She Who Would not be Denied
After saying I wouldn't get in the water after all of the rain we had late last week, I did get in the water. Mind you, I won't paddle out into dirty water. Ever. I know many others who do, whether they be weekend warriors or those who can surf whenever they please. I'm not willing to throw caution to the wind. I tend to be cautious by nature anyway. I don't know what it means to act impulsively. Just about everything I do has been thought out ahead of time. This is probably one of the blessings that comes from my complaint about inability to get out of my own head at will. I think about everything. So when unexpected situations arise, I'm rarely surprised or caught off guard.
I was prepared to suffer through a dry weekend . . . until I awoke to sunshine on Sunday morning. The sun calls to me as much as the ocean does: "Surfsister . . . come out to plaaa-aaay!!" Hmmm. Sun is out. Rain has abated. Could it be possible that the surf is up at TPWSRN? I checked the only cam I trust. It's also the only one I pay for. I trust it because it gives a nice, clear picture of the ocean. Granted, it provides views of breaks nowhere near where I planned to surf, but it will give me what I need most: swell direction and tide. Once I saw that there was some NW swell in the water, I decided it would be worth it to check TPWSRN. That break, even after it rains, remains clean. It isn't spotless, but it does maintain a passing grade (usually a B or a C) because it receives no run-off from L.A. I decided I would go take a look.
I didn't take a surfboard. If the spot had anything, it was going to have to accommodate me and the mat. Why? Well, the dirt trail was sure to be muddy and slippery. (Remember, I'm always in my head and had thought about this.) I could just envision myself falling after my shoes caked with so much mud that they could no longer provide proper traction. Then, of course, that made me worry that I could potentially ding both myself and a board. My irritation with a dinged board far outweighs my fear about dinging myself. You know that, right? It just seemed like the mat was a better choice given all of the variables.
As is typical, it was sunny and warming up when I left my house to go check the spot. Once I got to TPWSRN, I was met with a biting wind and cloudy skies. But I saw waves, even with the tide coming up. I saw waves. There were a few people in the water trying to get what they could. That's enough for me. I saw waves I could ride.
The trail was muddy. My shoes got caked with more mud than I thought one pair of zombie apocalypse-ready Vans could handle. I did not fall. I'd promised myself that if there was trash all over the shore, I wouldn't get in. That's usually a sign, no matter what the beach, of serious run-off and serious pollution. At least, that's a clear sign when you're at L.A. beaches. Much to my delight, the shore, as usual, was clean.
I blew up the mat, donned my fins and got wet!! There wasn't a lot to catch due to the rising tide. Still, I was able to get a few. One of them was an absolute screamer that had me grinning ear-to-ear during the ride as well as the kick/paddle back out to the lineup. I'm always happy to get wet, but there are those sessions when one wave makes it all worthwhile. That was the wave.
I don't know how many waves I caught. It really doesn't matter. I don't keep score. A week's worth of stoke was mined though. That's all I was trying to do.
(This post was written from my desk at work. In terms of work for today? I've got nothin'. So here I sit, telling myself to hang tough because they're still paying me to write. It's hard though. But here I will stay until it's time to cut out.)