Goodbye, Costa Rica...

Monday evening I saw a little wave peeling off to the right of the river mouth and decided to try out Helen's new little 5'6" JS. It rode pretty much like I thought it would. It was like riding a bottle cap. I was trying to think ... what would be the ideal wave to ride this thing on? I mean, you would have to rule out overhead surf, I think (unless you were Kelly Slater), because how could you even catch the wave with that little disc in the first place? Let's say you DID catch a big wave, since you have the upper body strength of Arnold. How in the heck could you put it on a rail without spinning out? Unless you are Kelly Slater, I just don't see it. In fact, I have yet to see it in real life. I did some turns, pushed it as hard as I could in the little Matanzas like lines, but it seemed kinda... well, boring, especially after the past week. I felt the despair of going home, back to the weak waves we typically get. I want these kind of waves more!

A feeling that I had wasted a lot of my life came over me, just then.

Even though, compared to most people, I have ridden more quality waves in remote locations, blah, blah, blah... I have spent a lot of time waiting for waves, rather than surfing them. But, on the up side, it sure keeps you stoked when you finally do get real waves. I get the feeling that if I lived here in Costa Rica, I would become more and more picky about what I considered a good day. As it is, after forty years, I am still like a crack addict, paddling around with unbridled passion for that next wave.

So, that little board felt just like I thought it would. No drive, no rail, but it would respond to your every breath. It gave the illusion that you were surfing loose and fast, but it felt like I wasn't really going anywhere.

I would not be talking Helen into selling it to me.

She is already planning on giving it to Thalia and Dane, her kids, anyway. And, from what I have observed, they will probably not even fully appreciate that board. I thought back to when I began surfing. I would have traded my own brother for ANY kind of board, let alone a brand new surfboard from California. When I first discovered surfing, I found a piece of wood in the attic of the house we had just moved into, shaped like a surfboard, and nearly went out of my mind. Someone had simply taken a door, drawn the shape of a surfboard on it, and cut it out. I sanded the hard edges, painted it turquoise, and held that thing under my arm like it was the Holy Grail sprinkled with magic fairy dust. I paddled it around the bay near our house, and felt like I was on top of the world. When I finally earned my first board at sixteen, it was like no feeling I had had ever. I can summon that feeling, even now.

So, I guess it is pretty dang cool that forty years later I am still stoked. This morning, my last day for surfing in Costa Rica this summer of 2009, the waves looked pretty awesome from the beach, blue-green, glassy, and well the photo is actually from this day. There were about five guys out at dawn before us. It was definitely smaller. It even seemed, dare I say it? a little boring with so much less power. But, I knew tomorrow I would be back home to that sea of endless waiting. So, I paddled out with my freind, Helen, and we caught a few.