My story post 54

My son ,Robin, started learning to surf when he was about six years old.

At first I’d take him out with me on my long board. Then he graduated to riding one of my short boards, which he didn’t like because he couldn’t get his arm around the thing so it was hard for him to carry. It bothered him enough that I made the width of his first surfboard the length of the inside of his arm… just to make sure he could get his arm around it.

When he was still a little guy I would worry about him in the water. Not when the surf was casual but when it got a little bet more serious for the kid. As the years progressed we became surf buddies.

This past week we had a pretty nice northwest swell so the two of us made plans to hit the surf together in the early afternoon Wednesday when the swell started to come on. We paddled out on the back side of the point and surfed our way down inside. The surf wasn’t really big, sets were a little over head but, the sets were strong with a good 8 waves or more.

After we were in the water for 20 minutes or so we both got caught inside… I hate getting caught inside. I was further out than Robin and that first wave of the set pounded me good enough to push me inside of Robin. We both ducked at least 2 more waves when Robin turned and looked back at me with a thumb up. I nod with a smile thinking he’s stoked that the surf is good and this is a great set… even though it’s giving us a lickin’.

I lost count of how many waves I had to push but eventually I was so beat I turned around and let some white water propel me to the beach… the first time ever. I thought I’d go in, catch my breath, wait for a lull and paddle back out.

After about 10 or 15 minutes I started walking up the point for another round when I saw Robin ride a wave way down inside and come in. I waited for him so we walked up the beach together and decided to head back to work.

As we were walking back to the van Robin asked if I was OK. Turns out he was worried that I might be in trouble because I got swept past him on that first wave and then couldn’t catch back up to him. He said ‘I don’t think that has ever happened before. That's why I gave the thumb up, I was asking if you were OK." I said “I was beat, how many waves were in that set anyway?”

As we walked up the beach another set started hitting the line up, so I started counting the waves... 14. “No wonder, I bet there were at least 10 waves in the set that picked us off.”

After I dropped him off at the FCD shop he went in to boast how he out paddled his Dad. Geez, his 33’d birthday was this past September. My 63’d birthday is next month!

Funny though, I worried about him, now he worries about me.

D.R.