swell at Playa Wyoming

The tide was at its apex at about 2:30.  I left the condo around three thinking with a slow-ish walk I'd get to enjoy it a little bit more hollow with a little less backwash.

My new neighbor offered me a ride in his SUV.  I grabbed on to his roof rack and stepped on to his runner.  I got there the fastest I ever have from my place.  He has never surfed so I offered to teach him if he gets a board in exchange for his kindness.

Unfortunately, battling the wind's effect on my board at high speed was the most excitement I would experience during this session.

Every wave of mine was a closeout except for a couple.

I had another right which closed out right away.  I went for an immediate floater so as to make something of it.  I either put too much weight on my heels or my trajectory was bad from the get-go.  I was riding on top of the back of the wave although I did feel my fins catch and I began turning with them.  Had I been three inches closer to the beach I would have been able to say I successfully botched a backside taildrop 360 floater!

I pumped on a left and unfortunately didn't unweight my front foot when going for a lip tap (in preparation for gathering more speed for the upcoming section).  I bogged hard and ended my ride prematurely.

My last wave was a left and I was able to pump and do a pretty good cutback/slash on it as it fizzled.

There was no magical ride on a wave today.  And there was no magical ride back home.

4.12.18 Ugly Sideshore Playa Wyoming

Oof it looked bad out there.  The wind was whipping it and the surface of the sea reflected that.

I hemmed and hawed as to whether to paddle out at Wyoming.  I once again, like yesterday, started walking towards Panga Drops, having written off the beachbreak.

A few corners came through.  They weren't anything remotely special, but compared to the barrage of constant closeouts their siren song was strong.

I had five or six pump-to-oblivion waves sprinkled throughout the following more noteworthy waves:

I caught a left and it had the slightest of corners.  I pumped once, then rose off the bottom and smacked the lip decisively and stomped it.

 My favorite wave of the day was a right.  I thought it was going to close out because that seemed to be today's wave m.o.  It did, but I rose up right out of my drop and levitated onto the lip.  I was pretty behind the lip itself and I felt my tail dragging turning my nose slightly to the open ocean.  I threw my weight over my frontside rail and stomped that, absolutely shocked I'd pulled it.

I saw a local pro drop in late on a right that just started barreling.  I duckdove out of his way and two seconds later I saw him do an aborted alley-oop.  He was the most amped I'd ever seen anyone down here and for good reason.

I thought I had to try to score one of those.  I paddled to where he'd caught it, hoping for another pulse from the same swell direction.  Twenty minutes later, still nothing.  I eventually caught one half the size of the one he'd caught and tucked into my first pigdog stance in forty-four months.  I got more foam on the head than lip, and I eventually gave up.

I was amped on the way I'd surfed considering the conditions and am enjoying the confidence boost.  I feel as though I'm surfing better than when I stopped in August of 2014.

4.11.18 PM Dropping Tide Playa Idaho

I calculated that at fifteen steps every ten seconds, and at ninety steps a minute, it takes me about twenty minutes to walk 1800 steps to Playa Colorado.  At 2.33' a stride extrapolated out to sixty minutes, I'm walking at about 2.38 miles per hour. 

You see, it's this bitchin content which keeps the hits coming to EddieSurfs.com!

As is tradition, I slightly got my hopes up when seeing and hearing the closeouts past the estuary (and an estuary it will stay until the rains make the rivers break out).  Playa Colorado itself was EMPTY.  This would have been unsurprising if you'd been there looking at it with me.  The best sets were racy to the point of being unmakeable and the average ones were close-outs.  I overcame my temptation to try to find a golden corner where conceivably none existed.

Playa Wyoming looked better, though still very racy.  After watching it for a couple of minutes and seeing dudes getting gobbled up by the whitewater, I resigned myself to having to resort to Panga Drops to get my surf jollies.  I walked slowly, eyes on the ocean.  I saw a guy take off on what looked like a disaster northwest of Playa Wyoming.  I muttered to myself, "Why even bother?".  He hung on, pigdogged and got a slight cover-up. 

That's it, I had to surf here.  It was the first made barrel, albeit slight, I'd seen in months.

The tide was dropping though the backwash was still hitting some of the waves.

A lot of paddling around and jockeying for position later, I was in position for an overhead banger.  I made the drop with no issue, and felt my face contort into panic as I pumped up hard, then down.  I tucked down slightly and I was enveloped in the squarish barrel (likely a product of the tide and the angle of the wave hitting the bottom in a weird way).  I did another pump in the tube, this one less ambitious.  It felt like I'd backdoored the section that initially enveloped me, then I made it through another section before the foamball worked me.  I surfaced energized.

I went on another wave after a guy farther up the line couldn't catch it.  I tucked in and this one didn't benefit from bathymetry/swell angle synergy.  I barely fit inside it and it tunneled off without me.

Little by little, guys started filing in to the beach much to my delight.  Then a panga showed up.  Guys in the panga were wearing t-shirts and there were fishing poles visible so I hoped they were fishermen.  But the fact that they were anchored off one of the premier waves of the area didn't bode well for my optimism. 

Sure enough one, then five boards were thrown overboard followed by their riders.  It got semi-crowded again.  It wasn't bad at all with them in the water, but the further dropping tide meant there would be fewer rideable waves from which to choose.

I caught a right and did a drawn-out bottom turn, smashed it in a tight arc but turned into the whitewash and lost stability with no fin bite in the water.  I also managed to punch myself in the side of the head with my thumb knuckle somehow as I was underwater.

The first wave described was a doozy and one that will get me amping for my next go-out.

4.10.18 SlumpBustin' at Panga Drops

Before this last sabbatical I was averaging a session per day for the month.  Then I got busy, the surf shrank, and I got sick (again).

Today the stars aligned and I paddled out.  I spent ten minutes or so this morning bodysurfing and getting thwomped in unmakeable barrels.

I really thought with the swell filling in there would be some decent ones at Playa Colorado but when I walked over there it was laughably unmakeable.  I solemnly turned right and walked to Panga Drops, thinking of all of the money these poor souls spent on likely their only surf vacation of the year.  They could have waited a few months and gotten better waves at Zuma than today 😔.

I eventually made it over to the sandspit and paddled out.  Surprisingly, there was no one out and it was overhead.  The tide was almost at its abyss, but the sets were rolling in somewhat.

I pretty quickly caught a left and did a styley-feeling cutty after a late drop.  I ended the cutty halfway up the face to give myself some slope and mitigate my chances of getting blown off the back of the wave.  I semi-succeeded, for about five seconds.

I took a beating from about five waves then made it back out.  I decided to try the rights as they seemed a lot better so I paddled towards them.

Within ten minutes, I had a look at a good-sized right.  My body was saying let's go, but my heart was saying no.  It looked unmakeable as there was a big section in front that was threatening to fold over.  I felt the wave lift me up and I hooted myself into jumping up.

Another late drop and sure enough, the section imploded.  There was no way out and I was rapidly losing position and in danger of being caught inside by its younger siblings.  I jumped off and  literally skipped across the surface of the water before the wave entombed me.

I surfaced and yep.  I was screwed.  I was caught inside by a nine-plus wave set and before long I was over it.

4.5.18 Different Story at Panga Drops

I checked this blog and the last time I surfed twice in one day was the first time I surfed Panga Drops, a mere 1346 days ago!

I paddled out with aching muscles given my extended session and wave count this morning and I had the opposite experience.  I paddled around, paddled around and was beaten out by others in better position time and time again.  The peak would shift, and someone else would be in a better spot.  It became maddening.

Eventually, I caught a left and had a nice bottom turn but was beginning to fade off the wave.  I then thought I had a chance at reconnecting but the backwash hit and ended my ride.

I looked back and thought about paddling back out but a set came and I was OVER IT!

4.5.18 Overhead and Busy at Pangas

The paddle-out was less vicious than I expected and I perched about forty yards inside of the guys on big foam.

I caught a bunch of waves and even managed TWO (2) maneuvers on one.  It was a nice though fat left and I did cutback and slash on it before it petered out on me.

The highlight was a late drop I took on a left.  The thing jacked up and sectioned off in front of me and I had to pump gingerly, almost in the flats, as the avalanche bore down on me.  I did a top turn and got hung up unfortunately.

I had another big left and when I went for a floater I got a weightless puckering sensation. The wind slammed on and blew me out the back.  I laughed in relief underwater.

4.4.18 Early PM Playa Colorado Close-Outs

Taking a paragraph out of my previous blog entry, I decided to paddle out at a time other than around sunrise or sunset.

There was a bit of a crowd at Wyoming and one approximating that at Colorado.  I paddled out on the Gigante side of Colorado to try my luck there, as most of the pack was sitting at Colorado proper.

My first wave was a quick right.  I managed to get a pump on the face of the wave which I quickly aborted and turned down.  My nose dug in just barely but I was left standing.

I pulled back from many-a-closeout until my next wave.  I swooped around the initial section and set my line, I was about to pump when out of the corner of my eye I saw the lip throwing over.  I ducked down just in time and was shocked to see the spinning cylinder of the barrel. While hooting (inadvertently),  and hearing the echo, I watched as the next section over threw over and then the one in front of it.  If I was in there for over 1.5 seconds I'd be surprised.

Nothing else worth writing about came and I eventually went in after close to two hours in the water.

4.3.18 Traffic Jamming into Steepness

There was a slight uptick in swell and the tide was about right so I took that walk down to Colorado.  I've counted my steps, and at about 2.33' per stride, 1800 steps to wet sand is about three-quarters of a mile.  This amount doesn't include the walk back or walking up the beach once I figure out where I will paddle out.

It was nice seeing bigger waves today.  It was not so nice seeing the headcount multiply as I got closer to the water and obstructions fell away.  We are definitely in surf season.  I'm hoping the rains begin soon even though it means we will have many mosquitoes and gnarly humidity.

While I saw a lot of waves breaking today, I don't think I saw more than one makeable one.  Every wave on which someone went would lead to a meek display of their board tombstoning or their head poking out barely above the surface, slowly being led to slaughter over the falls. 

It's frustrating, but at least there are waves!

I caught my first left about ten minutes after having paddled out.  I made it around the initial section, then saw a slabby section about ten yards long jack up.  I pulled through the wave, but the force of it made me go over the falls.  I kicked my board out in front of me and covered my head with my arms and hands.  No impact came.

A LONG time passed, and I caught another left.  Every wave in the interim looked juicy while paddling for it, but a look in either direction betrayed its intentions with my body.  I popped up and immediately regretted my decision.  I kicked the board out.

About a half hour later, I caught my final wave.  I got hung up on the lip and airdropped.  I pulled it and there was nothing there.

Word on the street is the crowds visiting here love surfing early in the morning as that is what they are used to in the States.  The correct play is to wait until ten and if the waves look decent you paddle out and get a few while they tourists rest up for the afternoon session.

4.1.18 Small Crisscrossed Wyoming

The swell was supposed to be increasing but unfortunately, the tide was as well.  I realized the backwash would be in play and it certainly was.  Waves would come and be almost inevitably be hit by backwash.  The faces were blocky and looked like windwhipped stairs.

The head count at PC proper made it unpalatable to me.  Wyoming was a little more spread out.

My first wave was within ten seconds of perching.  It offered nothing but a drop.

I paid for my quick wave by waiting twenty minutes for my next one.  I dropped down, got a quick pump in, then rose up and smacked an off-the-lip.  I heard a satisfying THWACK and rode away
smoothly.

No other waves of note came and in I went.

3.31.18 Backwash Blitzkrieg at Wyoming

Yesterday evening we met some friends at the beachfront house they manage.  The surf looked abysmal.  I had low hopes for this swell.

This morning while walking to the beach we happened upon a guy I've surfed with and he said it was fun yesterday around noon.

I decided to paddle out at a similar tide to try my luck today.

I slathered on the 50spf sunscreen because I would be out in the dreaded 10-2 baking window and took the walk.

I saw a party of three in the parking lot and asked them their thoughts on the conditions.  They said it was fine, but a little backwashy.

Sure enough, I walk out and there is the backwash along with no one out at Colorado proper.  I paddle out there with the understanding I'd be getting swept out towards Wyoming.

I reminded myself to try a foam climb when waves would inevitably close out on me.

My first wave of note was a fast left.  I got enough of an angle on it that I could pump.  I came down off that and came up for a risky second pump.  I was flying down the line aching to blow any section that had the guts to present itself to me but nothing came and I got batted off my board.

I had a similar wave but this one had a nice steep section for an off-the-lip. I rose up and smacked it well and while completing the turn  the backwash hit and down I went.

I caught a right and smacked it nicely, but got hung up on the lip.  For whatever reason I jumped off after about a second-and-a-half when I probably would've made albeit for not much of a reward.

I then caught my best wave of the day.  It was another right.  I made it down, bottom turned, then averted course for a quick pump.  I bottom turned again then saw a section and I immediately recalled one of my first waves from July of 2012  There was a small section in front of the wave and just at the right time I obliterated it in a really tight arc as its big brother pushed from behind. I had so much speed and the wave closed out.  I went for a foam climb and got really high but with no plan and fins releasing into the drink I went.

This was definitely the best turn I've done since 2014 (but then I took two long breaks between then and 2017)!

I was over getting baked in the sun and when the waves went quiet for twenty minutes I bailed.

3.29.18 Understandably All Alone at PC

Welp, looks like more of the same!  I spotted some corners that at least gave the illusion of opening up.  Once out there, though, it was tough to even get a pump in at the top of the wave.

I caught about five waves.  All of my drops felt critical.  My one mistake was on a right where I thought about going for the barrel and bailed on the idea as I wouldn't have made it.  It would have been nice to get barreled going backside though for the first time in nearly four years.

I'm still having issues shutting down when the wave closes out and/or leaves me behind.  I need to start harnessing these opportunities for foam climbs.

I walked on the beach to Panga Drops but that wasn't worth the paddle

3.23.18 Double Dipping from PC to PD

The waves had dropped and I considered taking my Tomo out for a spin.  A gust of wind convinced me otherwise.  Stringerless boards are in general less flexible and forgiving in chop, and there was a fair chance I'd be dealing with a fair amount of this today.

I walked all the way down to Playa Colorado.  There wasn't much out there, but there was something.  I paddled a little bit away from the crowd and within ten minutes I was rewarded with my best wave there in a while.  It was m a y b e chest high.  I managed to catch up to it with some deft pumping and harnessing all the speed pockets I could.  I did a mini top-turn and then went for a floater but I didn't rotate my shoulders enough and I splayed back.

After a few closeouts I was over the worsening conditions and increasing chop.  I hadn't put sunscreen on much of my body as I had my jacket.  I didn't want to take it off halfway back and get roasted, so I decided to walk up the beach to Panga.   There, I thought I would at least paddle out and re-wet the jacket so I wouldn't roast in that on the shorter walk back.

It was an eventful walk.  The high tide had left some sand-encompassed pools of salt water.  I was nonchalantly walking through them and I sank so fast on one step; it's the closest I've come to cartoon-style quicksand.

Then I spotted a dead fish.  It wasn't small, but it wasn't big enough for a meal either.  I figured there was a chance it would reanimate if placed back in the water but it was definitely dead.  I wanted to give it a proper send-off in the ocean and maybe feed an ocean creature.  This solidified my resolve to paddle out at Panga.  As I waded out, I balanced it on the deck of my board.  Once I was ready to start paddling I grabbed it by the tail and as I wound up and just started my throwing motion it slipped out of my hand.  So fishy if your spirit is reading this, I'm sorry I didn't give you a good send-off into deepwater.  May your purgatory at inside Panga be short  and may you be consumed by a worthy being through which you will continue to live.

There were two dudes out in the now wind-whipped conditions.  I paddled inside of them and stayed there for a few minutes, giving them a chance to snag waves before I got priority in the rotation.  I then spotted a peak to the south.  The paddle was rough, as many times I was paddling through rough troughs (did anyone catch the same word three times in a row?), rendering my efficiency terrible. 

About ten minutes later, I paddled my ass off.  I caught a wave and made it down, then had a quick panic that the wave was going to pass me by.  I was able to squirt enough water through the tail and the wave linked up with the next peak down the line.  It developed a wall and I gained speed.  I nice foam coping formed and I went up and did a floater/rock-and-roll completing half the maneuver before the wind snatched the board away from me.  If I'd kept more of my weight on my heels I would have been golden. 

No other noteworthy waves came and I went in in my refreshingly wet jacket.