After all these years, I still can't understand it. How can a day be so good, while having the identical buoy reading as a day that is so bad? You have to be totally free, if you are a surfer in Florida. You have to be free to babysit the surf every minute of daylight, or else you risk missing the magic window of optimum surf. No one understands this, really, except another addicted surfer. Bob is probably the only person I know who has this luxury, and even he missed it this morning, because he trusted the surf reports.
I woke up at dawn and looked at the buoy readings. Hmmmm, up a bit. I set off to check for myself. I pulled into the pier parking lot, and pulled up on the north side to see a guy drop in on a chest high peeling right. My heart started pumping. Whaaa? Why did it look bigger than yesterday? because the buoy had ticked up a hair you might think, right? So, I went for a look at the south side. There were about ten guys already out on a peak down the beach. Four guys on the north side already... hmmm. Think I will go to tenth, since Bruce and Karen said they were going to go there, too, after I called with the update. I wondered about Matanzas, and that awful feeling crept over me, that I had already missed that window and Bob would be telling me all about it.
At tenth street, there was a smattering of guys, and I saw some nice peaks. I mean, the waves actually looked pretty good! It looked about chest high on the sets and not closing out, really nice shape. I paddled out and had it to myself for about a half hour. It was really fun! There were even barrels, I looked right out of one and came out just amazed. I thought about Matanzas. OMG, I was betting it was so good right about then. The water was chilly, 74 degrees, and a bit murky, but the waves had some punch, and I was so glad I had decided to not listen to the surf reports and had looked at the buoys.
It was just wave after wave, and still no Bruce and Karen. I figured they had seen a nice peak along the ride and just stopped and jumped in. Junior showed up, and we waved to each other, and she caught a bunch on the inside. Three things will make me remember this day. Number One: This wave I caught peeled all the way from tenth street to eighth, I swear it! I took off and it opened up and then I turned and turned again and just rode, and it kept peeling and rolling and it just became ridiculous. I mean, when I stepped off on the inside, I was laughing. How far was that? Just silly, it was. Number Two: That tube that just opened up, and I pulled into it and rode along just smiling inside, what the heck? And came out. POP! Number Three: After that really good wave, this guy on a short board started talking to me, saying he was going to try to paddle over where I was to try and get my "leftover crap," that I was "so good," and I was getting all the good ones. He was so nice, and he kept shaking his head, smiling. I could see he was a little frustrated, not catching much on his little board, and I said I was cheating by riding something with more width and length. Then this really nice one reared up and I dropped in late and pulled into it, but didn't make it out. Ta-da!
So when I got in, I called Bob, and he was home. Whaa? Why aren't you surfing? I ask. The reports sounded like crap, he says. I hated to tell him, but I had called. Never trust the reports! I guess he hadn't looked at the buoys. Oh well, I said, let's keep an eye on it for tomorrow. A dawn session may be in order. Oops. I just jinxed it. Surfing in Florida will drive you insane, sooner or later.
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