Bumped into Surfer Bob, who made it down earlier and was on his way out to do some research work in L.A. He gave me the thumbs-up, and I rushed to get into the water. A light crowd of six or eight guys here, waiting for the sets, and pretty stoked about the past few days.

Elusive, shifty waves that jacked up and then rolled under unexpectedly, making it hard to suss where to sit and whether to paddle outside to avoid being clobbered or all the way to shore in order to catch the wave. Just couldn't tell what to do.

So, I spent a lot of time either caught inside by a set or too far outside to catch anything. Felt good to be learning a spot rather than in the comfort zone; my wave count was already high from the past 5 days so I wasn't too bummed.

Occasionally I did catch a wave, every one a super-fast and hollow screamer down the line, borderline closeouts that held up just enough to make. Didn't get any barrels but definitely had a few verandas as the lip just curled over my head. I focused more on making the waves, looking down the line as the beastie would horseshoe wrap towards me. So fast -- rides wouldn't last very long at all but I'd always be startled upon kicking out and seeing how far I had to paddle back.

Started to feel the muscles getting weak and went in before I got completely noodled. Maybe that's why I had stayed stoked about the session so long -- my brain was buzzing with a runner's high a good eight hours later as I wandered the local farmer's market looking for some choice vegies for dinner. Rode the endorphin wave all evening!