Two sessions: one a golden sunset with nice waves the ideal version of surfer heaven, and two the constant attack of sea lice stings interspersed with mush-hopping session only to end with the white-heat pain of a stingray love tap.
Last night I dragged the log out to the north coast fully expecting some small but nice waves. I brought along the chipper only because I’d just received in the mail a set of H2 replacements for the ones that were nicked along with my old chipper, last fall, down south. I was pleasantly surprised to find some decent swell pushing into my favorite right point break, the hollow, ledgy one. I spent the sunset sliding my brains out on chest-high, hollow rollers with the new fin setup pushing me down the line.
It was another beautiful Mexican summer sunset, no clouds to be seen at all, just color gradients galore. Photoshop: you ain’t got nuttin on mutha nature. The light was perfect and the waves juicy. It was one of the best, mellow, wicked sessions I’ve had in a long time. Not for the quantity of waves, nor for the sheer ripability, rather just for the combo of solid, beautiful waves and unreal scenery. I was in my version of heaven.
I caught a large set wave in, almost catching a millisecond of tube time or at least a quickie head duck. As I exited the waning wave, I caught two ‘malaguas’ to the face, I was unperturbed with the stoke-juice running through my veins. I paddled in, vowing to return in the morning, hoping for a sublime repeat.
This morning, I slogged my face out of bed at 7am. Kissed my girl and the boy, jumbled into the car and headed back out for Round Two. As I swam toward a nearly empty lineup I got hit by several malaguas. By the time I made it out to the break, I had several groupings of malagua stings on my arms and neck. I shrugged it off. Yesterday’s glory not to be repeated, the sets were much smaller and more ‘aguada’, with an occasionally nice small, not very maneuverable ride. I tried to enjoy it regardless. After each wave, I knew I’d be swimming through a minefield of malaguas and each time I made it back to the lineup I was itching myself like a monkey with a severe case of lice. I counted thirty stings on my left arm alone. I toughed it out for an hour or so and finally caught a mush-hopper and headed in.
I picked my board up in the knee deep, sand-strewn shore break and brought my left foot down on the sand only to feel a lightning bolt of blistering pain hit the back of my heel, just above the callused part. I limped out of the water, cursing and yelling. My foot was bleeding steadily. It was a small stingray sting and the wound radiated with pulsating white-heat burning sensation. I tried my best to shrug off and joke with the two other guys from the lineup. I grabbed my gear and huffed it down the beach. I had a kilometer long walk back to the car to get through. As I made my way down the beach I could feel the pain starting to radiate out into my foot and leg. I was having visions of poison tracking its way up my leg. By the time I was half-way down the beach my left hip joint was aching, it was getting harder to walk. I encountered my friend Jorge on the jungle road. I feebly recounted the story in cold sweat, slurring my words in a detached fit of lightheadedness hidden behind polarized sunglasses. He looked at my strangely and asked me if I needed help, I faintly declined, waved him off and kept going. When I finally got to the car the lightheadedness was gone. I cranked the a/c and waited for five minutes or so, just to be on the safe side.
Back at home I took a cold shower and surveyed the carnage. There were malagua stings all over my torso, upper body, neck and arms. I stopped counting at around 100. My hip no longer hurt and the radius of the pain was limited to the sting area, but the pulsating sting still felt fresh and undeterred. I showed Marcia the bites and sting and we were off to the local doctor, the one who prescribes antibiotics like now-n-laters. The Doc looked at the bites and frowned, suck it up was the general gist. The sting was a different story. He cleaned the wound and injected painkiller into the cut area and tried to prescribe me a very expensive antibiotic which I declined to fill.
Two sessions: one heaven and one hell.
Incidentally, I’m still not sure what hit me. I’m thinking it was a ray, as I read that skates dont sting. And the feeling I got in my hip joint definitely wasn’t psychosomatic. But when I talked to him about the stingray poison. He shrugged it off, saying that skates don’t have poison and the sting from a ray would be much more powerful. Who’s got the real info?
