With the shine and glory of the US Open still washing over me, I headed out to the northside of the pier in Huntington today to try and push myself to the next level. Granted, the waves were half as high and the rip tide had ebbed off to nothing, but still…NEXT LEVEL, I SAY.
The waves were fantastic today too. Good waist to head high faces with long rides to the beach, if you wanted to ride it out to the end. There were even still a few tubes out there for the lucky wave catcher. And the water was warmer than the air when I dipped in this morning.
I was chucking myself into every wave that came my wave. Once up I would try to through monstrous bottom turns, then I’d try to shoot up and crash the lip. I’m sure I looked like a tool most of time, but a few of those waves felt pretty good. I just need to learn to use my height to my advantage rather than letting it get in the way.
One lovely wave came up to me and the dude on my right. We both started paddling for it. We were both right in the center of the wave. I assumed I was going right and he would back off. He assumed he was going left and I would back off. (He was a goofy footer, so essentially we both wanted to go front-side.) Imagine out collective shock when we both popped up and turn toward each other. Hilarity ensued.
We evaded each other without too much trouble. Clearly neither of us were in the wrong, we should have just communicated better about our intentions rather than just assuming. All the same, I paddled over to him to make nice. When I got within ear-shot he said, “I’m sorry, dude.” I laughed. I said, “I was coming to apologize to you.” All was well and we surfed off into the sunset.
Seriously though, with a few pals out there, today probably would have been epic. They were the waves I was hoping for on Friday and couldn’t find.