Entry and exit are tricky at my home break, except on the smallest days. This morning the cobblestones at the base of the cliff were in a steep pile, and shorepound sent them tumbling up the slope. I mistimed my approach and was pushed back to the shallows while paddling out. The fins scraped the bottom ominously and I rolled off, took two steps forward to deep water, and continued out. Past the shorebreak, I flipped Rocket over to look for damage. The deck was unharmed, but then I saw something was missing – my center fin.
Crap! The fin box was fine with the screw still in place, but my 6'2" had only side fins now. I told Jess about the loss and went back to the beach to search the shoreline in vain, peering into the murky green-blue water. My fin was gone, forever. There's no way I could feel worse about littering plastic into the ocean.
I rejoined Jess on the secondary peak, shaking my head, and she graciously offered to swap boards with me after a while. Nah, it would be an experiment. On the first wave I caught, I made a cautious bottom turn, but the tail slid out on the top turn. Squirrelly!
The waves were up to shoulder-high on the off-peak, which was far less crowded than the better main peak on a late Sunday morning. The functional stance I learned at Surf Simply once again proved its magic, as that first wave was the only time I lost control of the board. It was sensitive to the most subtle adjustments of weight and positioning, but I worked it out. Really, I think I could surf a door, just like Kelly Slater.
I rode a lot of fun waves on my newly-minted twin-fin before I had my fill. Now I'm curious to try my fish as a twinny again. Stoked!
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