Thought I’d surf Power Poles, but the tide was too low and the fog too thick to see what was happening. Drove down to Bunkers and scored a ride out. Unfortunately I failed to consider the walk back and transferred my big plastic wetsuit-holding tub into G’s truck. (This will be bad, later.) My daughter expected me back by 7:30 a.m. for a ride to HealthSPORT, so this surf would happen quickly.
Jetty? Too small. Micro. Nothing out there but a world of bait. Back to Bunkers then. I confess, I’ve never been fond of Bunkers, even before the shark attack I witnessed. The paddle out typically takes three times as long as the Jetty, the waves can be deceptively hard to catch, bad things happen there. Drowning. Shattered bones. And more than one shark attack.
But today, the waves were small enough, the tide super low, that the paddle out was easy. My hair stayed dry. Sure enough, catching the waves proved challenging at first. Although chest-to-head high, they didn’t have enough push, would steepen then mush out. Then I paddled over a bit and dialed in to a peak. Woohoo! OK, so I fell off a left – that happens; going backside remains a challenge at times – but then I caught a zippy little (head-high at the peak, shoulder-high by the bottom turn) right. The kind of quick-but-easy takeoff fast and fun wave that I love. I could’ve surfed for hours. I didn’t have anywhere to be until 9:45 a.m. in Ferndale… except I promised my kid that ride. Damn!
So I trudged out of the water, over to the truck, and lugged board and my stupid tub (very hard to carry one-armed for any great distance) through the soft sand all the way back to the Bunkers parking lot, cursing the timing of the situation the whole way). I wish I could say I was graceful about it when I returned, but no, not so much.