P.R. November 2005

Page 2 - First Waves

 

Great to be here. Even greater to be somewhere I recognize a little bit.

Got up early and it’s wave check time. Rob’s out piddling with his signs (he paints really artistic signs and Lisa is quite taken with the quality of his work) and seems disinclined to go look at the waves, so me and Lisa get in the minivan and go down to Maria’s/Dome’s to have a look see.

Overhead and then some.

Nice.

Wind has a fair bit of north in it, and Dome’s is all horsed up. Maria’s, on the other hand, is much cleaner. The swell is a bit uneven and almost looks like a couple of swells crossing one another, with a medium wave spacing. That said, it would easily qualify as one of the best days of the year in Florida, and on certain years even better than that.

Riders are spread out along the point at Maria’s although there’s a pretty good knot of folks riding the middle peak in addition to another knot over at the head of the point. The main body of the swell is about as north as it can be and still be able to turn the corner and arrive with any kind of integrity. The middle peak is well defined and has a left that’s working nicely, against the grain, back toward the head of the point, in addition to a more normal-looking right that’s working downpoint, towards Dogman’s. Lisa is brand new to all of this, and it’s my job to get her comfortable with the new situation before I go off and start grabbing things for myself. She’s understandably nervous about the waves, the people, the lineup, and any hazards that may be lurking unnoticed, so I walk her through things as we head back to Rob’s to get the boards and make ready to paddle out.

Got the boards and back down on the sand for a coat of wax and preparatory remarks to Lisa.

I advise her that today the waves are much smaller, the farther down the point you go, and that she will do well to surf over there not only from a reduced size standpoint, but also from a reduced crowd standpoint. Lisa has a heart of gold, and is actually more worried about her hitting someone else than the other way around. She knows she’s new here and wants very much to eliminate any chance that she will interfere with another surfer riding a wave or even paddling out. She’s a sweetus.

I’ve told her about Piston’s, where an old boat motor came to it’s final resting place (the rest of the boat is long since dissolved) with a set of large pistons completely exposed, and sticking up to the surface, and even slightly above sometimes during low tide. Don’t get tangled up with the pistons, ‘cause you could really come to some serious grief if you did so. Fortunately, they are a pretty good ways down point and well inside the main line of breaking waves and could only be a problem when paddling out, coming back in, or riding teency little waves to the bitter end.

We enter the water right there in front of the parking lot and allow the current to pull us down the point as we head outside.

I get through first, a bit past the middle peak, and Lisa arrives somewhat later, well-exercised from the paddle.

So now I begin to set a lineup for the little peaks that are coming in way over here, past Piston’s but not all the way to Dogman’s, marking my place with distinct landmarks along the shore. Once Lisa arrives, I have a fairly decent set of lineups picked out and proceed to set her up with them. Up the point, at the middle peak, a blonde woman on a boogie board is just tearing it up on the larger waves, going for it at full throttle. Lisa sees her and is equally impressed.

A fair bit of explaining, distinguishing one set of palm trees on the shore from another, and doing the same with various houses on the hill behind the palms, and Lisa is getting there nicely and beginning to feel much more comfortable with her navigational fix on her chosen location. Where I have located her, the waves are refracting into fairly wedgy peaks coming in about head high on Lisa.

Lisa advises that she’s ok, and catches a couple to prove it, and sends me on my way.

I ease up toward the middle peak, continuing to refine my own lineups as shifty sets come in here and there along the zone. Not being too greedy, nor attempting to grab everything in sight, I ease myself among the folks riding the peak and begin to start catching a few, being very conscious of my new guy status and giving a lot of waves away and completely refraining from engaging in “paddle competitions” with my fellow riders.

Soon enough, I come across the blonde lady on the sponge and we get to talking and I mention Lisa, and her concerns and worries over this brand new experience in her surfing life.

Before long, the blonde lady is paddling down toward Lisa and immediately strikes up a conversation with her. I can tell that she’s giving Lisa strong encouragement and is doing her best to help her find her way around and maximize the pleasure of her surfing today.

Nice.

By now I’ve worked myself into the middle of things on the peak, and am coming to the realization that everybody out there is a bit impatient, and is unwilling to sit way outside and grab the larger set waves when they arrive every so often.

This, of course, is right up my alley.

As anybody who’s surfed with me well knows, I love nothing better than to sit out way past everybody else, and patiently linger there, waiting for the largest strays.

Which I proceed to start doing and the Bewitching Hour is on, in full force and effect.

Nobody shows the least inclination toward moving out there with me, and every wave I ride, I ride alone with nobody anywhere around me. I’m taking the second and third waves in the sets as often as possible, allowing the first one(s) to sweep everybody out of the way and leave me with a wide-open playing field.

The waves at Maria’s don’t really tube that much, and instead of that, today you get a really nice workable face that you can drop in on late, pull a nice hard bottom turn on, and then work down the line until the shoulder finally kind of chunks out and the wave gets too fat and kind of dies. There’s a middle deck of intermittent clouds, and for the most part it’s a gray sky, but the water is warm and very clear, and the lips have a crystal silvery look to them and they’re somehow still managing to sparkle even without the sun on them. Very pretty. Occasional shots of direct sunlight only serve to enhance the beauty of the scene.

I’ve brought both of my surfboards and am riding my “shortboard.” It’s 9-8 and has a really deep, low-rake fin in it. I can turn as hard off the bottom as I please, with no worries of any kind about squirrelly handling, sideslipping, or spinouts. This is just the way I like it and I’m having a blast on wave after wave after wave. Bob outside like a complete idiot for ten or fifteen minutes, while everybody else jacks their wave counts as high as they can on stuff that passes under me unridden. Spot ‘em coming out in the deep water offshore and begin to preset to where I think it’s going to break. Check to see where the people inside of me are located and paddle hard right up under the peak that’s now standing up well overhead. Either turn around leisurely enter the wave on the “smaller” ones, or paddle madly outside toward the larger ones, whipping the board around at the last second as I’m being drawn up the face of the wave as it starts to go vertical and then sketching into it, but either way, get in to the damn thing as best I can. Drop straight down to the bottom, and even hold that straight line for a fraction of a second longer sometimes, taking me down and out onto the flat water ahead of the breaking wave. Lean hard and twist, and then push like hell as the whole rail of the nine-eight lays over and sets into the water, and then carve and accelerate out to the clear water around the broken wave. Work the shoulder with cutbacks, pumps, carves, or whatever the geometry of this or that particular wave dictates. Over the top, or hop off the back of the board if a falling section gets ahead of me. Paddle back out and reset my lineup, and then sit and wait around until it decides to throw another one my way. Repeat.

Lisa remains lined up down the point and we’re both in Surfer’s Heaven.

Between sets, and after rides paddling out, I find myself chatting amiably with my fellow riders. There’s a guy out on a yellow boogie board who’s just MURDERING it on that thing. He’s a local boy but speaks English well which allows my sorry gringo ass to communicate with him.

He’s as nice as can be, and seems to appreciate my old school approach on the longboard, which is nice to hear from a local guy.

Plenty of other nice folks in the lineup, too. We’re all just playing in the water like little kids, and there’s a complete absence of hotshots, posers, and ripoffs. The kinds of idiots you see regularly at the Cocoa Beach Pier, or any of those other weak spots favored by the Tea & Crumpet Society, are conspicuous by their absence. The locals all seem to get along fine for now, but I sense that underneath things, they will sort you out in a hurry if you were to paddle out here and try to pull some silly Joe Hot Guy bullshit with them or play dumb and drop in on people, pretending you “didn’t see” them. It’s still too early in the season for that kind of scum to have arrived, and the folks in the water seem to be really enjoying the opportunity to just surf and laugh without having to start any serious enforcement of the local rules of the road.

Suits the living shit out of me!

Eventually I re-encounter our blonde friend, and inquire as to Lisa’s status. She says “Down there somewhere,” with a wave of her arm toward Dogman’s, and I start looking hard to find her.

No Lisa.

Not in the water, not on the beach.

Uh oh.

My worry gene kicks into gear and I start really scanning the whole area hard, looking for my Beautiful Girl, and when I don’t see her, I immediately catch the first little thing that comes by and head toward the shore, still looking hard all the while.

I finally spot her not very far off the beach at all, in the back off, paddling for all she’s worth on her little shortboard, beating back up-point against the current, attempting to come in exactly where she went out and avoid the rock ledges, exposed and just underwater, down from our entry point.

Lisa is a strong woman, and by the time I make it to her, she’s successfully beaten the current and exits right in front of the parking lot at the place we started out from. That said, she’s TIRED and I can tell it.

Unfortunately, we hadn’t discussed alternate “get out” spots prior to hitting it, so she missed the spot that’s down a little from Piston’s, and has had to work mightily to get back up the point against the current. She’s a tired Lisa, but stoked with her first surf session in Puerto Rico.

So we sit and rest, and enjoy the ambience of the place for a couple of hours and then reluctantly head back to Rob’s.

Not bad at all for day number one, and there’s plenty more to come.

Ahhhhhh………life is good.

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