Bessie and the Giant Waves

The waves crash.  The ebb and flow a bit unpredictable, but later they'll be steadier and strong.  The power of the ocean in Playa Escondido is one surfers the world over flock to.  They mount their brightly colored surf boards and paddle their arms propelling them into the waves' force.  Surfers lay to the boards gliding under and through the powerful force of the waves.  Others manage to glide over a not yet crested wave barely slipping over the peak and disappearing to the further side before the wave crashes, its force rolling hundreds of feet into shore.  The perfect wave comes and a surfer readies himself to fly.  He's braced and about to stand and the wave perfectly catches his board and he glides the horizontal distance almost inhumanly standing on the wave as it breaks moving into shore. 

The first time the waves won, I couldn't tell up from down.  I was relaxing on the water like a lizard soaking the sun on a branch, just like I saw the skilled surfers doing upshore.  I waited for my perfect wave to take me into shore.  I'd waited and waited, my husband catching a few waves a few feet over, while I excitedly wait for the next. 

Perhaps an intangible force rolled in, because from then on my luck changed.  Many had passed me by before this next one would finally make it to me, breaking just in the right spot to take my board and I to the beach.  Trouble was, it didn't break in just the right spot, nor was I in the right spot, but rather in just the place the wave would crash down.  It pushed me so deep I was lost in the whoosh.  I flailed my arms and legs searching for air, the water that was maybe 5 feet deep was at least twice that with the wave over me.  When I finally found it, I clung to my board letting it drag me into shore.

"You took a good one there," the board rental guy affirmed and almost congratulated (in spanish, of course) as I tossed the yellow hunk of junk onto the sand.  "The waves are really strong.  You have to remember to just keep swimming.  It'll always bring you into shore."

I was roughed up but ready to go again.  I wasn't going to misestimate the wave again this time letting it crash on me.  Of course, the waves had other ideas, and the next large one coming into shore is the one my husband later described as "the wave that ate you for breakfast and spit you back up".  I caught the tail end of the wave this time, so I was too late for the action, but the force coming behind the wave was so strong I didn't glide gently on the top of my intended wave, but yet was shoved inside it.  Stronger than any other wave I'd encountered, I remembered the board rental dude with all his wisdom and that fish from Finding Nemo, "just keep swimming, just keep swimming."  Swimming I did, but the harder I concentrated on swimming I forgot about keeping my mouth shut and finding my board, which found its way into my nose, smack dab between my eyes.  I reached my hand up searching for air, and stumbled onto my feet, my husband looking relieved to see me surface.  A touch of blood dripped from my nose, and I willingly surrendered my crappy yellow board.

I did cruise in on a few baby waves a little down the shoreline where the toddlers played.  I always stick to my philosophy that if I don't get back on the animal that hurt me, I'll never get back on.  And while I'll probably leave snowboarding for braver-types, I'm likely to get on a boogy board again.  The experience ended with my husband punching the waves with invisible boxing gloves, punishing them for the struggle they brought me.

It´s all smiles when we're out of the waves.  Note Kyle's beard, used for intimidation.