Costa Rica: Volume Two

I could feel the wind on my back that morning. It was 5:15am and we had already eaten; toast with peanut butter, english muffins and Oreos. Coffee of course. We were walking the quarter-mile from our bungalow to the beach, logs tucked beneath our arms and sunscreen smeared all over the place. The sun hadn't even cracked the horizon when we paddled out to a peak about 100 feet in front of us. The wind, which would blow offshore all morning, was starting to pick up. The first few disappeared into some dark corner toward the back of my brain. The good and bad blending together as we took advantage of our early arrival. Karissa stayed ashore to snap a few photos, while Chris, Rena and I shared shoulder high sets until the sun showed itself and a crowd of hungover hooligans stumbled from shore to sea.

Surfing my BN Lightweight was rather difficult in these kind of conditions; the concave nose and lack of weight made catching waves more arduous than you might imagine. I made do, though, and soon found myself dropping in a lot later than I would have otherwise, making long, slow bottom turns and trying not to trim too high, as the wind would blow me out the back. Chris dove in deep aboard his nine-foot Dave Johnson, laying flat toward the front so as to gain additional entry speed. It worked well. And as the morning progressed, we became increasingly comfortable fighting the wind in our face.


























Photos courtesy of Karissa_Would.

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