A Bowl of Stupid

Initially transcribed: 09-10/04/07 - C.R.

Continued from Recognition (Guanacaste Memoirs) — Part I

I went to Costa Rica this time with two surfboards — a 7′10″ funboard, the bluish one in the pictures which has a rounded nose and is thicker to provide a more stable, yet not as maneuverable ride; as well as a 7′6″ gun, which is a pointed, more convex board to punch through wave faces, yet is still longer than a traditional shortboard to ride much bigger waves (assuming one has the talent to do so, which I do not).

Regardless, I was out having a great time. Only 3.5 hours out of Miami and I was on one of the best surf breaks in the Americas.

I did not yet realize during that initial session just what I would be up against.

However, by the following morning, the surf had grown in size and power — this was not Miami.

I should qualify this post by first saying this: I love surfing, but I hate paddling.

And what I despise the most is having to paddle through surf breaks — the thick, frothy white-water which, if the product of a 20 foot wave, can stop a Mack truck dead.

This explains one of, if not the best things about surfing a point/reef break, since paddling through such white water is generally not an issue because (1) you can paddle out to the lineup to the side of where the wave is breaking, and (2) when you're surfing, you're up in front of the white water and you can get off the wave before it breaks on you (hopefully).

In this way, by the time you're done with a wave, you're already ahead of the white water and you can paddle back out around the next oncoming waves (which are off to the side from where you just came).

So you paddle straight out, and then bear left/right towards the point where the waves are breaking to reestablish your position. No worries.

This is especially helpful when the waves get bigger. And when they are bigger, it is even more imperative to avoid wiping-out early on, since you will typically be left directly in the path of the next oncoming waves.

If it's early in a set of 4-5 massive waves, that means you will be stuck in the "impact zone" and will be sitting there, looking up at the equivalent of a 2-3 story building about to collapse on your head.

With nowhere to go.

Which really, really, REALLY sucks.

For this reason, when the waves are bigger, you try to avoid wiping out (or going the wrong direction) more than usual, since you will be left directly in the path of the next incoming set of waves, which means you will be hit in the impact zone by either huge wave faces or monster white water — where up is down and vice versa, and the only way to tell where is the surface is by how dark the water is - the darker the water, the deeper you are.

When you get put in that situation, sometimes the waves will toss you down 10, 20, 30 feet below the surface of the water - where the only thing you will see are rocks, bubbles and a lot of dark water - which again, really, really, REALLY sucks (I got scratched up on my leg by rocks that must have been about 20 feet underwater).

In that situation, lighter water is good - it means you're relatively close to the surface. But darker water is bad (and more disconcerting), especially where you're already winded from paddling and surfing for a few hours and you're getting tossed around like a bag of potatoes.

At moments like that, the best thing to do is to try not to panic, let the wave go by, and hope you float towards the surface before your lungs burst.

If that doesn't work and you find yourself running out of air, often you have to reach down/up and grab the leash tied around your ankle connected to the surfboard and climb it back up to the board (which floats substantially better than you do and will, most likely, be closer to the surface than you).

Leash-climbing without panicking is something that most experienced surfers know how to do automatically. However, it is a fine line, since it is also somewhat of a last resort, as it means you have no idea where you are, or how far it is to the surface.

It's kinda scary. But as an admitted adrenaline junkie, it's also pretty fucking cool.

I had to do some leash-climbing those first days - probably for the first time in years.

That first afternoon, as the swell was coming up, I wiped out once, got caught up in the impact zone at the beginning of a bigger set of waves, and had to leash climb twice before I broke through the surface and was able to paddle out through the surf break.

It freaked me out. But not enough to keep me from staying out another hour or so and having an absolutely fantastic day.

But it planted the seed of doubt in my head.

That seed grew overnight, so that by the next morning - when the surf had grown even bigger - I was freaking out when I got to the beach at 5:30 a.m. and saw the 15 foot bombs pushing in with the high tide.

Once again, it was not enough to keep me from going out and getting a couple of the smaller waves in the sets, like these:

But there was absolutely no way in hell that I could bring myself to get up on the monsters that were coming in during the middle of those sets, and which continued to get even bigger as they hit the reef later that afternoon.

Shit, it was all I could do to simply paddle out past those fuckers so I didn't get murdered.

A couple more times, I found myself again in the impact zone, where I got pummeled by these monsters, and was leash-climbing from the dark bubbly depths virtually every set.

My confidence was shot to hell.

Despite Manny's advise to just "shake it off," I was unable to catch more than one wave for the remainder of the afternoon — one which I rode not for fun, but as if my life depended on it.

Yea!!

As I have a tendency to beat myself up about my own flaws, I was fairly upset about my performance that afternoon. However, in retrospect, and after talking to several people, I realize it was actually a really positive day.

I was not in surf shape, having not been in big surf for several years. Moreover, despite the fame of this epic point-break and the size of this swell, there were only about 5 people who were even good/stupid enough to be out in the water that afternoon, of which I was one.

And I caught a couple of those waves. I didn't ride them very well, but I caught them.

It was again, in retrospect, a very good day.

The only problem was I was still a bit overwhelmed by that break when I went out the next morning, despite the fact the surf had dropped somewhat overnight.

(To be continued)

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