Making It Out

As I paddled out at Ocean Beach on Saturday, I noticed this grom screaming down a barreling left.  The grom had to be around eight.  And compared to this little shorty on a short, short board, the wave had to be at least 2 1/2 times overhead.  The grom had no hesitation, no plan of attack, he just went for it all.  He was going critical.  I paddled over to his father and told him how amazed I was at his son's skill.  "Your boy is a charger!" I said.  His father replied "You have to be if you live around here".

The waves were pretty user friendly that day.  The paddle out was bit below mild, if that.  The waves were in the four to six feet range.  But like Ocean Beach does, when the tide got lower, the more hollower she became.  It looked like there was a mix of two swells in the water.  And being that it is almost winter, the water was warm.  Like spring time warm.  And the when there was wind, it was blowing lightly and out to the ocean.

I don't know if it's ever possible to get comfortable at Ocean Beach.  I have those recurrent PTSD symptoms from back in the day when I got the life beat out of me at Kelly's last summer when a swell picked up with a snap of a finger and huge mounds of water came speeding in, aiming for the top of my head.  But now days, I can take a beating with the best of them (knock on wood), but I do have my limits.  And the limits that I do have, aren't saying much.   

But like I said, Saturday was pretty user friendly.  It was one of those days when you can pull a double session at Ocean Beach.  At around mid to low, things really started to get clean and hollow.  I saw guys pulling into mini, crouching barrels to tubes where they were standing straight up.  One thing  I notice was when the fellas were making their drop, their inside arm was instantly in the wall, stalling them as much as possible so that the tube can catch up.

I decided that I was going to employ this new, discovered technique.  For the first hour, I wasn't catching anything that could produce a tube, but I stuck my arm into the wall anyway as I made the drops.  I played around with this technique, sticking more of my arm in and taking it out, seeing my speed change slightly every time I made an adjustment.

After a while, I decided that I was going to sit inside more and try and catch a fast one as it ran into the shallow sandbars below.  Within fifteen minutes I spotted a nice fat peak with a nice, maturing, right wall coming towards me.  I turned, waited for it for a moment and gave it three quick strokes.  I popped up and noticed that the drop was really steep.  I didn't expect that.  As I made the drop, I stuck my right arm, all the way to my forearm, in the wall.  My board slowed a bit and I noticed that as I slowed, the wall got steeper and closer to my body.  Then I noticed that a ceiling of greenish water began forming just above my head.  I knew then that I was standing in barrel land.

As it curled, I noticed that my speed wanted to increase.  I decided that I was going to try and stay as deep as I could in this tube.  So I stuck my arm farther in and my board reluctantly slowed.  And there I was, feeling the tug of the crashing water on my leash, looking down the line at a small opening, just for me.

Right when I felt the crashing water tug on my leash, I figured it was time to make my way out.  I pulled my arm out, crouched forward just a bit, releasing pressure from my tail.  I felt my speed pick up.  I felt the rush.  I felt the endorphins.  I felt the testosterone.  I felt the slight breeze of the spinning water.  Then I felt about one hundred gallons of water hit  my face.

I wish I could say I made it.  I did everything I could.  I did everything I practiced in my head.  But today my friends, wasn't the day.   Will tomorrow be the day when I can finally say that I "made it out. Clean."?  I don't know.  But I'm still pretty stoked.  If anything, next time, maybe I'll just stick my arm in only to my wrist.