Surf Machine Update

a.k.a. "One Man Enters, One Man Leaves (in a clumsy hurry)"

I woke up before my alarm this morning. 5am. Got ready and drove up the hill to pick up Gordie. He was very encouraging, saying the waves yesterday were great, and that he thought today should be the same. I figured it didn't much matter as I was planning on sticking to the inside (closer to shore) as possible. When we got there, the waves were a pretty good size, with maybe a 6-8' face, with bigger ones rolling in on occasion. We met with Steve (neighbor from up the road) and Haili (Steve's daughter) who go surfing nearly every weekday morning. I caught the expected mix of razzing and encouragement, and one warning to stay inside.

So finally it was time to get in the water.
Gordie decided to hang out on shore for a while, and Steve and Haili paddled out towards the point. I waded out a ways, put the board in the water, and started paddling to the spot Gordie had told me would be a good spot. That seemed to be going ok.

And then it wasn't.

I got caught in a spot where the waves breaking to the left meet up with waves breaking to the right. And since the ones to the left were stronger, the kept pushing me along the seam, further south and further inland.

I was going to do a whole inner monologue thing here, complete with interruptions by the waves, but I'm tired and it'd be long and difficult and as I already think I'm ready for a nap, you'll just have to excuse me if I skip it. Thanks.

So next thing I know, I'm at the south edge of the beach, in knee-deep water, and still getting knocked around by waves. I look to the far end of the shore, and I see that Gordie has gotten into the water and is heading my way.

Too bad, because I've already decided that I'm getting out here and walking back to the north side to get back in.

I start trying to navigate my way out of the water lugging this 40+ pound board with me. Please keep in mind that this is not a sand beach, and I'm walking these 30 yards to the grass over what are essentially slimy wet bowling balls. And if I do slip, which I did, I've got ho fall in a to protect the board, because not only is it not my board, it's also an antique which everyone feels the need to comment about.

So I finally make it out, and Gordie climbs out, and I sit there on a picnic table checking the place out and catching my breath.

The place looks like a washing machine. All of the big waves are closing out fast. The little ones are all whitewash, and bumping into each other creating a sort of chaos. No wonder I was having such a difficult time!

So we left.

I picked up some blueberry creme cake as comfort food.

On the upside, Steve offered to let me use one of his boards if I want. As it's lighter and less valuable than Gordie's, I think I'll be taking him up on that offer.

And just because I've had another troubled day, don't think you've heard the last of the Surf Machine. There's certainly more to come.