P.R. November 2005

Page 7 - Lisa’s Going Home Soon

All good things must come to an end, and Lisa has just about run out of time.

It’s her second to last day here, and the environment decides to cooperate by throwing her a completely flawless shoulder high day with almost no wind at all. There’s a bit of an overcast, but aside from that, it couldn’t be more perfect for her.

Crowd? About three beginners who really don’t figure into the deal at all.

Crystal clear water, with that funny greenish grey and silvery look that it gets when it’s really glassy on a day without direct sunlight.

The middle peak just keeps on delivering the goods, and today it’s on its best behavior.

Lisa sets things up in a hurry, and proceeds to start catching a LOT of waves. She’s mostly going right, working on her backside top turn cutbacks and is getting excellent results with the waves she’s catching. Unlike several days we’ve seen up to this point, the waves are much more walled up, but not closing out at all. Lisa paddles in, fires off down the line, carves it back around from the top, and then brings it back around, downline, and works it to the bitter end, over and over and over.

She’s in hog heaven, without a care in the world.

I’m over on the left, just having a goofy good time going backwards, rifle-shotting down the line, playing with the lip using the palms of my hands and my fingertips. There’s something about surfing backwards that enhances the tactile aspects and joys of surfing, and today is an especially sensuous day for some reason.

There’s just NOBODY around anywhere near where we’re having our little wave party together, and it goes on for a couple of hours, until we’re reaching a state of exhaustion, once again.

Lisa takes her share of the lefts, also, and works them nicely, staying right in the slot as she whistles along frontside.

After a while longer, a guy shows up with a little boy of about ten or twelve. Dad moves right over with us into the peak, and we’re tickled to be able to watch him push his little guy into waves that are well over his head. Once in, the kid can do it just fine, and on one wave he goes right, working the wave well the whole time, for about a hundred and fifty yards down the point. I never get a single look at him the whole time, ‘cause the wave is much taller than he is and completely blocks him from view, but I get to see a whole series of sprays and tracks coming up over the back of the wave, telling me he’s still going and still pulling moves.

What a stoke it is to watch that little kid tearing it up on that wave!

Dad sits outside, watchfully, and grins in agreement when I tell him the kid’s murdering it.

Yet another wonderful couple of complete strangers, down here playing in the waves.

At last, Lisa and I are too tired to do it justice any longer, and we depart, letting dad and his young’un have the thing all to themselves.

Bittersweet.

Lisa will be gone tomorrow, and neither one of us is very happy about the prospect.

That said, Lisa has had a supremely excellent day of waves and pronounces this session, the best session of her life. Having watched her, I can understand completely. She was in her element today, firing on all eight cylinders, and just as happy, carefree, and stoked as it gets.

It’s why we surf, right?