GP2K1 Revisited - Part 6 - "Reward"
by Foontonio
"Every time history repeats itself, the price goes up." - olde sayingAfter dropping the keys and linens off at the Rental Realtor, I aimed the Mean
Green Foon machine North on a glorious fall day. With some favorite Jazz on the
box, a full tank, a clean windshield and a shoe shine, I scorched the local and
state highways for a 5 hour rocket ride to the Delmarva.As the hurricane shutter rolled up at the Bunker, my beach appeared drenched in
glorious late afternoon sun revealing clean and evenly spaced wavelets. Nothing
over a foot. But it was sure purty. I quickly unpacked and got ready for D2 to
arrive, but she didn't show up for another two hours. I had decided to host her
on her return trip to New England as a gesture of friendship and to make sure
her trip back was comfortable, at least for a night. In the mean time I checked
the local buoy and tide conditions and looked at the swell models. It appeared a
significant swell was coming to my hood for the weekend and maybe as soon as
Friday, the next day.Late in the afternoon D2 did arrive. I gave her the tour of the Bunker and got
her stuff unloaded. To insure we got a good place to view what would be a
fabulous sunset I took D2 to my favorite local watering hole for dinner, where
we got a perfect table out on their dinner porch. Sure enough as the big red one
dipped toward Big Assawoman Bay (hey, stop that you pervs!!) the restaurant
played on their sound system as is their custom, Louis Armstrong's, "It's
wonderful World." The sunset was magnificent. Dinner wasn't bad either.D2 and I spent another friendly evening on the Foonbunker Balcony where she
revealed her connection to star gazing (her Dad). The sky was so brilliantly
clear we spent time talking of the stars and skies we'd seen in our lives. D2 is
one special person in many ways she has revealed on the ng. Spend some time
with her and get an entire new appreciation for this one of a kind lady.D2 had to leave the next day early so I treated her to one of my Foonbreakfasts
on the balcony. The food's ok, but the view is pretty damned good. Before she
left I insisted on getting some pics down on the beach where I showed D2 exactly
what the nearshore sand bar set up could do. This was enhanced by the fact the
tide was super low leaving the entire sandbar exposed complete with near shore
trenches etc. I explained how incoming and outgoing tides set up nearshore
currents that race along parallel to the beach then rush out in strong rip
currents when they find a low spot in the sand bar. This was easy since
everything was high and dry. We got some tourists to take our picture, blue
ocean and dinky waves in the background.The waves at this point were knee to waist high and very clean. D2 and I said
our goodbyes and immediately I had some chores to complete and errands to run. I
checked in again at mid afternoon and noticed a real bump to the swell size and
reported it to my MD-AS listserv group. Within another two hours I was suiting
up to jump in some 3-5 footers that had plenty of space between 'em. The swell
we'd been promised had arrived.No one was out as far as the eye could see. Just me and my ocean and a few
fishermen who graciously cast their lines away from my break of choice. My warm
up waves were tentative, mainly because of my rustiness and the excesses of the
GP. The other thing was that the incoming tide was pushing more water on the
wave faces and these little gems were packin a pretty good clout which I learned
each time I got caught paddling out.The evening glass off was in full swing and the sun in my face as I looked
toward shore was both glorious and blinding. Looking out to sea it lit up the
swells far outside so that I could plan and position myself to best advantage.
Picking a good wave was no problem. Finding the best was a problem of excess.
Four of my early waves were quick little demons with fun down the line carving
and banking grooves and neat, precise pullouts. Whatta pisser. But the water was
already toasty warm. The incoming tide was causing the sandbars to line up the
long storm swells (unlike our windswell) almost perfectly with very few close
outs. A low point in the sandbar I'd seen that morning developed a zippy little
rip to paddle out in. I was fascinated to think I was now riding on the very
same sandbars I walked on that morning.The sun sank lower in the Western sky giving the water and beach a golden glow.
I guessed I'd been out about 90 minutes and was getting a bit tired. Off to the
south I heard a deeper than normal rumble and I swiveled my head to see just the
end of a collapsing wall, foam and spray shooting skyward. Right behind it was
a swell at least twice the size I'd been riding which shimmered in the low
angled sunlight. "Rogue wave," I thought, I'm lucky since if it broke in my
spot I'd be caught inside. Still, the surf had been building all afternoon. I'd
better keep and eye out for……..WHAAAAAAAAA!!!???Outside of me the sun lit up a long and wide Foonbreaker with just the top half
foot feathering, but not threatening to break just yet. I flew into action (as
well as I can these days) flailing like a windup toy to get outside and cursing
myself for not stealing a pair of paddle gloves from Rod. Somehow I managed to
avoid the pitching lip punching through the top 2 feet and looking over my
shoulder. That sucker was a solid 8 foot face, or I'm from the PNW!!I had no time to ponder this development as my wave, the one with the big sign
on it that declared, "This is the one Foonboy, catch me if you can," was lining
up a bit to my right. I carefully moved myself toward the peak making decisions
about when and where to turn and paddle so I would not get caught too inside.
The glassy surface of the water was smooth but slightly lumpy. As the wave
reared up I was in good position to stroke easily into a nice long left.The drop was quick and smooth, the power of this wave signaled it was going to
be a fast ride. But as I looked off down the line to determine what kind of wave
I'd caught, the glare of the sun nearly blinded me. I could hardly see 15 feet.
All I knew I was I smoothly gliding in that suspended, sort of slomo groove that
we all love trying like hell to see where I was going and wondering when the axe
would drop.The lip came over concaving the face of the wave even more and narrowing the
focus of the glare from the sun into a single wide stripe of light. The line I
took was straight down the center of that light. It was like the sun was
providing me a landing strip to the shoulder.Off in the distance I could see the shoulder build as we thundered even further
into the shallows. The whole thing took seconds but I had the feeling of hours
of enjoyment. I easily slipped over the top of the wave before it came pouring
over and immediately began scratching outside. Though no one was within earshot
I blurted a totally spontaneous hoot of stoke. Damn that was a good un!!The exhilaration and thrill of that ride was a shot of adrenaline. I was pumped.
Gimme more of that. The lulls between sets lasted about 5-10 minutes giving me
a chance to catch my breath and determine that due to dwindling light, I should
be considering my last waves. Outside another set was forming and it looked
bigger by far than my previous waves. I better be careful.The wave I chose looked innocent enough, somewhat larger than the one I had but
more tapered and shorter in length. It was preceded by a couple of dinky swells
that slowed but remained unbroken as they entered the impact zone. The one I
wanted was well overhead (standup) but I thought makeable. Again paddling
carefully I caught and rode the wave, blissfully ignorant of the curling,
cascading, compacting and crushing chaos (ALLITERATION!!) that played out behind
me. But the thrill of my previous victory would quickly change to the agony of
defeat. Bigtime.My wave was building down the line and was making me decide whether to
straighten out or pull out. I did not want to straighten since the wave had all
the appearances of a top to bottom pitsucking, tubespitting, ass hammer. It
looked safer to head for the top. I tried to flex myself in the wave face to
gain more speed, but unfortunately for me, Foonie don't flex that way any more.
In addition, as I headed up the face my wave finally caught up with one of those
dinky previous waves and began to double up. I found myself in the unfortunate
position of gliding into that thick part of the double up that becomes a big
thick dumping lip. Not good.In a panic I attempted to punch out the back which served only to further embed
me in this lip. My stomach sank as I felt my fins and legs break free of the
face dangling in the tube space as as the lip threw out and over, in effect
pinwheelin me into a Wango Dango Foon-Thrashing Tango. Me and the bulk of the
lip slam dunked into about 4 feet of water. Instantly I lost a fin and fin sock.
I was unceremoniously and painfully planted on my side into the bottom on my
hip (the bad one). I've learned as I grow older and experience a deep planting
with possible damage not to move too suddenly until I take an inventory of aches
and pains. This slight hesitation brought me to the surface just a second or
two before the following wave slammed down just two feet away from me, giving
me just enough time to say "OH," as in "Oh shit, Oh God, Oh NOOOO!!"
The explosion of water upward caught me cleanly in the back lifting me high in
the air as if on a cloud of mist, but rag dolling me in a way that I lost
another fin. I've got to get a pair of tethers. I came up spitting and gasping
again only to witness still another closeout come crashing down just outside of
me which helped me limp and push myself toward shore, board in tow.As I left the water looking for my fins (which I found easily because they
float) before they were swept out in a rip current, I considered my ass whuppin
as a clear sign that Huey was done with me and wanted me to leave his ocean. I
take these signs very seriously and limped up the beach to sit and recover. At
this point 6-10 foot waves were pouring through every 20 minutes, but most were
closed out on our little sandbars.In the dim light of dusk the water vapor thrown up by the spray of these waves
formed an ethereal mist about 10 feet thick that moved in from the break and on
up the beach. The air was completely calm. In the twilight all the lights from
the buildings up and down the beach seemed to twinkle and smile. I was feeling
a bit better and the approaching darkness made me think of……..food!!! I was
Hungry!!As I trudged back up to the Bunker I thought how ironic it was that I had
benefitted two years in a row by being the last one to leave the GP. I'm not
sure this years episode was as rewarding as the session I had with Rod and Flek
last year, but it fully stoked my battery for awhile.Here is a shot of the same break the very next morning at sunrise.
http://alt-surfing.org/altsurfing/as_points/gp01_pics/FoonSeries2/original/OCOct12.jpg
Though dark, this wave is about 6 foot and more beautiful than it appears and
only half the size of what poured through the rest of the day. The rest of OC
was closed out that morning. I checked several streets and in the inlet. Only a
few shortboarders and bbers were riding and it was basically closeout roulette.I went home happy with my trip, delighted with my new friends and baseball hat,
and nursing a sore hip and foot. Pretty good week for me. After a few close
calls, I was still alive. Lucky me."If you resolve to give up smoking, drinking, and loving, you don't actually
live longer; it just seems longer." -Clement Freud-Foon
Posted to the alt.surfing newgroup
From: Foon (foon@newsguy.com)
Subject: GP2K1 Revisited:Pt6,Reward (long)
Date: 2001-11-07 13:37:09 PSTSearch the thread at here.
