We are all but minnows in a hurricane.
I picked an interesting year to try and surf 366 (it’s a leap year) days in a row, being a traditional longboarder and having taken a 5 year hiatus, jumping back in the ocean about a month before I set my heart on my goal.
No matter. My reconnection with the ocean has made me appreciate every last wave spun by the sea. Big, small, hollow, heavy, crumbly, bumpy, or like rippling sheets of glass… every single wave, whether ridden or not, has its own story to tell.
I’m not saying that the ocean should be taken lightly and that any type of conditions are fine for anybody to play in; the sea is a force to be reckoned with, and has a deep unmatched power that can crush you like a flea should you question it. On simple, small days I’ve seen gut-wrenching accidents that should’ve happened at Mavericks – collarbones almost poking out of shoulders on a one foot day at topaz. And I remember the big scary days like it was yesterday. 18 year old Morgan paddled into 10 foot windy sets north of the Pismo Beach pier while competing in the WSA, and just before pushing through the last breaker, I looked to my left and saw a pier piling not 5 feet away from me, my peripheral cut off during the exhausting mission to the lineup and all of my attention honed in on the beasts breaking in front of me. I proceeded to get smashed into the pilings, and with a bloody foot from skin-shearing barnacles and a bumped, dazed head was able to find my way out from the death trap that was the middle of the pier to catch a wave, getting second in my heat.
I know there are limits. I’m continuing to test them as I grow as a surfer and waterwoman, and I’m constantly seeing what the ocean will allow. As I prod softly here and there and learn from mistakes, right choices, and different movements, I feel a deeper bond with the sea. The past week I’ve put myself in some what would be normally unsettling situations, and the ocean pushed back, making me swim what felt like miles for my board after a 10 foot set broke on my face at the cove. Today I took a dip around 7 at my home break of the Hermosa Pier before the Mira Costa and Redondo high school alumni contest started, and I strangely felt comfortable with the big, heavy walls coming in. On my last wave I paddled my heart out for a set, dropped hard and steep, did a few turns and shimmied up to the nose, and not realizing I was noseriding into the shorebreak, I face planted and came up with a mouth and hairful of sand. I imagine the ocean was telling me “don’t get too comfortable.”
I’ll keep pushing. There are always small waves to be found, and ways to get around big or windy surf. I do want to have fun, take long, almost effortless rides, and fly down waves without stress. But I also want to improve my skills in gnarlier situations, experience the power, ride alongside it, and most importantly… respect it.
