It's taken a lot of practice, some bad decisions, a few good poundings and a bit of success, but I think I can now call myself a paddlesurfer. I don't take these things likely, that is, if you have paddled and caught a wave, you're not a paddlesurfer. Just like someone who runs once a month is not a runner. I'm not being a snob, I'm just being honest. I've rock climbed twice in my life, I would not call myself a climber.
But the point is not that you need to earn your title, the point is that I now feel confident in the water. Rather than timidly bobbing around and waiting for a wave to come to me. There is a bit of a Catch 22 to improving. If you don't get any waves, you can't get better. If you go into the line up and don't know what you're doing, you can A) piss people off, B) get hurt or C) Both A and B. I'm a safety first kind of person and don't ever want someone to get hurt due to my inability. Thankfully I had a few good days that weren't crowded and I took advantage of them. But one day in particular changed things for me.
In November, some big waves came to Ventura. Surfline was reporting 8 to 10 ft. which would be about twice as big as anything I'd been in before. On Friday after work, I decided to go check it out, bringing my board with me just in case.
I heard them before I saw them. The power and sound of the waves was inspiring and frightening at the same time. In my mind the battle raged. I could catch my biggest wave yet, or my biggest mistake. My decision was made. I didn't think about it again. I pulled the board off the car and made my way down to the beach.
Just getting out through the white water was a challenge. I got pitched off my board several times. During one toss the board come up towards me and cracked me right on my left shin. In my fear driven rush to punch through the waves I got right back on and paddled for my life. It wasn't until I was beyond the breakers that I saw the blood. Since I was standing I knew there was no real damage, but I hadn't even caught a wave yet and the ocean was making it's mark.
The waves were coming in like massive walls and reaching the pier. If you took off on the shoulder you would get dragged into the pier. Now I'm not a fan of being in the crowd- there's too much hassle, testosterone and frayed nerves for me. But in this case, I had no other option.
Cautiously, I moved north about 100 yards where 30-40 surfers were marking territories and gazing out into the horizon looking for the next bomb. The vibe was like none other I'd felt. It was a mix of testosterone, nerves, fear and awe. My nerves were jumpy just standing there. Occasionally a rogue wave or two, taller and moving faster than the others, would roll through, causing a moment of chaos as some paddled out for cover and other looked to get into position. I had trouble just getting over some of the waves.
Soon though my fear turned to determination. I wasn't going to sit there and watch the waves go by, I needed on one. But I wanted to be safe as well, for myself and others. My SUP is 9 ft, and it's hard to kick out on big waves. If there were someone inside (who would have the right of way) I could potentially be in a bad way. So I was looking not just for a good wave, but one that was clean and clearly mine.
An hour went by. I had a few I wanted to paddle into, but there were other riders on already. In this situation I was practicing extreme caution in my selection process. Any mistake would be a bad one. Then I saw one coming and I was in the best position to take it. This was it.
I said to myself "that's the one," and paddled into position. As the wave came, I took one more look to see if anyone was on my inside. I was clear. It was on.
I love the feeling when the wave first picks you up. You surge forward and upwards getting the first feel for the wave. I put down a few hard paddle strokes and was on it. Dropping down the face, I shot up to a speed I'd never reached before. Instantly I knew I was on a wave that had consequences beyond what I'd faced before. My focus was pinpointed to that exact instant.
It sounds corny and cliche, but I was fully connected to this wave. I could feel the flowing kinetic power under my board. My board was an extension of me, and I was an extension of the wave. In addition to feeling the wave it was making itself loud and clear, it's threatening crashing noise reminding me in immediacy that I was not in control. It made me more focused, and more than a bit scared. My blade was on my right, on the wave side, and I could feel it touching the wave as I screamed diagonally across this raging wall of water. Nearing the bottom of the wave I took a quick glance back at my paddle. I like to angle it up slightly, so it's about 2 feet above my head. When I saw that the lip was another 2 feet over my blade, I said a single word expletive in my mind. Nothing was in my head but a mix of focus, fear and stoke. In that order.
All of this took about 10 seconds. I kept screaming along, just in front of the crashing whitewater that sprayed me. Looking down the line, I saw the beautiful blue-green curl stretching out in front. It's glassy concave form contrasted with the blue sky and green foothills. The wave began to pick up more speed and the lip was starting to outpace me. I couldn't match the speed of the lip and I was getting behind this behemoth of liquid energy. I braced myself to get crushed and go ragdolling into the water.
Despite the power, when the whitewater smashed into me, I managed to stay upright. Shocked, I let out a little holler, gave a few quick paddles and found myself back in the pocket. The mix of focus, fear and stoke changed, now it was just focus and stoke.
Seeing that the wave was slowing a bit and losing a bit of size, and feeling like I could do anything now, my mindset switched. I wasn't just surviving this wave, I was actually riding it. I felt like one with this single bit of the ocean, as if it had appeared only for me. I wanted to create something that would last in my mind on this liquid canvas I'd been given. I charged up to the top, planted my paddle and cut back to accelerate down the face again. Now I'm not delusional, and I know my surfing skills are marginal at best when compared to others, but it was the best surfing I'D ever done. I made a few more turns, getting more confident and aggressive with each one. In my mind I was tearing it up. But I'm sure that anyone that saw me from the shore thought the wave was wasted on my skills. But that doesn't matter. This was for me and no one else.
As the wave's energy waned, I finally kicked out- stoked and tired both mentally and physically. Normally, I'm the type that suffer from OMS, or One More Syndrome. But this time there was no doubt, I was going straight in. I felt like that wave was meant for me at that exact time. If I went back out I would probably not get another one like it, or worse, I would fall or do something silly and in my mind that is all I would remember. Plus, the rush of adrenaline I was feeling was like nothing I'd ever experienced.
Most of the sports I do aren't exactly what you would call "thrill" sports. Sure you can go fast on a bike and skis, and I've had some pretty epic rides on both, but this was something completely different. On a wave you are on something that is also moving, that you have to feel, read and react to. It is a medium that shifts constantly and requires 100 percent focus. The adrenaline I felt coursing through me made
want to yell on the beach and give random strangers a high five while slamming a Red Bull and calling everyone 'Bro!" Now I know why surfers react the way they do after a perfect wave. It's a singular point in time that can never be duplicated, but it is forever with you.
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