West and clean: Part Deux

Sometimes you get through the seam unmolested.

Other times you get mowed over like a blade of grass.

 Late Friday, a single paddler came across the dune

into no man's land.

Bomb set.

Detonation, mowed.

Spit up and out.

Tilt, reset, start again.

West and clean

Every dog has it's day.......

Some dogs have so many fleas, you stop checking 'em.

Cable Guy's.

We rolled up to a head high set peeling off. Saw a couple people out that couldn't seem to find the peak
Ding finished his beer and called it, "Let's get it now before she floods...". I swallowed the last of the mook's crap coffee and agreed.

Shift change as we climbed across the rocks and logs,  leaving one other out and a ways down the beach. Zippery rights, held up by the wind, making late takeoffs the only way in. Lefts that put you into the impact zone south...... best ignored unless the 15 minute paddle is your thing.

Super fun peelers, much better than the other day, no threading the rip out to unpredictable peaks. Today it's all about paddling the peak off, into the angle where the lift throws you down the line as the wall holds herself up. Pull a hard turn and move to the nose while your hand feels the lip dropping over your shoulder.

The rain begins to hammer down with the gusty wind and the tide is pushing, but the wave, as close to shore as it is just keeps running and running along the edge where it was closing out, the wind holds back the wall and lets the lip peel off maybe 75 yards......

We surf til we're sated, no sitting, just rotation and laughs about waves ridden. We call each other into sets or give them up as the peak shifts away from where we are. The beach is empty as the weather worsens, a seiner pulls in for shelter and the grey light darkens although sunset is still a ways off.  The boat's light brightens as the clouds thicken wetly. They have a cold and bumpy night ahead of them. 

A quick as possible change into clothes and we're off down the road, dodging potholes on the way home. The wipers squeek across the windshield as we rehash the session.

Winter's juice drip

Finding and staying on the corners in the north west, is a hit and miss affair.

Very little in common with the surf experience to the south.

 Could be any of  the pockets hidden.

Grind-y 14second lines to the horizon, warbled and toothy.

Coast guard tow-ins over scarcely dredged bars.

Logridden rockpiles and huge stumps pushed into parking spaces.

The winter ocean gives and gives.