The White Noise of Surfing
Going on 3 months of coastal starvation and its super charged little passages like this one out of a balmy, inspirational and thick bind of pages (that I'm stoked I carted along with me) that help the grasp on sanity remain a possibility*. Pavones, Costa Rica is on my mind.
My takeoff is late - one stroke and im in, then after a quick top turn to take the high line, I step directly to the nose. The first section is steep and feathering into the distance but I hang in there and make it onto the flat. Then, instead of backpedaling for a cutback, I stall from upfront, edging my backfoot toward the outside rail to point the board on a line less parallel to the wave face. I lean back in a semi-arch and think light and airy to avoid a pearl. When the wave walls again I return my back foot to the inside rail to get back onto the faster parallel track. I negotiate two more sections like this then the inside walls up and charges, not a thick top to bottom boomer but very fast and very long. I'm maybe halfway through when I see I'm not going to make it. I backpedal and go to the bottom, finding ive gained enough speed on the descent to bottom turn around the end of the little bowl section. I climb back to the top and immediatley go up front again for another extended green water nose glide. By the time I kick out im halfway to the squatter fish camp where the bay starts to sweep towards Langostino. Starting the long paddle back out, I find im aflutter and giddy from the ride, the perfection of the wave, the mindless joy of so much nose time.
I stroke by two squatter kids, who grin, one calling out something I dont catch as my norte companion rips the inside on his shortboard. His wave sections unmakeably (one too many cutbacks) and he kicks back just outside of me. We paddled back out side by side, babbling surf jive as if we are two normal guys sharing classic, empty warm water point surf in paradise.
* The astute reader would have immediately noticed the compunded reference made to sanity, or the act of being 'sane'. Not only is it only a possibility, but it is also only a possibility of a grasp on the thing, and only helping retain that possibility of a grasp even. A kinda triple whammy if you like. WTF is sanity anway? I'll leave you to contemplate that doozy yourself**
**The further astute reader would have by now noticed that i've been reading too much Allan Weisbecker.
