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         An interesting situation arose while I was having great surf about two months ago that I would like to share with you. I thought about writing a post in dedication to this state of affairs immediately after, but I decided to let the emotions settle. I was hot.

         The waves were extremely fun, maybe chest to shoulder high, and running briskly along a super shallow sandbar. It was by far one of the most fun sessions I’ve had in about a year. It seemed like every other wave would give a slight opportunity to sneak behind the curtain. It looked far too quick from the beach. Not walled, just too speedy to keep up with. I had been in the water everyday for the past week or so, and I felt confident it would be worth a paddle. The tide was dropping, which wasn’t going to help, but there was still enough water to get an easy drop-in before the wave threw and raced down the beach. It looked like one turn, or the possible fractional vision of paradise was the most one could muster from this day. I was all over it.

         I think the look of the conditions from the beach is what kept most people out of the water. There was also a slight fog rolling through periodically, plus it was cold outside. When we paddled out, there wasn’t another surfer within earshot of my cousin and I. The main peak a bit north had a few heads on it, but I was bewildered at how empty the water was.  I distinctly remember duck-diving my first wave, coming up, and seeing an empty, emerald-green right, spitting, about 50 yards in front of me. I was screaming. Off-my-head amped. Keep in mind it was only like chest high, maybe a little bigger on the sets. My cousin got in my ear about exactly that later in the session. I was psyching, trying to tell him over and over to squeeze in and ‘get a vision’, and he promptly let me know to shut the fuck up and just let him surf. Good on him. He also briefly made me feel like a little bitch. “You’re screaming over 1 foot barrels bro, good for you.”

         I know he knew it right away – this instantaneously put me on edge. I was having a blast out there: in my own head I was fucking ripping (on a couple), I got my fair share of sights down the tube, and I know he saw me make it out of a barrel earlier that I was still stoked on. Plus, I was catching a ton of waves. And now I’m in a whole different headspace, paddling aggressively against the current, when I take notice of the few heads that managed to drift down to our peak.

         It was only a handful of guys, maybe 10 at the most, but every single one of them was driving me nuts. You ever get that in a session? That guy on the long board is paddling for every fucking wave you want, but he’s not getting into any of them. Then a bomb comes and of course he gets it. The older cat that is riding a short board but definitely should not be, due to lack of arm stamina, and he’s sitting on top of you. That weirdo riding the gun casually drifts into every-damn-wave. Everyone out there was pushing my buttons. Which leads me into the riveting situation that started this story..

         I was ready to catch the next set to come through, no matter what. A few sets came and went, each one containing at least one wave that looked like absolute nugget to me, yet I had nothing to show for it. I must admit, at this point I was so agro I’m sure I was browsing eagerly at every ripple coming through. I hadn’t caught a wave since the wincing moment my cousin made my feel like an imbecile, so my tensions were building when I saw a lump out the back and I found a good 10-20 yards of space between myself and the next craft rider. Before even getting my first real glimpse of the shape of this wave I had already decided to go. The old, withered-arm long boarder had just made his way out the back again, and I ruled him ineligible for this particular force of energy approaching. My only threat was one other bloke inside of me, about 20 yards closer to shore. I figure he isn’t going to make it out in time, so I started positioning myself as I paddled over the first wave. I realize I am just a bit wide for the roller I’m waiting for, so I start paddling a bit north, closer to the peak, which happens to be in the direction of this detachable-hood wearing older gentleman. As previously mentioned, he is at least 10-15 yards closer to the beach than I am now, but he does have the inside position on me. I am turning around and starting my first paddle into the wave when I hear him whistle. As I said, I was already determined on going, and I was not in the mood for this fucker to call me off.

         I proceed to take off, and as I am standing up I take a quick peak back to see this feller giving his last stroke in, and starting to stand DIRECTLY under the lip. There’s no way he’s making the drop, and if he is, he can’t keep up with me (thoughts in my head). Just in case, I go ahead and pump way down the line, and before I hit the bottom I take another glance to ensure I’m not being snared. As expected, nobody around, so I order up the usual round of disappointment I am served when trying some stupid shit on a closeout section. Anyways, I come up from my fall, pull my board up and look back down the line to see Grumpy Boy about 40 yards north, bee-lining towards me.

I jump on my board and start straight towards him. We meet a little bit closer to my end of the rainbow. Screaming, this raisin looking elder dude goes,

“WHY DID YOU THINK YOU COULD GO ON THAT WAVE?!?”

I chuckle, look back over my shoulder and point to the white wash on the beach,

“That wave? Oh, I did go…”

He whips his hand back like Aroldis Chapman and splashes as much water as possible, about 6 inches from my face.

“I KNOW, I WAS RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!!”

I continue to laugh, laying on my board less than a foot from him, but not saying anything. He gets on his board and turns away from me, peeks at his foot, which is now sitting above the nose of my board, and he feints a kick.

I nod to him, giving the approval like go fucking do it, so he push-kicks the nose of my board.

         Quick interruption. I am not a fighter. I am not big. But, I happen to be loud, and I have a quick temper, I just usually deal with it in a civilized manner. However, I am not a yellowbelly.

         Calculating my equation at the time: I am embarrassed from my cousin calling me out, I am disgruntled from not catching the waves I felt I deserved (???), and now I am ferocious at this big old kook trying to give me shit/borderline ambush me. My dream-like session turned into a mini panic attack in minutes. The situation didn’t escalate any further than that, and the ensuing details aren’t much to note, but none of that is the point of this post.

         What I really need help with is this – who was in the right of way for that wave? I was sitting outside about 15 yards further than him, but he was inside of me (closer to the peak) by about a long boards length. I once got called on an interference in a contest for doing something similar, except we stood up much closer to the same time. In this situation I was standing up before he had even ceased paddling. I have been “burnt” by countless number of loggers in this same exact situation, and they don’t even think twice about taking off in front of me. I personally don’t feel like I was in the wrong for going on this wave, but this gent clearly did. Nothing serious happened at all, and if the same opportunity presents itself I just may act similar, but first I need some answers.. who’s wave was that?

If you have any comments, questions or concerns, I would love to hear.

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-hwilsin