#44: Jetty. Or rather, “Betty’s.” Clean, shoulder-high rights. Sunshine and no wind. I am in love with life.
#45: Moonstone. Overhead, superclean, mostly rights, some lefts. For some reason, I cannot sync with the waves and keep wiping out. This is horrible, especially considering I’m lined up next to one of the best surfers in Humboldt, who is a totally nice guy. He does not say, “Wow, you suck,” but the fact is, I do. All I want is one good wave in, but simply not falling down is about the best I manage. I do not deserve to be within a 100 miles of the ocean. The salt water might as well be a pool of tears.
#46: Jetty/Betty’s, or rather, Junkers. This time the problem is the waves. The outside ones break and vanish; the reforms lack enough energy for push. Nobody is catching waves, really, even the preacher. (Well, he caught some, but far less than usual.) I heard things improved on the outgoing. I counted my blessings: another sunny morning and plenty of exercise.