I broke one of the fundamental rules of surfing: never try to recreate the glory of a previous session. (Instead always go in to every surf session with a fresh mind.) I’d had so much fun this morning, that I though I’d pack up my bike and head up to the north side of the pier for more fun. (South side was still closed down due to the grom contest.) But the wind had wreaked havoc on the ocean surface and there was nothing to surf. I got the Daily Double, wagered it all and lost. “The number of waves you’ll catch.” “What is a dozen, Alex?” “No, the correct questions is ‘What is zero?'” “Damn it, Alex! You cocky turd. We’re taking this to Final Jeopardy!”
I packed my bike up and started riding south. South of the pier I noticed that the contest was over for the day and the waves looked reasonable. I locked up again and paddled back out. But these waves were weird. A peak would roll up and then start cannibalizing the waves in front of it. So I’d drop in, then see another wave in front of me start to merge with my wave and I’d have to have to negotiate another sort of mock drop in. This continued all the way in to the beach. It wasn’t the glory of this mornings session, but it was a million times better than the north side of the pier. So take that, Trebek!