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Friday, January 29, 2010


Well, I finally snapped on Sunday. After watching a few days of big, somewhat out of control waves, I had to surf. I loaded up the car with an old, beat-up 6'6" round-pin that I found in my parent's garage and headed down to La Jolla. I arrived to find plenty of waves breaking, but only a handful being ridden by the small number of surfers in the water.

I watched for a few minutes before pulling on my wetsuit and waxing up my newly repaired, old board. The paddle out was not particularly enjoyable but I reached the lineup without too much hassle (I passed one guy who was caught inside and not happy about it). I finally caught my first wave after fifteen minutes of waiting around in the lineup; I made a long drop, pulled into a little barrel, and came out as it close out. I caught a handful of waves over the next hour and a half before I found myself on the inside, watching one of the bigger sets of the day stack on the horizon. As I scrambled for the outside, I watched another surfer drop in and bottom turn before the wave broke squarely on my head.

I felt the board snap in my hands as I dove underwater, and felt it repeatedly hit my legs as I rag-dolled in the whitewater. I finally surfaced just in time to get a breath before the next wave broke on me. After dodging a few waves, the set subsided and I made my way to shore amidst quiet stares from onlookers. While I'd usually be disappointed, I was glad I decided not to take out one of my nicer boards.

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