Purge the squeakers!
After my crusade, I needed some activity to take my mind off the hard work and silenced creaks. The thought of the slowly fading swell caught my minds eye and other thoughts followed and combined layer by layer until I found myself dirving down 33 towards Ventura in Skip's trusty dusty Toyota pick up. The parking lot that I normally park in is again guarded by the Ventura po po. Nice to know that the surfers in that particular lot are safe. If anyone tries to get in there, I am sure that the police man will have every right to shoot them dead.
Wisely, I park in the next lot and happily pay my 2 buckarinos with a smile freely given to the nice older ladies in the tiny squarish glass box. This is the county's ugliest parking lot by far. If you are in to these kind of things, it is definitely worth a visit and photographic documentation. Hey, here's a thought, how about putting my 2 bucks towards improving the aesthetics around the point? Too much sense?
The waves are a bit smaller than yesterday and the lull between the sets is longer. There's still quite a few surfer's out there. I paddle out to the same area and start fishing for waves. This surf session challenges me for the first three quarters. These waves mostly do not want to be ridden unless you are in the magic launch spot. I cannot remember seeing so many surfer's paddle for and then miss waves. I just kept going for it, finally managing to catch a few... then several... nothing super great or anything. The saving grace is that I don't have the no ride monkey on my back. Then "the wave" comes. I paddle for it. Not very big... but... it's big enough. Paddle, paddle, paddle... seems like I'm gonna miss the bus again... but my last efforts... not giving up, allow me to get it, stand up, cut across it, another right, it gets bigger and bigger while I slip along the top of the wall, links with another wave and I just keep going, maybe 150 yards, I let out a "whoooooooo!" and paddle back out to the top of the line up totally renewed.