The King of Crap

That's what my housemate Jay calls me. Because I continually scan the Point and 38th for those moments when supposedly crappy conditions (onshore winds, full tide, etc) drive away most of the surfers and then - zoom - I'm running back to the house, jumping into my wetsuit and paddling out to enjoy some uncrowded waves.

Like on Sunday evening when, at the tail end of a weekend of good swell, a light onshore breeze and a long wait between sets had the crowd down to only 5 or 6 surfers. By the time I paddled out (just before sunset) there were only three of us. BUT about every 15 minutes a big southern hemisphere swell would roll in through the kelp and break way out the back (right next to a recklessly moored catamaran). In 45 minutes of surfable twilight I picked up three epic rides including an 8 foot set wave that peeled gloriously all the way to the sand. King of Crap indeed.