My 1st Surf Contest: FAIL.... kinda

The background:
Three of the four days prior to the contest I surfed multiple sessions in Puerto Rico until my arms couldn't paddle anymore. The night before the contest I slept only three hours before getting up at 1 a.m., driving to the Aguadilla Airport and flying back to Florida. I landed in Orlando at 6 a.m. and drove straight to Bethune Beach (site of the Contest) so I only had the equipment I packed for Puerto Rico... in other words no wetsuit. I did not sleep on the plane, but opted to watch the movie "Up" over "G.I. Joe" instead.

The reason:
Brian has been bugging me to surf a contest for months now so I figured this was better than never. I'll try anything once and while I have little desire to surf contests nor do I fully understand how they work, I figured I might as well give it a shot at least for the experience, not to mention I'm a curious person.

The story:
Saturday morning was a classic Autumn-like day on the east coast of Florida with a twist. A Nor'easter had pounded the northern states for the prior week leaving a swell in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricane Ida had passed through the gulf coast in an easterly direction and out to sea causing west winds along the central east coast of Florida. With the swell and offshore winds it was an above average day for surfing. Head high sets rolled in with moderate periods. The waves weren't hollowing out, but were on the edge almost feeling as if they want to and just need a little more push. Perhaps a tidal change. Looking back it's obvious that I under estimated the conditions having surfed much bigger waves in Puerto Rico the prior few days.

Initially I was not going to enter the contest. I came to scout the south beach area while another friend went north with the goal of finding the best waves. Brian, Jeremy and Blythe were already at Bethune. Brian already entered the Open Men's Longboarding Division. As I arrived the surf looked really fun and clean. My friend scouting the north drove down to meet up with me, but while I was waiting for him, Brian convinced me to enter the contest. Jeremy entered it as well. The folks at the "Before the Fall" Pro Am contest could give us no real idea of how long it would be before our heat would begin in our division. This was frustrating. I felt as if we had to wait around all day to be called just to surf a 20 minute heat. I just want to surf. This is why I have long felt that surfing contest are NOT for me and also not considering myself skilled enough to be competitive.

On a gamble (not knowing when my heat would be called) I told my friend, Bob, that I'd surf with him for a while. Bob had somewhere to be later in the day and I could tell he wanted to surf with someone. He was not entering the contest. Besides, I wanted to surf with Bob. He's a super cool longboarder and I'm always stoked to paddle out with him. The water was colder than what I was acclimated to so I wore a long sleeve 2mm top that I borrowed from Brian. This worked out well, but Brian wore a full suit and ended up being too hot and wanted the top back for the contest forcing me to wear a short sleeve top. I took it easy so not to wear out my arms. The waves were fun and clean and after getting a feel for them I felt as if I could actually rip a few of them up and score some points.

After the warm up session with Bob the waiting fest begins. Heat after heat competes, but still no Men's Longboarding Division. Hours go by and finally they give us notice. We are going after the next heat and since there is only one girl registered in the Women's Longboarding Division she is going to surf with the men. She's a talented local longboarder that also works in a surf shop here in town and I'm stoked because of the five of us in our heat only one person is a stranger to me. This is going to be like surfing with friends on any given day I tell myself. A contest official calls my name and hands me a light green rash guard. Brian scores a blue rash guard, Jeremy a red, Kristen a yellow and stranger gets the white (they have us wear these so the judges know for sure who is who). I'm told to surf as many waves as possible and they take the best two waves to score you. Jeremy and I joke around about a twisted strategy while we're waiting. Since we both feel Brian is the better surfer and Jeremy thinks he doesn't have a chance we joke that I'll drop in on and snake Brian on all his waves and they'll disqualify me (the thought of contest officials telling me to never come back makes me laugh), but ruin Brian's chances for a good score and give Jeremy a fighting chance! This is all good sarcastic fun and we'd never really do that to each other.

Longboarders tend to be so much more laid back and mellow than the shortboarders. This is a generalization of course, but more often than not if you hang out with a group of longboarders you're going to have a good time regardless. The contest is allowing five minutes to paddle out and then they blow an air horn indicating the 20 minute heat has begun. As we're waiting for the go ahead on the paddle out we are all talking casually on the beach. Jeremy borrows some wax from me and then I decide to put a little finishing touch on my board. I look up and everyone has left me and they're already in the water paddling out. I didn't even realize someone said "go." .... shit, it's game time!

I toss my wax in my pocket and sprint to the water to catch up. It's funny how quickly the seriousness of being competitive can take over the vibe and spread like Ebola virus in any sporting environment. I hit the water fast and hard and immediately gasp from the chill. I paddle hard not only to stay warm, but to catch up. Since the warm up session hours before the conditions have changed drastically. The wind switched to a north wind and that has crossed up the waves a bit leaving it choppy. The tide has changed from flooding to ebbing and the long shore current is now pulling south like nobody's business. We entered the water well to the north at the advisement of the contest officials with the hopes of staying in the boundaries or contest box once we make it to the outside break about 300 meters offshore. I paddle at a 45 degree angle to wear I'm heading. If I was an airplane I'd be crabbing into the wind. I lose sight of everyone except Kristen in the yellow jersey. She's slightly ahead of me and gets pushed back by a large set wave. I turtle roll the same wave, but recover much faster. Soon I find myself past the break and in the midst of several female shortboarders finishing up their heat. I yell to one of them, "is your heat over" and she gives me a stupid look. I look at my stop watch. It's been 4 minutes. I look behind me and see that I've made it to the outside ahead of the rest of my competitors. Kristen soon arrives on the scene and Jeremy and Brian are a little south. I look to shore and realize we're on the southern end of the contest box about to drift out of bounds so I start paddling again north. I hear the air horn blow and now our heat is officially beginning.

At first there's some hesitation and we're all kind of clumped together fighting to stay in bounds. Brian goes for a wave and backs off. Kristen takes a wave and nails it going toward the right (north). Jeremy passes on a wave so I turn into it and pop up making a fast bottom turn to the right. It's a four or five second ride and I complete one cutback and a fadeaway. Then it begins to close out so I exit off the lip not wanting to get caught on the inside. It's my first wave and it felt really good. I probably could have done a floater into the foam ball, but it's early in the heat. I'm amazed at how strong the current is pulling to the south. The contest is running two heats at once in two different boxes. We're in the southern box and a shortboard division is in the northern box. As I'm paddling to stay in my box I see several shortboarders drift by as they can't keep up with the current. Suddenly it's apparent that these are not the ideal conditions for a contest. The strange thing is the current subsided a little while after our heat almost as if it were only there to pick on us.

I look at my stop watch and we're three minutes into the heat so I've been going full strength with no rest for 8 minutes. I know I need to calm down and pace myself. I feel like I just ran a 6 minute mile. My arms are a little sore from surfing in Puerto Rico and my body is tired from lack of sleep. But, it's a contest and I'm fully involved in the moment. Another wave approaches. It looks good and I'm in the best position. I look left and right and nobody has priority over me so I drop in and take this one left for the hopes of a longer ride. It's a smaller wave so I push it a little to far thinking I might get more points for a long ride. Eventually it begins to close out on me. Hmmmm, how about that floater? I cut back on the lip and try to line my 9'0" Walden up to go down the top of the white wash, but it stalls leaving me to fall into a void of aerated water. A few seconds later I surface, flip my board over and begin to paddle back to the line up. But, before I can get there a set wave crashes down before me. I turtle roll, recover and fight to make it back out before the next wave arrives. I FAIL. The next wave is larger and I'm in the worst spot. A spot that you can't turtle roll. A spot that endangers your board in that it could break it. A spot where the only thing to do is push away from your board and dive to the bottom. I do this and get under the wave, but the leash drags me back a good distance all underwater. When I surface again and get back on the board a third wave arrives and forces me to abandon ship again. This time I'm dragged underwater even harder and in the middle of all the roaring water I hear a loud "pop" followed by a release in pressure upon my leg. "F*ck," I yell underwater as I realized my leash has just snapped.

It would be just my luck that in my first surfing contest the conditions go to hell in a hand basket and my brand new leash that I bought only five days prior breaks leaving me in a dangerous situation. I've had a few leashes break before, but this one was the worst possible situation. I'm located just on the verge of the outside break about 300 meters offshore after riding a wave to the left (south) leaving me outside the contest box. At the time I couldn't figure out how nobody could see me and my situation, but now I realize the judges are only looking at surfers riding waves plus I'm only a head in the water now making me harder to spot despite the bright green jersey I'm wearing.

My first instinct is to get back to my surfboard. Only problem is I can't see it anywhere. The bigger problem soon becomes the fact that I'm exhausted from paddling out, surfing waves back to back and then taking three large waves on the head before my leash broke. I can't get my breath back. I'm in colder water than what I'm used to and only wearing a 2mm short sleeve top. Unlike most people I'm negatively buoyant in saltwater because I'm so thin. If I cramp up I'm dead. Trying to put that thought out of my head, I start to do the natural thing and swim for shore. Swimming in rough conditions is tricky. You have to pay attention to the waves around you. You can't just put your head down and swim like you would in a pool. Several waves break right in front of me. I try to dive below them, but get tossed around like a rag doll. I still can't get my breath. I turn around and can see Brian about 100 meters away paddling away from me. He's fighting to stay in the contest box. I yell out to him, but then realize how silly the thought of him hearing me over the crashing waves is so I look back to shore and triangulate position. I've already drifted a few hundred meters south of the contest box. This leaves me about 1,000 meters from the judging tent and the lifeguard tower. Still no sight of my board and I still can't seem to catch my breath. Then it happens.

I puke then dry heave and puke again.

It happens so fast I can't believe it's happening to me. I've never barfed from exhaustion before. I've hurled from being ill and also from injury pain, but never from exhaustion. I'm so stunned by the fact that I'm actually puking I fail to notice a wave breaking right behind me. It engulfs me and my body involuntarily decides it's a good idea to drink some saltwater to wash out the puke. This promotes a few seconds of uncontrolled coughing that seems like an eternity. I regain my composure still not being able to catch my breath and all of a sudden that lifeguard tower starts looking more and more appealing. I've never counted on a lifeguard to save me before. I've never even considered the lifeguards good for anything other than say helping me if I get bit by a shark and only after I make it back to the beach. I've even joked that the lifeguards here don't even pay attention to surfers, but right now in this moment I decide to give him a wave. I'm also a scuba diver and I know from diving that if you surface and wave your arms from side to side it's pretty much the universal signal for "help me dude!" I still can't catch my breath.

After about 5 seconds of waving I soon realize that it's taking up more and more of my energy to wave and the chances of him seeing me are slim. Last I saw him before the heat he looked like he was half asleep.* I stop waving and feel an odd sensation overcoming my body. It makes no sense at all. The instinct to panic is a strange one. Panicking is basically a death sentence in my book. If you panic you lose the ability to think rationally and usually kill yourself in the process. I've been around the water all my life. I'm extremely comfortable in the water, yet right now the thought of panicking is actually appealing. Perhaps my brain is hypoxic since I can't seem to get enough oxygen to catch my breath and I'm not thinking rationally? It's now that I feel a sense of anger coming about me. I series of thoughts fly through my head. Things like I should have checked the leash since it took a few strong pulls in Puerto Rico and if I was wearing a full wetsuit I'd be more buoyant. Then things like where is the next set of waves and does that look like a rip current over there? Then the movie "Major League" of all things pops into my head. I think of the character that prays to his god named "Jobu." At the end of the movie Jobu is failing him because he is about to strike out and he looks at his bat and says "F*ck you Jobu, I do it myself!"

I'm getting no love from the lifeguard. My surfboard is gone. I'm out of sight of my friends. I want to panic. The only person that is getting me out of this situation is me. F*ck you waves, I do it myself! Anger overcomes the instinct to panic. I fight and I fight. I flip over on my back and attempt to float in the hopes of catching my breath. This works, but takes a while as I have to frequently dive under breaking waves. Just when I think I'm getting close to a sandbar where I might be able to touch bottom the waves subside a bit and the texture of the water changes to something I know all to well, a rip current. Usually in rough surf I seek out these holes in the sandbar that funnel water out to sea. It's the easiest way to get to the outside when you're floating on a surfboard. Now is not one of those times.

I turn and swim toward the south at a 90 degree angle to the shore, with the long shore current and eventually make it through the rip current, but I feel like I'm back where I started on the outside. This happens a second time, which pisses me off even more. Adrenaline flows through my system as if I've injected myself with heroin. I fight and I fight some more. After 22 minutes (yes, somehow I kept track of time on my stop watch) from the point that I took the second wave that ultimately snapped my leash I feel the bottom. I'm on the sandbar and I can't only barely touch, but this gives me a boost of the "I'm almost there" feeling. I'm able to rest between waves crashing down and finally catch my breath enough to swim through the slew and crawl up the beach. I swear I wanted to kiss the sand!

Almost immediately an extremely intense headache overcomes me. I recognize it as a side effect of all the adrenaline my body just used to survive. I spot my surfboard about 75 meters south of me drifting in the slew. I thought it would be washed up on the beach, but like me it was also having a hard time getting to shore. I forced myself to swim out to get it and then I begin the long walk back to the contest tent. I estimate I drifted 3/4 of a mile. Upon being spotted by my friends and competitors they gave me the "what's wrong with you" look and had no clue that I had just fought for my life. The crazy thing is we stuck around for the awards ceremony and I got third place. I couldn't believe it, but the two waves I rode (my only two waves) counted enough to get me third place. Brian got second and the stranger got first. Unbelievable!

The Lesson Learned:
Contest are not for me. It was fun and I can see how it can be exciting, but I'd rather just go surf on my own schedule and agenda. Despite surfing with friends that would usually be watching out for each other, none of them even saw what happened to me because they were so involved with their own ability to surf the contest. This experience strengths my believe that panic in any situation will kill you. The fight instinct can save you if used correctly. I'm not sure if I would call this a near death experience, but I am certain if I wasn't so comfortable in the water that I would have panicked and drown. That's a crazy feeling to have and ponder. It makes me thankful to be alive and appreciate the things and people in my life.


*No offense to the Volusia County Beach Patrol. I truly believe you do a top-notch job saving hundreds of swimmers each year from rip currents. I've even assisted from my surfboard before in saving swimmers, but as a surfer I feel like the lifeguards don't expect us to get into trouble and that is completely fine with me and a fact I accept every time I paddle out.

Two Waves

Fun swell this weekend...
Not sure where it came from...
Calm offshore winds graced us...
The Weekend Warriors bombarded us...
Managed four sessions between Saturday and Sunday...
Here is a glimpse of the sessions told in only two waves...


The water is warm and glassy. The wave forecast is holding true. To the south I can see hundreds of torsos and heads floating between the waves. To the north I see the same. Some are on longboards with more floatation allowing more of their bodies to be seen above the water, but most are on shortboards. I am straddling a longboard; a 9'0" epoxy Walden Magic model that is solid blue on the bottom and a faded light blue on top. It's name (I name all my boards) is Papa Smurf (because of its color) and it's a performance longboard meaning that with its hard rails, increased rocker, squash tail, side-bite fins and large center concave it's designed to rip up a wave with the most speed and maneuverability that a longboard can bare. The only thing it isn't made for is noseriding. I like Papa Smurf when the waves are large and powerful and a little extra speed and drive is comforting. Today I borrowed a small 6-inch center fin from a fellow surfer to try in place of my normal 8-inch fin. The idea is it will give even more speed and maneuverability to the board on the initial bottom turn after dropping in on the wave face.

The ebb of the ocean has past. The slack low tide turns to a steady incoming tide. I can tell because instead of staying stationary with little drift only caused by getting too close to a rip current we are now being pull north toward the mouth of Ponce Inlet. I've triangulated myself between my Jeep Wrangler on the beach and a spot locally known as 3/2 because of some pavilions along a boardwalk that are highly visible (there are three pavilions close together and then two more a short ways down). By doing this I can tell when I'm drifting. I can also keep myself in a specific spot in the ocean where I feel the waves are breaking the best. There are no landmarks in the surf and you cannot see the sandbars with our murky shark invested water.

Shadows appear on the horizon and a few surfers (the experienced ones) and myself start paddling and repositioning ourselves. These shadows are the first indication of an approaching set of waves. Being on a longboard is a huge advantage in a crowd like today (the largest crowd in recent memory) because sitting higher up gives a better field of vision to see waves first and get into better position plus with more floatation it's easier to paddle into a large wave earlier as the shortboarders have to wait for the wave to peak up more or they won't be able to paddle fast enough and the wave will leave them behind. On a day like today I'm super "aggro" (aggressive) and almost cocky. I have to be. The way I see it, I'm better than 80 percent of the people in the lineup. Most of the crowd is due to it being a Sunday and a favorable forecast. The familiar faces are here, but for every one of them there are 10 unfamiliar faces. If I'm cocky and aggro without being an A-hole about it and I'm in the right position (not dropping in, snaking or cutting off anyone) then 9 out of 10 surfers just think I'm better than them and backoff, which scores me lots of fun waves to ride.

The shadow on the horizon is now only seconds away. Four maybe five large waves approach. The secret it out! Thirty, maybe 40 surfers in the path of this set turn their boards and beginning paddling, acting if these waves belongs to them and only them. However, I'm further out than any of them. I let the first wave pass. They can fight over it. Sitting high upon Papa Smurf I can see there is even a bigger wave beyond the second wave so I let it pass as well. The third wave approaches. I swing Papa Smurf around 180 degrees and start to paddle. Being out this far is going to require a lot of speed to catch this wave before it reaches the wolf pack of surfers closer to shore. I imagine my paddling as an "act of violence" against the sea. Each stroke is harder and deeper. My entire body swings toward the arm giving the stroke. My legs swing back in forth to add more weight to the arm that's paddling. I feel the wave picking me up and my speed increases. I lean back to keep the board from pearling (nosediving). Looking left and right during the final two strokes I check to see that no other surfers are on the wave yet and that I am in the best position for wave priority. The wave excepts me and I feel its power pulling the surfboard along; no more need for paddling. I pop up to my feet, look both ways again and decide to go toward the right. This is considered frontside since I surf a regular stance (left foot forward). The wave has not crested yet. It continues to grow in size. I work my way down the wave about halfway and try to pick a line on this wall of water before me. The line of surfers on shortboards quickly approaches. I call this line the "asteroid belt" because it reminds me of playing a video game and dodging asteroids in a space ship. This is my asteroid belt, Papa Smurf is my space ship and the cresting wave is my thrust. Most of the shortboarders duckdive under the wave or paddle in a direction that gets them out of my way, but there's always a couple that have to be "dodged." This time the asteroid belt clears out leaving a perfect wave before me. I can tell from experience that it will break in a uniform manner allowing for a long ride along the face of the wave just in front of the breaking white wash. I manage my speed by working the board higher or lower on the wave. I see that the incoming tide is giving more push to the wave. This wave is so large it might become hollow. Leaning toward the inside to stall the board, I squat down low and allow the wave to break over top me. I'm 6'6" tall and I've hunched down to probably less than 3-feet almost into a ball. Tucking my head down flush with one of my knees I can see the lip of the wave breaking just inches over my forehead. I feel my inside shoulder brushing the wall of the wave. For an instant I'm in the shade. I'm blinded as water splashes into my face. Instinctively I lean my body weight to the outside to gain some speed and I'm shot out from the barrel (or tube) as it collapses behind me. About 20 feet ahead of me the wave is closing out (no more clean wall to ride, only whitewash) so I pull off a quick bottom turn and shoot over the lip of the wave leaving it behind. The energy of the wave still seems to be pushing my board as I continue for another 10 feet or so behind the wave before laying down on it. The ride is over. It's the ride of the day. A successful barrel!

Sometimes I feel like Mother Nature has a sense of humor. Sometimes I feel like every blessing She gives is met with a consequence. "Here's the wave of the day, now you have to pay for it!" As I attempt to paddle back to the line up past the asteroid belt I'm met with a set of breaking waves. The first wave is expected since I took a middle wave of the set. I turtle roll under it and pop back on top of my board and continue paddling, but there's another wave and another and another. One or two waves on the head after a great ride is almost expected, but six or seven? What the hell Mother Nature?!?!? It's just down right annoying. I finally force my way through the impact zone and back out to where I am perfectly triangulated between my Jeep and 3/2.

Another shadow is on the horizon and I'm already in a great spot. This may make me look cocky or like a wave hog, but I'm going for it. Two in a row! Still high from my barrel and lusting for another, I commence another "act of violence" against the sea paddling furiously atop Papa Smurf. The wave takes me. I'm up and deciding to go left toward my backside. The wave is steeper than the last. Perhaps I should've committed toward the right, but I never allow myself to hesitate when I'm in this position. I must be fully committed or "bad things" will happen. It's just me and the wave. All time stops and nothing else matters at this moment. It's... just... me... and... the... wave. It jacks up and I lower my right knee to the board laying my lower leg flush horizontally with the board. My left leg (front) is bend 90 degrees at the knee and almost in a squatting position. My right (backside) arm reaches forward and grabs the outside rail of Papa Smurf digging the inside rail into the wave face as my left arm is outstretched for balance. This is called "pig dogging" and it's the only way I know how to make the bottom turn on a wave this steep without getting pitched out in front of the lip. I try and stay ahead of the violently breaking water behind me. Then I see a shortboarder dropping in 15 feet ahead of me. He's NOT looking around and has no idea I'm coming at him like a rocket. There are now three choices for me. 1.) continue down the wave face, probably getting a barrel and if I make it out of the barrel run over the shortboarder to his surprise and risk injury to either him or myself and perhaps damaged or broken surfboards. 2.) Turn down the face of the wave, hope it doesn't break on top of me and be pushed back into the impact zone where paddling back out is a bitch! 3.) Attempt a quickly little bottom turn and try to shoot or launch myself over the top of the wave landing behind it and hopefully not being sucked over the falls. Being lazy and not wanting to end up in the impact zone or being accused of attempted murder as I run over the shortboarder (he looks like a small guy compared to me) I decide to take option number three. This option results in an epic FAIL. My bottom turn is too long and the wave jacks up to its peak. I jump hard off Papa Smurf, but the the lip of the wave hits my back just above my hips. This punches my body forward and I land somewhere on the face of the wave. I immediately feel the power and suction of the wave lifting me upward. At the same time I feel a hard object flush up against my body. It's smooth meaning it's the bottom side of Papa Smurf (no wax surface) and this also means sharp fins somewhere nearby. NO BUENO! I feel the lifting power of the wave cease and a falling sensation begins. "Oh God, out of all the places to be on this wave this is the worst," It think to myself. The last thing I want to be next to in this situation is Papa Smurf. Surfers have been killed by their surfboards in situations like these. The impact is quick. I'm tossed around like a ragdoll. There is no sense in fighting it. The best thing to do is just remain calm and conserve oxygen. I feel a blunt pain in my leg and know that some part of Papa Smurf just slammed into me. Other than that I'm soon comforted by the fact that I'm deep underwater and that means the surfboard is NOT near me as it will be floating or bobbing up and down at the surface. The wave holds me down for a few more seconds and then releases her grasp. I surface, ignore the pain from my newly bruised and maybe bleeding leg and paddle back out to the safety of the outside. Then I check my leg. I'm not bleeding, just bruised. It could have been worse.

From wave of the day barrel to wipeout of the month one right after another. There's no real need to talk about the rest of the session when that pretty much sums it up!

Point Break in New Smyrna?!?!?!

Today is my day off from running.

My alarm clock rings at 7 a.m. (hell yeah, sleeping in!) and instead of going straight to work I decide a surfing pit stop is necessary to get the day off to a good start.

I meet my buddy JB as the beach ramp opens at 8 a.m. The inlet is already crowded at New Smyrna Beach. We paddle out. The ocean is as glassy as an oil slick with the sun glaring intensely off the surface. The choice waves at the best spot are about chest high, but there is a strange vibe in the water today. It's not negative, just strange. JB feels it too. The normal crowd is not out. We paddle south to another sand bar that is a little shallower in hopes of picking up some longer lines to surf. After an hour I'm just not feeling it and I tell JB I'm headed in to go to work.

Drying off at my truck, I decide to cruise down to the jetty and climb up on the rocks in the hopes of getting a few decent or amusing pictures of the short boarders aggressively dropping in on each other at the most crowded and peaky spot. It's something I've been meaning to do for a while and today is perfect since it's right around the full moon high tide. The water is high and I'm able to get out far enough on the rocks to be shooting down the line at the surfer for a different perspective than the usual direct from the beach shot.

Immediately I notice Austin, a local college student who works part time at a surf shop, sitting on his long board INSIDE the inlet completely alone. Earlier I saw him paddle north, away from the pack and wondered where the hell he was heading since it looked as if he was going out to sea. He's a phenomenal longboarder and when I see him I know what's up. New Smyrna Inlet rarely breaks on the inside where the boats come and go from. The swell has to be from the right direction and the tide has to be high enough. Right now there are both! I take a few pictures and then notice a local pharmacist that's another amazing longboarder along with his wife a couple of their daughters paddling out. I'm getting some really great pictures of all of them and starting to muster up some energy to join them when JB climbs up the rocks behind me. He's also wondered down the beach and found me. It's on! We grab our boards and join the fun.

It's a super fun vibe now as there are only eight of us with the entire inside of the inlet to ourselves. Only 100 feet away on the other side of the rocks lie about 200 guys on short boards snaking each other, fighting and dropping in on each other for a wave that's not nearly as clean and long as the one we are surfing. Stoked out of my mind I ride wave after wave with these wonderful people. The vibe in the water is everything! The rides are long... nearly the length of a football field and they all begin at one point near the rocks and peel off to the right toward the Intracoastal Waterway. Point Break at New Smyrna Beach??? You bet!

After a half hour the tide starts pushing out and the wind picks up out of the south. That oil slick glass turns into a slightly bumpy texture and the consistency of the wave deteriorates. The fun is over, but I'm stoked for the rest of the work day!