Saturday: Brian, Chris and I were in the water in front of the house by 3 that afternoon.  Foon and Rod had stopped at Boilers on the way down, leaving those of us who showed up on time waiting for them to arrive with a key.  We surfed instead of waiting around for them. Waves were consistently in the head high to two feet over range. Taking off demanded you be as close to the shifty peaks as possible. Much paddling occured to make it to the outside through about 100 yards of incessant whitewater.  Long drops and fast rides made the
choice of a 6'8" ideal for me.  By 6pm, we were looking forward to a primo dinner of nachos.

Sunday morning: Lighthouse was looking good with head high lefts between the first and second groins, but we opted to check out ramp 49 (empty and slightly smaller), then on to the Frisco pier.  Waves were up to 4' over head on the set waves on the south side of the pier. There was a small amount of current running south, but nothing that had to be fought constantly to stay lined up.  Brian snapped his board on his first wave of the day.  Brunch around 11:30 was Neal's
made-to-order Western omelettes, then it was back to the surf in front of the cottage for the afternoon group session.  Waves seemed to be up to double-overhead (12'+) on the sets and everyone was having fun.  Da Griz scored a freight train that earned him an award at the ceremony that night.  My memorable moments included both a 6 foot freefall drop
as a wave jacked up beneath me, and an 8' backflop dismount as I kicked out of a closeout right.  The current here was northerly and we ended up drifting a few hundred yards up the beach by the time we headed in.

Monday morning was looking bigger.  Neal, Griz, and I headed out in front of the house full of optimism. After 25 minutes of steady paddling against the whitewater, I chose discretion and caught a couple of inside waves into shore. The others followed shortly thereafter confirming that we should search elsewhere. The entire crew headed for ramp 49, arriving as the only people on the beach at that time.  It looked manageable and we were all in the water in minutes. Another marathon 20 minute paddling session later, and only Brian had gotten lucky enough to get outside.  I rested on the beach for a while, tried again and was denied a third time as I was feeling the ache in my shoulders and back building.  After a couple of hours of
observation of those who had managed to make it out, there were only a handful of waves that managed to be ridden without being closeouts or simply dying mid-ride.  Breakfast of blueberry pancakes ensued, and then a couple of cars headed north to check out Oregon Inlet.  Nothing much to write home about there so I headed north while the rest headed south back to the cottage.  If only I'd had Neal's cell-phone number, I could have told him to turn around and check out Nags Head, because the conditions looked very similar to Frisco's Sunday morning session, albeit a bit more crowded.  

I'm sure the others will fill in the details as they filter back to
their everyday lives.

That is all,
Myron