I’ve been in the water a lot recently. It’s been nice. Last week I had two familiar encounters that brought me back to a headspace I hadn’t been in for quite some time.
The first situation took place on Wednesday. A small, yet fun day out at the pier. Not too packed in comparison to a regular day, but there is always somewhat of a crowd out there. Clean, glassy, chest high peaks rolling through a very clear turquoise water. A lot of fish around.
I’ve gotten rather patient in the lineup these days. Especially when surfing around the pier. I don’t want to be paddle battling someone for every other wave. I find it a big waste of physical and mental energy. I now choose to sit out the back and wait for a choice wave to approach me. I’m a changed man. I used to roam from peak to peak, up and down the beach, back paddling and snaking like a grom does.
So there I am, enduringly waiting for my own wave on the outside, minding my own business, when a nice looking left is approaching me from the south. I take a couple paddles north to position myself not too deep behind the peak, in a great spot. I see buddy spinning on the shoulder. Back zip wetsuit with holes in the back that look like a cat got at it. Yellowed, potato chip surfboard with 90’s stickers adorned on the nose. Balding middle-aged man. I’m in the spot – I whistle. He paddles. I’m under the thing. I holler – “YO!” I’m angled, I get up. No looks back, he goes. One of the most blatant burns I’ve experienced in years. I bottom turn and kick out just behind the tail of his board, and paddle back out with a smile on my face. “Did you see that?” I asked my friend, laughing.
I try not to do that. At least not anymore. When I was a cocky little asshole, I would take off on people I thought couldn’t surf. And my personal threshold for being able to surf was a bit harsh. Basically, if I didn’t think you ripped, or at least surfed better than me, I would at least think about taking off on you. I would even go on my closest friends. You should ask them. But as I said, I’ve changed.
Now it’s Thursday. Waves are not what they were yesterday, and neither is the weather. A bit of side shore wind with a brownish-green water. It’s still rather clean on the face, but it’s different. Feels more like a windswell, and a little smaller. For one reason or another, the crowd is thicker than the day before.
I can’t remember a distinct turning point by any means. There was no direct event that corresponded to me quitting my burning habits in my surf career. Don’t get me wrong though, I will still go on someone who actually can’t surf. But when I say that, I mean it. It has to be a true learner – not quite standing up all the way, and/or only going straight. If you’re unable to ride down the line, I will go in front of you. And of course, accidents do happen.
There I am again, about 15 feet further out than the next guy behind me, wondering if this fall weather will keep the wind down for the day. Here comes another left, this one a bit further down the beach to the south, but stretching across the sandbar. A few strokes to secure my spot from any encroachers, and I’m in a good zone. About 100 feet deeper than me, I see a guy having a paddle as I’m turning to have a look. No way is he making this. I’m on a peak. Even if he gets to here, it closes out right here for him, he can’t get around this section. There’s a whole nother wave to be surfed right here. Split second decision. I’m paddling. I was out a little far. Head down, 4, 5 swings of the arms, juuust sneaking in. Up to my feet and setting the line – “HEY!” No fucking way. Here he comes, screaming down the face and to the bottom of the wave, steering right around the section I just took off on. Sheesh. That was cold. I kick out, tail between my legs.
It was some younger kid, maybe in his 20’s. He didn’t say anything, but I got the vibe as he paddled back up the beach and past me. Trust me guy, I know. It was an accident. I wasn’t going to say sorry though, not unless he said something to me, which didn’t happen. I think he knew it was a fluke.
Moral of the story – look twice.
Cheers,
hwilsin