My Most Embarrassing Wipeout
I'm working on a 2.0 version of Almond's Guide to Your First Year of Surfing right now. There are some things I want to update about the outline and structure of the book to make it as helpful as possible to eager novice surfers.
One thing I was reflecting on this morning is the fact that progress isn't linear—it's usually quite uneven.
One day, you might have a surf where everything is clicking and coming easily. Your surfing feels smooth and connected and you continually surprise yourself.
The next time you paddle out, it suddenly feels like this is your first time doing this. Your timing is off, your feet feel clumsy, and you can't seem to catch a wave to save your life.
Such is the uneven journey of the surfer.
Like you, I have experienced the full array of this spectrum. From great sessions to humbling ones.
Today, I wanted to share the story of an embarrassing wipeout that has been stuck in my brain for more than a decade.
It was a Fall day at Blackies in Newport Beach. If you know anything about Blackies, it's more of a Winter time spot, so it goes fairly dormant during the Summer months. This creates a sort of back-to-school type energy in October when the first West / Northwest swells of the season arrive. You are reunited with all of the familiar faces that you haven't seen for the past 4 months.
On this particular Fall day, the waves were GOOD. Peaky, playful, and GOOD. And naturally, all of the usual suspects were in the water. There was a palpable energy because the waves don't get this good very often, and it was good to be back in the lineup to kick off the Winter season.
I paddled out on my 6'0 twin fin fish that morning and said hello to some friends and surf lineup acquaintances. I found my spot in the lineup and waited with anticipation for my first wave.
I didn't have to wait long before an awesome looking set wave broke the horizon and started coming right to me. It was one of those things where I just so happened to be in the perfect position for it, and everyone around knew it.
A friend of mine shouted "yeah, Dave!" as I paddled out to meet the incoming wave.
Positioned perfectly to claim the set wave and all of its accompanying glory, I spun my 6’0 twin fin fish, and paddled effortlessly into the left-hander.
As I pressed my hands against the deck of my board to pop to my feet, my right hand slipped... But it didn’t slip off the rail of the board, like you would expect. Somehow it slipped to the left, across my body toward my opposite hand. So instead of popping to my feet and setting up for a picture-perfect bottom turn, I ended up flipped over laying flat on my back on the deck of my board.
I was now careening down the face of the wave lying helplessly like an upside-down tortoise.
There was no recovering.
The perfect set wave that had generously swung my way was now crashing down upon me and my moment of glory was now a moment of great embarrassment in front of a crowded lineup.
After collecting myself and paddling back out, the same friend who had yelled “yeah, Dave!” just disappointedly asked “what happened??" as she paddled away.
The rest of the session continued in just about the same fashion. For whatever reason, I just didn't have it that day. Don't get me wrong, there have been plenty of days since when I either did or did not have what it takes to properly surf, but for some reason this day is cemented in my memory.
If you surf at all, you will experience the same inexplicable cycle of some great days, some humbling days, and some in-between days. It's part of immersing yourself in an environment that you can't control, and trying to pick off a few empty waves to yourself for a free ride to the beach.
Don't be discouraged by the setbacks and humbling moments. Just live to paddle out another day, and who knows... it could be one of those magical sessions where everything just clicks.
