Eventually picked one and struggled with the shorebreak, slipping and falling amongst the rocks. Surfer Bob noted that the tide was pushing in hard enough that we'd eventually be pinned against the cliffs; that, coupled with the inevitability of a serious injury amongst the rocks where I was slipping, was enough to send me paddling. An ordeal getting through to the outside, unable to go in over the rocks and unable to get out through the thick walls of churning, ceaseless and uncaring whitewater. At last a few well-timed duckdives and luck conspired to pay off with a clear view of the lineup from my prone paddling position, and I sprinted for the daylight as best I could. It felt soo good to at last paddle over a green set peak just as it crested.

Robert never made it out. Got maybe five or so waves, thick and hungry ones rumbling over the reef. Pulled back from many more, including a couple of clean ones right at the start. If I had it to do over again I'd have gone, since the wind picked up quickly and made things even more difficult, even with the 7'2" under my feet.

Went in and watched for a while before reuniting with Robert. We moved on to try to find some rideable surf; Rincon was looking surprisingly small with only double overhead sets. Given what we saw I'd have expected triple-o at the 'con. But alas, the SE wind followed us down the coast and we wound up consoling ourselves with a meal at the Surf Dog stand on the Carp Bluffs.