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!