Head high to 1-3′ overhead, a touch of sideshore wind and only light texture. Sounded good enough for me, so I made the short trip down to Linda Mar this morning for my first session since moving to San Francisco. Was it my worst day in the water? That’s a tough one - there are plenty of contenders for that title - but it had to be close.
I should have known in the parking lot. First of all, the surf wasn’t head high, and the standouts were mostly closed out. Whatever, I didn’t strap a board to the roof of my car and drive all that way for nothing. Ominous foreshadowing event #1: Being the coldwater noob that I am, I put my wetsuit on backwards (EDIT: I have a step-in, which means no telltale zipper down the back - I’m not that much of a kook). *sigh* Instead of putting it back in the car and driving off like I should have, I put it back on, the right way this time, and trotted down to the beach, sans boots and hood (this will become important later).
While I was standing on the beach looking at the surf, a kid putting on his leash eyed my wetsuit and started up a conversation.
Grom: Hey, is that the O’Neill Mutant?
TheKook: Yep, well spotted.
Grom: I didn’t know they came in that color.
TheKook: They do in North Carolina.
Grom: Oh, really? North Carolina’s a little warmer than this, huh?
TheKook: Depends on the time of year. Winter’s about like this.
Grom: Well, it’s gonna get a whole lot worse.
Ominous foreshadowing event #2. Thanks, kid.
Seeing exactly zero surfers without boots, and only a couple without hoods, I trotted back to the car and pulled out the boots, but left the hood. Poor decision.
About fifty yards from shore, with no real channel to speak of, the breakers started to hit. Five minutes later - spent paddling against crumbly mess that I would’ve laughed at when I was in shape - I looked to my right and saw three surfers walking their boards through the shorebreak. I slid off the board to find that I had been struggling to make it out in three and a half feet of water. Ominous foreshadowing event #3.
Walking fifty yards further out only quickened the end. I ducked my head three times in the five minutes that followed, and instantly regretted it each time. “Ice cream headache” doesn’t really do it justice. Three turtle rolls and I’d had enough: I turned the board around and headed back to shore, having been in the water all of 12 minutes.
I remember talking to someone about surfing in North Carolina in winter, who said “Wetsuits are so awesome now, it’s like the temperature doesn’t even matter.” No sir, wetsuits are not awesome. You know what’s awesome? Rolling up to the parking lot in boardshorts and being in the lineup five minutes later. You know what else is awesome? Taking a dunk between sets to cool off, because it’s a hot day.
Maybe I’d feel differently if I’d worn the hood. Maybe. Right now, though, I’d like to think my mama raised a boy with enough common sense to stay out of the ocean when it’s that goddamn cold. Fuck. That.
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