Woa - Just Defecated (Metaphorically) in My New Winter Wetsuit

Today's surf went like this:

Changed and drove down to Woolacombe. Oh - the waves look a bit big! Maybe not. Maybe ok. Yes I'm changed and brave and I want it to be ok. Right, don't look again, grab board and leg it in.

Yes - not too bad as I paddled to the outside. A couple of duckdives and a few waves 3-4ft lookin' good. Made it out pretty quickly. Pat on the back - well done me. Looked around - all a bit wintry. Right lets find a wave old-son... I looked back out and... woa!

"OUTSIDE!" I 'shouted' quietly to myself...

...and paddled like a madman towards the horizon, which had disappeared behind the first of these terrifying waves. Made it over one, duckdived (as best I can - which is still using the phrase rather loosely) the next and just - only just - made it over the last of the three 6-8ft waves. I made it. I did not actually soil my wetsuit. And I turned and paddled with my swallow-tail between my legs back to the safety of shore.

I chickened out. But I should have listened to my inner voice which told me it was too big for me to go in in the first place. I retain some pride in having got to the outside safely in bigger surf than I have ever been out in before, in then burying my pride, making a decision and returning to shore without the assistance of any emergency service.

To some the surf may have been fine (although there was only one other surfer I could see, further down the beach). In fact after watching the Pro's at Sunset last week it may have seemed positively small. However, with no 'safety of the channel' on our beach breaks it is not easy by any standards. Another lesson in waiting for the right days, the right conditions. Next weekend looks promising...


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