A Reader's Interesting Thoughts...

I got this email from a reader a few weeks ago.  I read it a few times, and every time I do, it has me rolling.  With the reader's permission, I decided to post it.  Hope you get a kick out of as much as I did.  Caution, more entertaining while reading after an edible...  

"After taking a slow walking tour of the Santa Cruz's Cowell's and Steamer Lane cliffs and analyzing the two breaks while high on some pot brownies, I concluded in my make believe world that Cowells and Steamer Lane were two factioning villages next to each other. Cowells is the egalitarian intergenerational utopia where everyone shares the long waves together (fathers teaching their daughters while on tandem) while the sun is shining bright and the conditions are clean and everyone is smiling and interacting positively with new found stoke for surfing while up the hill is the rugged and wild place called "Steamer" where the solo individualist boys and men hunt for big untamed waves in the absence of family and kinship (today only a few guys out and head high middle peak), each to his own, fighting the currents and weather. Yeah, I let my imagination run wild for a few hours. They both were very appealing to me in those moments."

 The reader then sent me second email a couple days later:

"I left out the part of my story where the Steamer men ravage the Cowell village - breaking softops and SUPs with their bare hands."

 Hey!  I surf The Lane!  

 

Two Waves That Made The Trip

Swayze and I kooking it up at Scripps in San Diego.

The very first real tube that I ever experienced was when I was about twelve years old while boogie boarding at Kua Bay on the Kona side of the Big Island.  I remember making the drop on a glassy, smooth shore break.  I went right and I remember being surprised that the wave wasn't closing out and smacking me on the head.  I remember things slowing down and watching the lip curl over my head.  I was riding the tube clean, not feeling any chandeliers, just noticing water spinning and things getting very slow and somewhat dark from the wave bottoming out and draining the sand from below in it's soft swirl.  It got pitched dark in the tube from all the sand and I remember thinking that I was being sucked into another galaxy by this wet worm hole.  To make sure I was still on earth and present, I yelled "Aye!", and I remember that word echoing all the way down the line in pitch black wonder.  I don't remember the tube closing out, or getting rolled, but I do remember washing up on the beach in a deep, somewhat spiritual trance.  I sat on the beach for a few minutes until an older manong swam in, telling me he was proud of me for riding that hawaiian sized beach break barrel.  It's one of those experiences that I can never forget, it's something that I have cherished all my life and have retold a million times.  But I still needed the experience of making it out.

The Sunset posted up at Uppers. 

The Sunset (the present go to board of my quiver) and I had a great three days at Trestles last week.  With a fantastic south swell going off over a five day stretch, many waves were enjoyed but only two stand out in my memory.  Just like that wave at Kua when I was twelve, these two waves will always be remembered and retold a million times over. 

Windansea in San Diego.

Wave #1:  March 26, 2013, dawn patrol.

I made my way to Lowers before the sun had peaked over the hills behind me.  I walked the dirt trail in dark with a flash light, over the train tracks, passed Middles and over to where all the bikes, backpacks and towels rested against washed up tree branches and trash cans.  Just as the sun started to set, I paddled out with the Sunset under my chest, a lone agent amongst fifteen locals.  I paddled just inside of the point and hanged out with some of the locals who were just ripping each set wave that came through to shreds.  As one of the old timers paddled back from an overhead, beauty of a wave that just peeled right into the cobble stone shores, in a soft but stoked tone I said to him "Great wave!".  The old timer was beaming with a smile and couldn't hold himself back from telling me how perfect the wave lined up.

After about an hour and a couple waves into the session I paddled out to the point after a set had just emptied the lineup.  It was just me and the old timer that I had talked to earlier.  All of a sudden, a couple of clean over head peaks came our way and it was just me and the old timer on the outside.  The old timer looked over at me and said "I'll take the first.  You take whatever's behind."  As he turned to take the first wave, I just continued to paddle out.  If you have ever surfed Lowers as a tourist, you don't get really much chances at the classic, lined up overhead wave that this point produces.  And in my mind at that moment, I wasn't taking the second or third wave of the set, I was going for the one that looked the biggest.  And the fifth wave of this set had those thoughts written all over it.

As I saw it coming, I took a deep breath, turned and paddled.  I felt it lift me and without much effort I was gliding on the top of it.  I pushed myself up, leaned forward with my weight going right and shot down the wave.  I could see the wave all the way down the line, lined up perfectly, no sections, just classic Lowers glass.  For some reason, I had patience running through my veins that morning and instead of making that robotic bottom turn, I stuck my right hand in the wave and enjoyed that moment.  I could see the wave getting steeper, so I pulled up a little high on the wave, and I instinctively crouched and brought my limbs closer to my body and all of a sudden a little crescent curl started to form above my head.  I kept my right hand in the wall of the wave and my left hand stretched out straight like Superman. I could see somebody down the line smiling and I knew then I was in it.  This time I noticed no darkness, all I saw was the light from the sun transform as it shined through the hollowness of the waves liquid, thin lip.  And things slowed down.  I could see the water slowly rise from the bottom of the wave and move upwards as it curled and splashed back down to where it started into small, snowy white particles.  As I shot out of this mini tube, I stood up straight, looked up in the air and felt the wind blow against my black hair.  I think I closed my eyes, trying to lock this moment into the file cabinet in my mind labeled "all time".

I did it, finally did it.  And it was at Lowers of all places.  Later on, the old timer talked to me about my wave and said it was the wave of the day and that it rarely gets hollow like that, especially with how high the tide was that morning.  "It was just meant to be," said the old timer.  Guess it was.

Alberto and his Shark.

I met Alberto at Cottons the next day as the swell died down.  Alberto is from Spain and surfed the Canary Island's for years.  We talked for a bit in and out of the water.  "Why don't you come down to the Bay and we'll surf Ocean Beach and Santa Cruz,"  I said.  "I heard about the locals at Santa Cruz," Alberto replied.  "It's pretty true bro," I said with a little resentment.  "When I was living in Spain," Alberto said, with that foggy, down memory lane look, "I surfed the Canary Islands.  The locals there are for real.  I tried to get into the lineup and they would just swear and cuss at me to "get the fuck out" of there."  "It took me six months before they accepted me into the line up.  Six months.  That shit was real."  I enjoyed the story Alberto told me, but he has yet to experience the locals of Santa Cruz.  I guess this tripped me out because Santa Cruz's reputation extends in this instance from SoCal all the way to Spain (in Alberto's case).  But Alberto can rip, no doubt.

Wave #2:  March 26, 2013 at sunset. 

I love to surf Cottons.  The wave has such a perfect slope to it.  While everybody runs to Lowers and Uppers during low tide, I run to Cottons.  Cottons is known for it's long, beach break lefts.  Now and then,  a great right will lineup, but usually it's all lefts, peeling, perfect rampy walls that beg to be shredded by us novices.  I usually line up with this great huge mansion on the top of the hill just north of the County Line.  If I drift north of the mansion, I just get caught up with a bunch of the goofy footers who dominate this spot.

For some odd reason I was a bit north of my landmark.  All I could think was 'How the hell did I get here?  I'm sure that I was on the other side of the mansion just a few minutes ago'.  And due to this being the third session of the day, I was a bit tired and not in the mood to peak hunt.  So I just sat there, enjoyed the sun and watched pelicans fly by into the dusk.

Then all of sudden a set came.  I pretty size able one.  The first wave that came looked like a right.  'Am I seeing this correctly?' I asked myself.  I had heard some of the guys in the lineup talking about all the rights that lined up the previous day, but with the swell was starting to fade, and I didn't want to believe that this was happening.  No matter, I just turned and paddled.  As the wave took me, it was confirmed, this was a right.  It took me a second to make it to the bottom this wave, not because it was huge, but because the slope of this wave was so perfect that I could make a mellowed, controlled drop.

I was just waiting for the wave to close out as most of the rights do at Cottons, but it didn't.  It just kept going.  As I was a quarter through this wave when I said to myself 'Well do something kook!'  So with ease, I placed my front foot correctly near the middle of The Sunset, set up my bottom turn and made a couple "Whaps!" on the lip of the wave.  After my second crappy snap I noticed I was way ahead of the curl.  So I crouched and made a real deep bottom turned, released, made it to the hollow top part of the wave and all I could tell myself was "commit you kook!"  I looked back at the curl and leaned on the heal of my front foot as my back foot put weight on my backside fin and felt my board take this smooth 180 degree turn.  All of sudden I felt this "Pop!" as my right outside fin released from the water allowing me to turn fully into the wash completing a true cutback.  I saw the wash and was amazed!  'I did it'.  As I was about to hit the foam from the curl, I instinctively threw my arms to the right along with my eyes and my board skimmed across the foam and leveled me at a decent amount of speed as I continued back across the green face of the wave.

As I was paddling back, the kook in me wanted to know if I really made a cutback.  There was a guy paddling back who gave me a nod as I was riding the wave.  So like a damn kook, I found him in the lineup and paddled over and asked "Dude, I'm going to ask you the most kookiest question ever..."  "No problem, go ahead," the guy replied trying to hold back his laughter.  "Did I just do a cutback?"  "You did a great cutback!"  Dude replied.  Hell yes!

I surfed one more day at Trestles as the swell died down.  Here is a video of Cottons on my last day at Trestles.  Even when it's small, it is such a fun wave without much of a crowd.

Cottons P.M. from Kookingitup on Vimeo.

After that Wednesday, the swell died down and there wasn't much surf.  So I headed more south to San Diego and hanged with my best bud, Swayze.  I also met up with Cynthia and we watched "A Deeper Shade Of Blue".  Great surf flick, but on IMAX, it looked more like a Deeper Shade of Green.  Swayze and I surfed Scripps once, but most of the time was spent eating burritos at Lucha Libre.  After eating the "Undefeated Seafood Burrito" at Luch Libre, I needed a bigger board.  Swayze is just learning how to surf, and I think he has it in him.  He's not scared of big waves, and he can actually paddle himself into waves without a push.  Another kook is born.

Swayze and I heading out at Scripps.

It was great surfing in SoCal, taking off the booties and riding almost perfect glassy waves.  But don't get me wrong, nothing beats our NorCal waves with it's ice cream headaches and numb toes.  With the summer south swells, there will be more memorable waves on the horizon.  And hopefully, another tube or two.

The Bay gave this to me as I drove over the Altamont. 

Spring Cleaning

Sorry bro.  There are no clean peaks today. 

Oh Spring...  westerly side crossed winds, white caps, crossed eyed peaks and short, short rides.  Then again, there's more sun and longer days.  And I must say, I've had some fun out there thanks to DST.  I've been able to make it out to OB after work more often, getting some solid sessions in.  And surprisingly, there has been some semi-clean days.  But I guess I've been spoiled with winter and those "4-7 feet" forecasts that just seemed to be never ending.

I had a great session on the Eastside of Santa Cruz the other day.  I surfed the good 'ol Hook for a bit and scored some tasty waist high waves.  It was quiet a paddle battle though, but I was able to score some.  It helped that the "Sheriff" was around on his SUP.  He would give me a heads up on some approaching sets.  I'd follow him, he'd catch the first and then I'd go for the second.

Did I get cut off on some?  Yes.  But that's to be expected.  Was it fun?  Damn straight it was. The Hook can be such a great wave.  It's fast enough to throw your hair back and it's breaks slow enough to practice cut backs and turns.  I enjoy how it gives me time to set up my drops.  Only a few places in my experience has that benefit.  And I'm almost always guaranteed face time.  And I like face time. 

Time to close the Great Highway.

But my best session all year was had at Linda Mar of all places.  During spring.  And I didn't even surf.  One of the kids in my neighborhood has been bugging me to take him surfing for the longest time.  When I get home, he always asks "Did you catch some tasty ones dude?".  The kid was so stoked to go surfing that he didn't sleep all night.  When I finally picked him up, his eyes looked like it was Christmas and he couldn't stop babbling about how he was going to be a better surfer than me.

I posed real simple questions to get his mind going as we drove like "What's the best way to avoid a wave?"  "Why don't you want to turn your back on the ocean?" and so on.  Kids and their answers.  It is so cute but totally genuine and unfiltered.  Makes me think about us adults and how we speak to each other.  Makes me wish we were a bit more transparent instead of being language ninjas.  And the questions he asked were great.  He didn't care if he sounded ignorant or not,  he just wants to become a surfer.  And never once did he ask about sharks. 

This wasn't his first time to the beach, but it was the first time in 8 years since he's touched the ocean.  In response to "how to avoid a wave pummeling you?" I taught him how to duck waves.  First thing he yelled after our first duck dive was "COLD!" as he grabbed my arm.  We ducked waves for about 10 minutes.  I watched him get braver with each duck dive until he let go of my arm and went under waves alone.

I spent an hour pushing him into waves, watching him take spills and once in a while standing up and taking one to the beach.  Kid was champ.  He wasn't afraid at all.  He would take a spill, grab the board and come back for another push. After about an hour, he pushed me away and said "I got this, I want to try and catch some on my own."  I just stood on the beach and watched him go for it for a few hours.  He would catch one to me on the beach, and I'd give him some advice and I'd watch him take the advice and get better with every wave he caught.

After we got out, as he was rinsing off, one of the guys at the showers congratulated him on his first day and some of his rides.  "Great rides!  But now comes the hard part".  "What's the hard part?" the kid asked one of the guys at the showers.  "Taking off your wetsuit!"  And boy did he have a hard time taking his wetsuit off.  As we drove home, that energetic kid that was stoked out of his mind four hours earlier was knocked out in the back seat.  "Take him anytime," his mom said later that day as The Kid snored on his couch.

I got to give it up to the Linda Mar regulars.  They were soooo nice to The Kid.  They would give him advice, give him big smiles, and throw him high fives.  We got some really good people out there in the lineup.  

Yeah, Spring can suck most of the time.  But I'm finding ways to fill the void.  From fixing some dings to adding one more kook to the Linda Mar lineup.  But damn I miss winter.  Before I go, here is a little taste of what was.  Panama Red took out his GoPro and filmed this during the earlier months of this year.  Even though winter has passed, we can still reminisce.  



La Bocanita from Panama Red on Vimeo.

The Rips of Life

Manav, Amal and I were talking about boards a few weeks ago around the campfire during our S.L.O. trip.  "For the summer, I want a fatty, 5'10 fish, 22 inches wide, squash tail... something that'll give me more float.  I'll ride that baby all summer long!" I said, dreaming of what could be.  With a slight confused tone in her voice, Stella, who is new to surfing asked "We're talking about surf boards right?"  

It's been a few weeks since the S.L.O. trip and I haven't gotten much surfing in since.  The riptide of life has slowly taken me out to it's sea.  I've made my way back, but it was difficult paddle.  Things at the "place" where I earn the dough to surf has taken it's toll.  In addition, a bad steak has left me close to 10 pounds lighter, sick in bed, shivering, sweating and weak.  I also took a weekend off to practice that balancing act I talked about a few weeks ago.  Which I think I needed.  I was burnt on both ends, professionally and surf wise.  I needed that time with my wife.

On Sunday, I headed back to our usual winter spot.  Panama Red wanted to hit up a new spot slightly North of Santa Cruz with bigger waves.  But I was more in the mode to have fun with waves that are familiar.  I'd been out of the water for at least two weeks and I was finally getting my strength back after a bout with food poisoning.  I needed something I knew how to surf.  And this spot usually serves me up a bunch of "feel good" when I need it.  In addition, I want to surf this spot until I get sick of it.  From mid spring and through summer, it gets flat.  And when a south swell shows up, it usually just dumps.  Being that winter is getting pushed out the the backdoor by spring, I have to take full advantage of this particular "street" in Santa Cruz.

The waves turned out to be really fun.  Shoulder to head high on most sets.  The great thing that usually doesn't happen in Santa Cruz is next to empty lineups.  Today we got the latter.  It was The Duck, Panama and I and three other really nice guys, two in particular that we surf with on the regular, Smiley and San Diego.  We traded waves for about two hours before half of the town showed up.  Being that there was a small south in the water, half of the sets that came through were sectioned or closed out.  But what this particular wave stresses is speed.  To make the wave, you have to jet.  So that's what we did, we jetted down the line, one after another, paddled back with fat smiles on our faces and gave each other props as we entered back into the lineup.

As I drove down to Santa Cruz that day as the sun rose, I doubted that I could even surf at all.  I was pretty weak the night before and waking up early didn't help.  But after pulling up and seeing the waves, I was motivated to give it the old college try.  And to my surprise, when I jumped into the water, everything felt a lot better.  I was able dodge incoming waves and paddle out to the lineup with ease.  I even caught a really fun right about ten minutes into the session.  I ended up surfing for about three hours and I probably could have went for another two.

For me at least, the ocean has always had that healing effect.  When I was kid, I would get bruised and scratched up a lot.  My mom would send me to the back yard to grab a branch Alo'e , apply some and go to the ocean and wash off my wounds.  The very next day, for some odd reason, all those bumps and bruises and scratches felt better.  Our oceans aren't the cleanest now days, so I wouldn't recommend it, but it still possesses the same energy, which I think has positive effects on our mind, body and soul. 

Almost exactly a year before this session, Panama Red, The Duck and I filmed one of our first mini surf videos at this spot.  We were all just getting to know each other back then.  But a year later, we are all pretty close and shared many funky adventures together.   To commemorate this sesh, we filmed it again.



Somewhere On The Westside II from Kookingitup on Vimeo.

Hopefully I'll be getting out to the beach more in the next week.  I just have to learn how to paddle around the rips of life and stop getting sucked out by them.  It is a skill that I have yet to master.  But I'm working on it.  Hopefully I'll see you all in the lineup.  Maybe at Linda Mar next to a huge stolen yacht.

S.L.O. Motion

We paddled out to this spot just south of Morro Rock in San Luis Obispo County.  Looked like a pretty local spot (I could tell because we were getting the 'one over' from a few of the guys in the lineup).  I turned to one of the surfers in the water and we started to talking.  "This spot has some good waves, but the current can get pretty gnarly".  A few minutes later, a right lines up and I take it down the line.  Pretty fun wave.  I paddled back out, sat on my board and all of a sudden, I felt this really strong current pushing me out to sea.  I looked back and saw Manav and Amal paddling back.  I tried to paddle back, but I wasn't making any progress.  By the time I knew it, I was past the jetty, way deep in Big Blue.  I called out to Manav, "MANAV!"  The thoughts that rushed through my head were:  (1)  Call the coast guard (2)  Goodbye California (3) I'm gonna miss pizza.

Even though he was outside of the rip, Manav paddled out to me anyway like the good friend he is and noticed that I was about to hit the panic button.  "Don't worry, follow me.  I got you.  Trust me," he said in a calm voice.  I followed him south and by the grace of God, we got out of that rip.  Once we got back in a bit, most of the locals that were in the lineup were on the beach walking home.  They probably knew something we didn't.  I followed suit, and bellied one in.

Lesson #204: Never paddle towards a jetty when a gnarly rip hits, paddle away from it.

After that, we surfed Morro Rock State Beach.  Epic, 1.5 over head sets flied in, all lefts.  This beach reminded me a bit of O.B., but instead of a chunky, booming wave bottoming out and destroying everything in it's path, this wave still had a ramp once it collapsed, allowing for smooth duck dives.

I think we caught it on a really good day.  The lefts were lined up for anybody that was out.  We settled on what must have been second peak (a bunch of locals were lined up at first peak about 100 yards north of the rock).  When waves came in, the lips had power, and the ramps were bit steep but not enough to where I got into those 'free falling' moments.  I caught a pretty epic, bowling left.  It made up for my freak out earlier.  That wave allowed me to leave with my head held high.  It also allowed me to leave with more confidence in going backside, which at times, can be a bit nervy for me when the waves get beyond overhead.

Morro Rock State Beach

The showers were pretty awesome too.  Who'd ever expect hot beach showers?  An old timer who just got out brought shampoo and offered us some.  Why not?  Washing off at the beach with shampoo and soap reminded me of my childhood days back in Hawaii.  That's just how we got down back in the day on the Islands.  The old timer also told us about a couple of breaks in town that we could check out the next day, one being Shell Beach.

Shell Beach

Shell Beach sits on the bottom of a cliff.  The cliff is home to an open space full of green grass, benches and a playground.  There is chunky right hander on the southside of the cliff and a left hander on the northside.  Once in the water, this spot reminded me of Santa Cruz, with the kelp and green water. Like Santa Cruz, even when the wind picked up, the kelp beds kept the waves pretty clean.  It wasn't big at all compared to how Morro was the day before.  At most, a 4 footer would pop up here and there.  I think we did pretty well, considering that lineup was filled with longboarders.

The locals were really nice here.  One of the locals and I worked together to get our share of waves.  A crew of three, college aged longboarders were doing their best to hog most of the good sets.  This local and I used the 'blocking" technique to help each other out.  I would sit in front of one of the longboarders, block him off and give the wave to the local.  He would do the same for me.  We applied this strategy all day.  And we caught some good ones.  I know it's an inappropriate way of grabbing waves, but when waves are getting hogged knowingly, strategies have to be applied.

I had the GoPro handy most of the weekend, and I was able to chop up this quick edit of two of our sessions.  I wish I worn it for our Morro session, but decided not to because of the size of the waves that day, not knowing that it was pretty manageable.


S.L.O. Motion from Kookingitup on Vimeo.

A lot of the locals said that we caught S.L.O. on a really good weekend.  The waves were happening, the wind stayed down and the weather was warm.  There is something about just getting away from it all on long weekends with good friends.  From waking up in a tent, warming up some good brew to chatting for hours around a campfire.  But no matter how long the weekend is, it's always too short. 

Big Waves

"Big waves".  Everybody has their definition of what a "big wave" is.  You have guys that chase Mavericks, and their definition of a "big wave" is one that towers the tallest human being five to six times over, knocks the wind out of a person just by sight and can leave even the greatest surfers contemplating their life choices.  There are the Ocean Beast guys.  They trade their tool belts, nails and hammers for 10 foot rhino chasers and hooded 4/3 wetsuits.  They paddle out to double to triple overhead surf, not knowing where the next wave is coming or where the current will take them, but willing to take a couple beasts on the head for that giant peak that will allow them a few moments in the room of green.

Then you have guys like me.  Guys who watch Mavericks from their living room, rather stay on the dunes when Ocean Beast is bombing and yell "DAMN!" every time a brave soul risks it all and gets clamped by that big green monster.  Guys like me are willing to risk our chips (and pride) when it's 1.5 to 1.75 overhead (double overhead, honestly, is too big and scary for me).  We feel more comfortable at breaks that are a bit more predictable that allow a haste exit when that big monster set flies in faster then you can say "let's play that game of 'life flashes before your eyes' again!".  I guess guys like me cherish organization and a bit of consistency.  Creatures of habit.  And the sense of escape-ability (which in most cases, is not true).  Yes, that would be me.

On Superbowl Sunday, I and a couple of the Kiwis found ourselves in the midst of waves that were reaching beyond the capacity of my definition of 'big'.  It was almost so 'big' at times that I wanted to sit on the cliff and play spectator instead of participator.  Yeah, like I've written before, I have been putting myself into bigger days, but honestly all that has done was add more unresolved trauma then comfort when things get big.

And the spot we usually surf wasn't being it's usual self either.  Due to the swell and the current, everything about this spot changed.  From where the take off points usually are, to those who usually surf it.  The waves were coming bigger, faster and at a more direct westerly angle then usual.  If I wasn't already overly anxious, these things didn't help. But as soon as one of the fellas said "Let's suit up and get out there while it's still empty,"  I was instant game.  

When we paddled out, like I said, everything was different.  Being that it was a very long period swell, there were some major lulls.  But when the sets came, they came big and in numbers.  There were even some waves going unridden.  Either people were caught inside or the waves were just to big.  Some of the waves were so big that they sucked the air out of the air.  Even the charger of the Kiwis, Panama Red, was a bit shaken.  Never seen him back off before.  But then again, shit was sort of mutant at times.  Don't blame him, or me for that matter.

Then my wave came.  A set had just past, and an odd mid period set was flying in.  I gave my self a second to get my senses and took a couple deep breaths.  Other guys were paddling back to the lineup from the last set and I was pretty much alone to take it.  I wanted to hesitate, but one of the guys paddling back yelled at me "Go Go Go!"  I turned, paddled and all of a sudden I was making this hair raising, vertical drop.  I don't even remember popping up to be honest.  I could of been boogie boarding it down for all I remember.

Once I completed the drop, the first thought in my mind was "What do I do now?"  All I could see when I looked up was this very large wall of greenish/blue water.  And it was all glass.  And I was on it.  "What... The... F*^k...".  I made my bottom turn and shot three quarters up the wall and shot down for another hair raising drop.  "Wow, that was cool!".  So I did it again.  "I can do this!"  On the next bottom turn, I decided stayed on top of the face for a few pumps before I took a less vertical angle down.  "Weeeeee!"  "I got this!" 

A section in front of me wanted to clamp but my angle down the face kept my board at such a good pace that I was able to surf around the white wash and sustain some momentum so I could complete somewhat of an ugly back door bottom turn to make it back up the face again.  And there I was, on top of the wave once more. I could see the final section, already wanting to clamp.  And so far, I hadn't seen anybody make it.  "I can do this!"  I was getting cocky.  I had this mutant under control.

I held my ground and kept my patience.  After I came down from the top of that wave I waited for the very last second to release my bottom turn.  As I released my bottom turn I used all my core energy to propel my board up towards that closing lip.  I needed to get to the top of it before it broke so I could slap that lip in the face and steam down it's shoulder.  But as I pushed my board up the face, the lip sectioned and that heavy mutant wave threw all it's energy into the middle of my chest.  It hit me so hard that it knocked all the wind out of me.  And I hit the bottom of the wave backwards.  And I didn't follow the cardinal rule:  "Never take the first wave of the set".

After receiving a severe beating, I barely rolled myself onto the beach and walked back up the cliff.  I felt as if I was hyperventilating.  I was breathing frantically.  I made it over to my wife who was on the cliff looking for me.  "How was it?"  she asked.  Breathing hard, slober all over my chin, pride left somewhere between a reef and a hard place, I replied "F*^king Awesome!"

Video: Breath

Breath from Kookingitup on Vimeo.

The 2013 Super Bowl Swell along the coast of West Side Santa Cruz.  My wife actually did all the camera work while we surfed.  Like I said, my darling has skills!