Earning the Right to Yell "Score"!

Ah, the hazards of scoring a decent L.A. break all to oneself. One minute I was standing on two feet in the shorebreak. The next minute I was . . . not.

When I paddled out, I was thinking that getting back in would be a dangerous task, one fraught with much trepidation about injury to either my person, my board or both. The high tide, which was getting higher as I basked in the glory of scoring TPWSRN to myself for an hour, had forced me to spend a good five minutes trying to time my entry into the water. Just when you'd think it was safe to make a run for the ocean, the water would quickly suck back out. As another wave approached, you'd have to decide whether it was prudent to stand your ground, while the rocks around you tumbled over your feet and themselves, or retreat a few feet, again waiting for the proper moment to try and jump in. It took me at least five minutes. Actually, it was probably closer to 10 (as I am a patient surfer, one who already has a board at the ding repair and really doesn't want to have two of them there at the same time).

Once out in the water, I made a run for it.

Windswell. Yea or nay?

For me, it depends. If I see that the waves are breaking with some power, rather than just popping up and disappearing, I'll take on the windswell. And that's what I did. I guess others didn't see what I saw, so they passed. Mind you, windswell waves can frustrate you to no end. It's a matter of being patient. Waves will pop up out of nowhere. They will also roll right under you.

Patience, Grasshopper.

Eventually, peaks will come your way. They certainly came my way. Over and over and over again. I didn't have to worry about anyone dropping in on me or me accidentally returning the favor. I wasn't forced to pull out of waves for fear of running over people on the inside. I could simply surf to my heart's content. 

There was nobody there!

After about an hour, I could see the writing on the wall. Fatigue was setting in. Paddling for waves, especially given the rising tide, was proving fruitless. The final straw was when I lost the board and had to swim in. That was my cue that the tank was about to hit "E". I no longer possessed the reflexes to keep it from scooting away. That meant it was time to go.

As I'd anticipated, there was even less beach than before, yet there seemed to be even more rocks. Getting back to shore unscathed was going to take some doing. Still, I was certain I could somehow find a way to get in without any excitement.

Color me incorrect.

I really thought I was clear . . . until I was on the ground. Actually, I was on the rocks before I knew what hit me. One second I was up. The next second I was lying on my back, hanging onto my board for dear life, hoping against hope that neither one of us would get dinged.

As luck would have it, the board and I emerged from that battle without a scratch.

Score!