water
Hampton was quiet this morning. From the road, closed shops and sleeping houses were revealed one at a time through a veil of mist that crept inland from the coast past the marshes.
I pulled into a spot at the wall across from 10th Street, and turned the engine off. Beyond the concrete, waves could be heard breaking with a low, muffled thunder. A woman standing at the wall 30 feet away was watching the tens of indistinguishable surfers scattered like seals in the water. Like her, I watched at a distance for a short while, waiting for the next set to decide if this was the place. The waves formed subtly from behind the gray fog as slow-moving shadows in a sea of nearly-gray bluish-green, shadows that darkened as they approached and suddenly fell into churning white explosions. I figured this place was as good as any.
I paddled out on the water, and it crept into my suit, cool for an instant, then warm. With a gush, I cut through the top of a breaker and felt a rush as I anticipated the chill to my face. It wasn't too cold, but November will be.
The ocean was like glass in-between sets of waves. Ripples echoed outward from me and my board in slow motion as though the water was hot fudge. I looked into the fog, and waited for my wave.
Nearing low tide, the sun made a push and burned off some of the fog. As the world got brighter, it became nearly completely void of contrast. The sky, ocean, and even the waves became nearly indistinguishable from one another. It was like light was hitting everything evenly in all directions, I've never seen anything like it.
Surf was average today. Some waves were ridable, most closed out. I surfed for 3 hours, had a hard time with the rights, and found a few nice lefts, one of which felt like it was going to swallow me in a barrel. This is surfing for me.
I pulled into a spot at the wall across from 10th Street, and turned the engine off. Beyond the concrete, waves could be heard breaking with a low, muffled thunder. A woman standing at the wall 30 feet away was watching the tens of indistinguishable surfers scattered like seals in the water. Like her, I watched at a distance for a short while, waiting for the next set to decide if this was the place. The waves formed subtly from behind the gray fog as slow-moving shadows in a sea of nearly-gray bluish-green, shadows that darkened as they approached and suddenly fell into churning white explosions. I figured this place was as good as any.
I paddled out on the water, and it crept into my suit, cool for an instant, then warm. With a gush, I cut through the top of a breaker and felt a rush as I anticipated the chill to my face. It wasn't too cold, but November will be.
The ocean was like glass in-between sets of waves. Ripples echoed outward from me and my board in slow motion as though the water was hot fudge. I looked into the fog, and waited for my wave.
Nearing low tide, the sun made a push and burned off some of the fog. As the world got brighter, it became nearly completely void of contrast. The sky, ocean, and even the waves became nearly indistinguishable from one another. It was like light was hitting everything evenly in all directions, I've never seen anything like it.
Surf was average today. Some waves were ridable, most closed out. I surfed for 3 hours, had a hard time with the rights, and found a few nice lefts, one of which felt like it was going to swallow me in a barrel. This is surfing for me.