Like...dude, where's my wave

We’ve had a couple of foreshadowings of winter weather…one tempete about three weeks ago and one wind storm last week, both of which left trees blown down and boats capsized in the basin.

The conditions were ideal yesterday so we took Beth’s parents to Plage Crohot for some sun, sand, and surf. We’re experiencing a golden October and we’re trying hard to appreciate it since we’ve gotten several strong hints that there’s nothing golden at all about December, January, and February. The waves were good-sized and fairly close to shore. The beach here is pretty flat. You can go out there for a ways before you’re in over your head. Aside from the riptides the biggest caution for swimmers is surfboards. In the offseason, there are no designated areas for either class of activity so it’s every homo sapiens for itself.

Usually that’s not a problem but this is the weekend and the school vacation and beautiful weather…all of which means that the bordelais are here in force. You see a few close calls from the beach with surfers and bathers heading out and surfers slicing and dicing coming in.

The Atlantic here is perhaps cool by Caribbean standards but it’s tepid by comparison to Oregon coastal waters. I made for the waves immediately. Once out there past the first series of breakers I took a shot at trying to catch and body surf a bigger wave without having the slightest idea of what I was doing.

I played around for a little while not quite getting it down but having a good time being borne up and down by the water and, occasionally, getting swamped and buffeted by waves that broke over my head. Finally quite by accident I caught a wave at the right moment, I turned and swam toward the beach. I felt my heels elevate, I thrust both hands forward like Superman…after that all I can accurately recall is the sensation of plunging. That sensation produced an attendant expectation of crashing into something but since my eyes were closed, I’m not sure I could have seen anything if they had been open, all I could do was wait.

I went along for just a few short seconds, one of my hands was pulled forcibly down to my side, my body was pummeled and then I punched down firmly on one elbow, the sand scraping my side all the way up my shoulder. When my feet came back down, I got up and looked about. I had gone maybe 15 yards…cool, I thought, only dimly aware that water was leaking out of both nostrils. I collected myself and headed back to see if I could repeat or improve upon the experience. It was a blast.

K