The indicator wasn't working at all, with the peaks swinging wide into the rivermouth and sectioning off fast or vanishing after the big drop. Some guys out on big boards, and some out on 6' thrusters. Most of us were on semiguns and a few standouts were really performing, getting barrelled through the rivermouth and blowing spray out the back of the wave right as it began to pitch.

By chance I found Toby out there, we hung together in the middle of the rivermouth pack and got a few waves. I picked off one of the bigger sets that swung wide, all the way to the harrowing shoredump atop the cove. The last I saw of Toby until the afternoon was a big gliding drop into one of the bigger set bombs of the day.

After about three hours my last rivermouth bomb took me far enough inside the shorepound atop the cove that I was in the inside cove lineup by the time I paddled out. It was like a totally different swell. Clean lines jacking up far outside and walling, walling, walling. Started off with my usual strategy: sit inside and get waves. It didn't work. Too many people and too many poundings. Never recovered from one 15+ ft face that we saw coming at least 30 seconds in advance. Paddled and paddled outside and still caught way deep, bailed for the bottom but couldn't swim deep enough. The rest of the set shoved me through most of the cove.

Then paddled out wide, way wide, but I still got picked off by another large set swinging well around the point. Damn it! Starting to lose my arms, I paddled out again, this time even wider. Got out there and settled in with the pack, a bit outside and wide on the point, and that's when the best wave of my life rolled in.

Easy double overhead drop and free carves down the line. Lots of sand on the inside which in a normal season is scoured away. This turned the normal fast and superfun inside section into a fast and heaving green-brown barrel. Saw the section setting up and bottom turned up into the pocket, set the rail, and let it happen. Watched the lip heave over my head, then just off to the side, and then out in front of me. Drove with my legs, running on pure stoke, adrenaline, and fumes, to make it out past an approaching closeout and over the back. I couldn't believe it. Hooted until I was so out of breath that I could barely handle the next seven or ten waves dumping on me while I was being dragged off to La Conchita.

Somehow managed to get back outside and a bunch of other good waves, though not quite like that first one. The key was taking off on the big waves, as the small ones were very crowded. Up around double overhead, not nearly as many people were fighting for them. And then I found myself caught inside again, with another set swinging wide. Barely able to paddle, I limped as hard as I could wide and outside, and somehow, made it to the shoulder. And nobody was on it! Hell, I am! Used the last little bit of my arms to worm my way into the beast and off to the freeway again. Bigger still than the last wave I got, but this time I raced the inside section rather than pulling in. Finished the wave well down by the rocks that pop up out of the water, past the call box and storm drain.

Staggered onto the beach with a grin, and then paid my respects to the Queen of the Coast by dragging a shopping cart off the riprap and dumping it up by the trash bin. I sure am glad I grudgingly paddled out this morning. Thanks, Mama Rincon!