Only one guy out trying to figure out why it was breaking so funky when I suited up (hint: low tide + Secos = yuck). By the time I negotiated all the exposed rocks and got outside there were eight or so of us, with the sun just capping the Santa Monica mountains over Zero. Paddled wide nearly to the windsurfers' rock and settled in to pick up the sets that were peaking out there. All alone. Got more waves in one hour than I got during my entire four-hour session yesterday, way more, in fact.

Fun walls would jack up and pitch only to expire as they hit deep water again; had to be right on the peak as it threw then crank S-turns until the inside racetrack set up. Much more makeable when coming at it from this angle instead of from the normal lineup, a fast wall ending in a barrelling closeout that I mostly tried to float over or bottom turn around, only pulled in for a view once or twice. Beautiful golden reflected dawn light off the tropical clouds and clean, clear water.

Tried to up my wave karma by gracefully kicking out of a wave just as it was beginning to section, giving a fellow who was about ten yards back an excellent shot at it. He missed it but was grateful. By all rights, I should then be stoked up on a few more good sets as the universe rewards me for my good deed, right?

Not so! The last set wave out there had another surfer on it and then the tide did its thing and the wave stopped peaking up, so I moved over to the lineup. Almost immediately the chop really started coming in and frustrating everyone. Picked off a set wave and got bounced out the back of it by a piece of chop while tracking high around someone. After that it was mostly downhill, struggling to get waves not with the crowd but with the ocean. But nothing could possibly ruin that first hour. Not even my failed attempt at boosting my karmic alignment.