The joke was on me: a short-interval swell gave the appearance of providing surf-able waves, but the lack of energy meant taking off under the lip as the wave tipped over. I couldn’t click into place, couldn’t switch from prone to standing with the immediate fluid grace the scenario demanded. Instead, I clambered up as if I was looking for something to hold on to. Like trying to dance to music with an erratic beat.
Failing to get into the groove, I nonetheless enjoyed the relative solitude (only one other person, but lots of sea life) and the sunshine.
The forecast suggests days of opportunity await, if I can navigate through work kids bill-paying laundry cooking shopping garden baseball softball and into the water.