Sometimes you have to ask yourself, is all this worth one wave? The wool lined wetsuit, the seven-mil boots and the lobster claw gloves. The rain and the wind and cold water. Is all of that worth a wave? Because you never really know what you're going to get. Maybe it looks good when you get there. Maybe the wind isn't working. Maybe the tide is on it's way out and the intervals are pretty alright. But then you paddle out, and the wind comes from the west and the sets shorten up and you stay outside to avoid getting cleaned up. That entire time you have to keep reminding yourself that it'll be worth it. That one wave, when you get it, will make everything alright.
And so it went this weekend. Only the wind was working in our favor - it was offshore all afternoon - and the waves were alright. Head high when we first went out. Decreasing in size throughout the day. I surfed a pig, ten foot and feral. Big bottom turns to tight spots and toes toward the nose. Switched sticks with my wife and surfed her Silverspoon. She struggled with the wind but found a few. When we called it quits the tide was on its way out. We headed into town for some supper, pretty good pizza, then back to the beach before the sun set. A few beers in the back of the van. Rain on the rooftop. Can't complain.
Froggy.
Blue Spoon.
Offshore & Alright.
Shit. Face.
Silver Spaceship Light Box.
The Silent Treatment.
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