[Marcus]

I'm stuck about 200 miles from the nearest body of water large enough to hold waves, and 800 miles from an ocean. This summer I'll be in ****** catching empty reeling Typhoon surf in clear blue bathwater. Until then, please entertain me with stories of your favorite sessions. I'll go first.

I woke up to the beeping of my almost-unreadable barnacle-encrusted wristwatch. I rolled out of my salt-gritty bunk and hit the old putting-green style carpet of the cabin. Hunting under the frosty stream of air from the wheezy but reliable A/C for my glasses, I snatched up my half-dry booties and fins and headed topside. Careful to duck my head as I climbed out of the cabins and into the saloon, I was hit by a wave of damp heat when the door swung open. My glasses fogged, I padded back to the stern, unbuttoned my fly, and returned some of the global water supply back into circulation while the mist cleared from my lenses. Squinting into the pre-dawn light, I could just barely make out the ruler-edge lines of Maccaronis endlessly peeling around the point. With the ocean oily-slick glass in the dead tropical air, it was impossible to tell the size, but it looked bigger.

It felt like my brain had thickened from the last 7 days of constant blazing sun and endless rolling lines of Burgers, Lance's, HT's, and every other break in the northern Ments. Everything that could chafe was rubbed raw. Every muscle in my body was sore. The holes where I had donated chunks of skin to the razor-sharp reefs didn't hurt, but they would sting like wildfire the second I hit the water. Then they'd go numb, turn white, and start their daily rot into weepy white-rimmed craters.

Yesterday had been an unexciting shoulder-high day, but Maccas was just such a ridiculously perfect wave, and I was so happy to finally get to go left that it was hard to complain, even after it had taken a bite out of my left calf. Still... out there it looked a little bigger, and my salt-coated synapses sparked with a little excitement. I buttoned up and scurried back down into the chilly cabins.

"How it is?" The Spanish standup in the other bunk woke up as I returned.
"Bigger." I said, tapping my contacts into my achy red eyes. He rolled over and I didn't give another thought to him. The guy was huge and ripped, but he couldn't surf for beans, so I wasn't surprised when he went back to sleep.

Fully awake now, my excitement rising, I hurried back topside and climbed to the upper deck. Unstrapping my MS-5 from where it was bungeed to the rail, I pulled on my damp boardies, strapped my kicks to the Science's leash, and chucked the gear overboard. A moment later I jumped in after it. I swam over to my board and pulled on my fins. It was a five-minute paddle from the boat into position at the top of the peak. As I struck out, I could see that two of the goddamn Japanese were already on it. I was mentally kicking myself for not getting up earlier. After all, I was here to surf, not to sleep!

When I achieved the peak, it was empty. It was also bigger. A hair OH and clean as f--k. As a set stacked up, I could feel the big stupid grin of the last 7 days stretching my salt-and-sun-cracked features. I leisurely paddled out just a little, turned and barely even had to kick to drop into the second wave of the set--a nice OH grinder. I took a leisurely line deep into the flats and hooked back into the pocket. In perfectly lazy trim, I just sat there effortlessly gliding along as the lip pitched first overhead, then out in front of me. Just a little twitch and I shot out of the tube section, mouth open, tongue out, just loving life. I tossed a friendly cutback spray at the first surfer as I passed him paddling back up to the peak. Suddenly those two guys were my friends and everything was right in the world. All the SoCal aggression I had learned over the last 6 years just melted away. I hooked back into the pocket but it was soft, so I cut high, and popped off the lip. And still the wave went on... I hooked in, picked a section, and lofted a lazy rollo, then a backspin, then just a few cutbacks. Finally the wave started to warble and it was time to kick out and make the long paddle back, hooting for the standups as took their shot at shredding the wave.

And that's how it went that day. Wave after perfect wave. The crowd increased to 6, which might have 2 people on the peak at once occasionally, then the Japanese boat pulled up anchor and we were left alone on the break, never more than 3 people at once, and 2 of them always paddling. Empty peak. The boat's launch picked me up at 9 when the sun intensified enough to require some SPF 45+. I crammed down some fruit, toast, and juice and was back out in an hour. The driver carried me back to the peak, I thanked him and jumped out of the launch into the warm glassy water, 10 feet from the takeoff zone, ready to get back to it.

The surf held steady right around OH, the wind picked up offshore, holding the barrel open a little longer, and the universe maintained equilibrium. 6 hours into the session I came in for more liquid and a little fuel. Clouds were gathering and the wind was picking up and turning side/offshore so I ditched my rashguard and hurried back out. Riding the rippled blue-green waves was still nothing but bliss. It was afternoon and the rest of the guys had given up, I was bodyboarding OH Maccas alone. Exhaustion made my maneuvers simpler and sparser. I was just enjoying the feel of bathwater-warm sea on my belly and legs, wind-cooled spray on my back and face, all while cruising those mechanically-precises waves tossed up by the Indian ocean and Maccas reef. After 8 hours of bliss, a boat appeared on the horizon, but a rainstorm beat them in. The launch picked me up and we made it back to the boat, which had moved deeper into the cove, just before the rain hit.

Sitting on the top deck totally exhausted and satisfied, feet propped up on the gear box, sipping papaya juice while watching the tropical rainstorm beating down on Maccas; maybe not the greatest bodyboarding moment I've enjoyed, but up there near the top.

Damn, I miss it!

[neosponge]

Good story.

If you have lots of time, check out my website, http://www.hisurfadvisory.com. Although not updated for a couple years it still has tons of stuff to check out.

[Volny]

neosponge, on 09 March 2010 - 04:49 AM, said:

Good story.

If you have lots of time, check out my website, http://www.hisurfadvisory.com. Although not updated for a couple years it still has tons of stuff to check out.

This story brought me a little piece of paradise, as I just woke up and am sitting in the office...

Very nice!

Now I need to find enough dough in the next years to remember what warm water and perfect waves are