Slap in the Face

"I get no respect." --Rodney Dangerfield

The waves were overhead and the north wind was blowing offshore at Shorties on Monday night, creating ideal conditions for an after work surf. When O.S. and I finally made it to the logs facing the cove, it was nearly 6:30, so we charged straight in. We timed the paddle-out perfectly and made it without having to duck any of the set waves that would pile in every 10 minutes. There was a group of five other surfers out there that were absolutely ripping. One would take off on an A-frame peak, completely disappear from view, and before you could ask yourself what direction he went, a board would slash like a blade over the back of the lip--all the way up to the fins--and snap back down, sending a cascade of water in its wake.

The peak shifted around the second creek area to the north of the cove. There was really no way of telling who would be lucky enough to get the biggest and best shaped waves. I had a couple good rides, but seemed to be getting weird vibes from another surfer who was nearest to me. A few waves before, he dropped in on a wave and went right and I nearly went left toward him, but pulled back. I apologized for almost getting in his way. He just gave me a look that resembled a person who smelled an offensive egg fart.

A few minutes later, a big set wave rolled in from the north and started feathering behind me. The stink-eye guy had been catching some insiders and was well out of position for this one. With O.S. yelling, "Yeah Chum!" I turned and stroked into it confidently, and surged forward with the same sensation that Barry Bonds must have when he lays pine on a baseball and knows it hit the sweet spot. As I jumped to my feet, I noticed that the guy inside was paddling into the wave on the shoulder. Normally, I call a person off to avoid being dropped in on ("beep, beep!"), but this time I didn't have to, because when I laid into my bottom turn and reached out to drag my hand I must have been going pretty fast--my glove slapped the face of the wave so hard that it popped like a firecracker. The guy jerked his board back and I flew by, just working the green wall as hard as I could, feeling the speed and watching the swell reshape and re-bowl several times.

It took me forever to get back to where O.S. was sitting and when I finally did, he said, "I thought you wiped out, because I heard a big smack after you took off." I just laughed and told him about what happened. Then I thought about this blog and about how nobody would believe how good it was if One Speed wasn't there to witness the session. Am I just getting lucky? Or is there another factor, something magical in the woods, bringing me good fortune at Shorties?

The Fiery Furnaces "Paw Paw Tree"

PS - I grabbed this photo off of the Short Sands area of Magic Seaweed because it looks similar to the conditions we had on Monday... Thanks, whoever!