My usual internet beach report data source is offline. It's a great resource with a camera pointed at the beach and a weather station showing the last 72-hours worth of data. But it wasn't working so I used an alternative, which lead me to believe it was a little too windy. The NOAA weather forecast told me Sunday would have less wind. Well...
I got word mid-day on Saturday that the morning had been clean enough to surf, although not great waves. I had already missed my window to go to the beach, and I was hopeful I had made the right choice to wait for Sunday. I knew hadn't at 5am Sunday when the wind reports were in the double-digits in some places, and the waves went from small and clean (Saturday) to small and junky Sunday.
There should be a word for that feeling when you realized you've made a mistake, but it's 24-hours too late to fix it, and you'll have to wait a whole work week to make up for it. "Adulthood" kinda works, but feels cynical. "Hindsight is 20/20" is similar, but doesn't describe the feeling. It needs to convey regret, with nobody to blame but yourself, but also knowing you were trying to make the best decision. The opposite, driving to the beach on Saturday to find it un-surf-able, then to find Sunday is better but you can't go, is worse. I think it's worse because at least on Saturday I was productive taking care of chores and rushing through a board repair. After a bit of moping, I was productive on Sunday too. No wasted gas, no wasted time. I even got some exercise. Very little, but more than nothing.
Monday, September 24, 2018
Monday, September 17, 2018
Got one
I had the chance this weekend to get that V-pin into some waves. I went out to Sunday morning Pleasure Point, just me and a hundred others. I stuck to Sewers hoping to find a pinball wall. I got one really good one where the board held a line and speed as the wall ran with a bit of throw of the lip. No barrel, just a nice run with the curl.
There were more than a few surf matters out picking up all the small ones that passed below the main lineup. That used to be a wave I could shoulder hop to keep myself occupied while I waited for the wide swinging waves. Instead I stayed occupied watching the matters take off in the barrel, run the short peaks, ride waves together, and generally have a good time. I absorbed some of the stoke radiating off of them, but needed some actual waves to feel satisfied. So I paddled over to Rockview.
There were a few beginners out at Rockview and I offered advice on how to catch the tricky wave to one guy. He told me he was on a borrowed longboard and didn't want to smash it. I shared my story of once riding my fathers longboard at Rockview many years ago and on one wave driving the nose strait into the reef. He didn't think the story funny, but I told him it hadn't happened since! The on the next wave history repeated itself and I drove the V-pin into the reef. I stood up in waist deep water, flipped the board over and saw what I didn't want to see. Split open glass with mud in the crack along the nose, and a nice ding on the other side of the nose to match. I headed o the beach.
So after one good wave and no more than three other waves, the V-pin needs repair. I walked the board back home thinking I'd throw on some swim fins and take the mat out to Rockview. When I got home the door was locked and I hadn't brought a key with me surfing. It was a beautiful morning and it made perfect sense that my wife and little guy would want to take a walk, play on the beach, do anything except sit at home waiting for me to return. So I wasn't all that mad as I sat in my wetsuit on the front porch for 30-min waiting for my family to come home and let me in. (Not unlike a dog in the rain.)
Even with only the few waves I got I could tell the board felt good under me. I need to fix it, and be more careful next time. I have to remember to not force it and ride the right board for the conditions, even if that "board" is a bag of air, or even just my body. I have plenty of options on hand specifically so that I can take full advantage of whatever the ocean offers. No need to take a longboard to a nasty little slab!
There were more than a few surf matters out picking up all the small ones that passed below the main lineup. That used to be a wave I could shoulder hop to keep myself occupied while I waited for the wide swinging waves. Instead I stayed occupied watching the matters take off in the barrel, run the short peaks, ride waves together, and generally have a good time. I absorbed some of the stoke radiating off of them, but needed some actual waves to feel satisfied. So I paddled over to Rockview.
There were a few beginners out at Rockview and I offered advice on how to catch the tricky wave to one guy. He told me he was on a borrowed longboard and didn't want to smash it. I shared my story of once riding my fathers longboard at Rockview many years ago and on one wave driving the nose strait into the reef. He didn't think the story funny, but I told him it hadn't happened since! The on the next wave history repeated itself and I drove the V-pin into the reef. I stood up in waist deep water, flipped the board over and saw what I didn't want to see. Split open glass with mud in the crack along the nose, and a nice ding on the other side of the nose to match. I headed o the beach.
So after one good wave and no more than three other waves, the V-pin needs repair. I walked the board back home thinking I'd throw on some swim fins and take the mat out to Rockview. When I got home the door was locked and I hadn't brought a key with me surfing. It was a beautiful morning and it made perfect sense that my wife and little guy would want to take a walk, play on the beach, do anything except sit at home waiting for me to return. So I wasn't all that mad as I sat in my wetsuit on the front porch for 30-min waiting for my family to come home and let me in. (Not unlike a dog in the rain.)
Even with only the few waves I got I could tell the board felt good under me. I need to fix it, and be more careful next time. I have to remember to not force it and ride the right board for the conditions, even if that "board" is a bag of air, or even just my body. I have plenty of options on hand specifically so that I can take full advantage of whatever the ocean offers. No need to take a longboard to a nasty little slab!
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Early Memories
I was inspired by pranaglider's latest blog post to write about my own early surfing memories.
I recall going on vacation with a friend to a condo on the beach in Coronado, San Diego. We had cheap bodyboards but no fins. We were in grammer school, and I wasn't a good swimmer when I was that young, and the surf was not small. Regardless, we spent hours trying to walk/hop/swim/paddle our bodyboards through the lines of whitewater. We were never successful in getting through the broken waves. After what felt like a long time, so was probably about 20 mins., we would agree to give up and go in. The sand was boring so we would return to the water several more times each day, trying our best, but never succeeding. Nothing to show for it but raw nipples.
I recall my dad taking me and that same friend to "The Jetty" in Half Moon Bay. The waves were smaller and easier and we could walk out to where they first flopped over. We rode waves strait to the beach until we were to cold to continue. We had so much fun we convinced our other friends to buy cheap bodyboards and come with us. This opened up more parents to drive us, more friends to frolic with, and the fun continued through high school. By high school it was a tangent to the "real" surfing I was doing, but I never missed an opportunity to go ride waves up onto the sand with my friends.
The best part of those early days at The Jetty was my dad could park at the water's edge and watch us. Watching us play in the waves stirred his memories of surfing back before his career, kids, and the Vietnam War tore him from his carefree high school life. He borrowed a way-to-small funboard and took a trip to Santa Cruz with a coworker who surfed. He didn't invite, or even tell me, what he was doing. I understand now that he didn't know if his body, wrecked by a desk job, alcohol, and smoking could survive the ocean.
He barely survived, but found his old stoke. I come back into the story when we bought wetsuits, the longest boards we could find (pre-longboard resurgence) and started making trips to Santa Cruz every weekend. He got healthy and I got stronger and the rest is for another time...
I recall going on vacation with a friend to a condo on the beach in Coronado, San Diego. We had cheap bodyboards but no fins. We were in grammer school, and I wasn't a good swimmer when I was that young, and the surf was not small. Regardless, we spent hours trying to walk/hop/swim/paddle our bodyboards through the lines of whitewater. We were never successful in getting through the broken waves. After what felt like a long time, so was probably about 20 mins., we would agree to give up and go in. The sand was boring so we would return to the water several more times each day, trying our best, but never succeeding. Nothing to show for it but raw nipples.
I recall my dad taking me and that same friend to "The Jetty" in Half Moon Bay. The waves were smaller and easier and we could walk out to where they first flopped over. We rode waves strait to the beach until we were to cold to continue. We had so much fun we convinced our other friends to buy cheap bodyboards and come with us. This opened up more parents to drive us, more friends to frolic with, and the fun continued through high school. By high school it was a tangent to the "real" surfing I was doing, but I never missed an opportunity to go ride waves up onto the sand with my friends.
The best part of those early days at The Jetty was my dad could park at the water's edge and watch us. Watching us play in the waves stirred his memories of surfing back before his career, kids, and the Vietnam War tore him from his carefree high school life. He borrowed a way-to-small funboard and took a trip to Santa Cruz with a coworker who surfed. He didn't invite, or even tell me, what he was doing. I understand now that he didn't know if his body, wrecked by a desk job, alcohol, and smoking could survive the ocean.
He barely survived, but found his old stoke. I come back into the story when we bought wetsuits, the longest boards we could find (pre-longboard resurgence) and started making trips to Santa Cruz every weekend. He got healthy and I got stronger and the rest is for another time...
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