Threading the Needle
Once you become a weekend warrior, you appreciate your sessions that much more. I was always happy that I could surf. Every day I surfed was a day for being thankful. Now that I can only surf on the weekends, seemingly mediocre conditions are fine with me. Crowded conditions? Hey, at least I can just get wet and keep my gills from drying out.
I surfed RPB this weekend because just about everything else was flat. When I looked at the cam yesterday morning, I saw lines. They weren't big lines. "Epic" was not part of the vocabulary for this weekend. However, I wanted to be in the water. Had it been flat, I would have sat there, happily reflecting on nothing in particular.
Well, I found waves. Where they came from, I have no idea. Sunshine. Warm weather. Waves. Familiar, smiling faces. That's what I experienced on Saturday. I turned to someone and said, "This is the best session ever!!!" She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. I guess I had. I was that happy to be in the water.
This picture from yesterday's session caught my attention when I first saw it. It's not because I'm threading the needle; I had no intention of running over the back of that old man's board or of decapitating Tae. What I find interesting is that I'm surfing differently as a result of, one, riding a mid-sized hull and, two, riding a skateboard. I'm beginning to surf off my front foot. I initially thought I must have been preparing to cross-step, but then I remembered that I don't cross-step in a situation like; I wait until there's no one around for me to run over . . . or spear . . . or decapitate. I was certainly surfing off of the front foot.
Sunday? Same beach, but it was pointless. The waves weren't consistent. The wind got on it. The crowd got on it. Oh well. I was still happy to paddle out. I'll be stuck behind desk a for the next five days. Now that's the routine that can get old while surfing goes back to being the thing that excites my stoke. Absence does make the heart grow fonder.