Andy and I paddled out at tenth street at dawn again. It was some kind of unrelenting torture that only a surfer could understand.
The conditions were perfect wind-wise, and the leftover swell was just enough to get you thinking about how, if you were free and unencumbered, and some kind of lucky... you would be at the point at that moment.
But, we have responsibility, and that was making my neck seize up. You can't get these moments back. I knew what was happening just down the beach from us that may as well have been a million miles away. We caught a couple good ones in the little time we had, but the walls were just enough to tease and show a spark of what they could have been if the tide had only been low. The tide was all wrong for tenth street, almost high. I did catch one really good left, way outside, that this photo duplicates in my mind's eye. But, overall, it just always seems to happen this way. When the conditions finally get right, it is usually too small to break anywhere but the places you just can't seem to get to at that moment.
Maybe in the morning there will be something left, and I will be at the place I wish to be.
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