Searching for a barrel

I awoke early this morning to a beautiful blue sky and no wind. Praying that some of the swell of the past two days would still be around, I drove with my buddies Andy and Jamie up to Dee Why. Paddling out in the turquoise glass it was obvious that it we were in the midst of a special day. By far the best day we’d had in two months.

Midway through the session I stroked into one of the sets of the day. I got into the wave early, set my rail on the vertical wall and pulled into a super clean barrel. The tube was completely makeable. It felt like I was deep in the bowels of the wave, but in reality I was in the perfect spot. Almost instantaneously after being covered by the cascading lip I heard the noise suck out of the hollow vacuum. The visual was even more lustrous; peering out of the open cavern I could see the light refracting through the liquid curtain. But, it was all over before it began. Before I knew it my board had slid out from under me, (How? Yeah, I wish I knew how!) and I found myself screaming underwater as the wave picked me up and recycled me over the falls.

Yes, I had some fun waves during the session, and I realize I am lucky to have even been in the water during a weekday, but this turn of events was extremely dispiriting. I have been in countless tubes now, and I have yet to make it out of one. Something always seems to happen to prevent me from exiting one of these glorious anomalies. I am starting to suspect that I am cursed in the barrel. Somehow my desire, this unending quest to taste the elixir of perfect aquatic Zen has conspired to jinx me in my endeavor.

Truly, God delivered me a perfect wave. Flawless, hollow, not too big but certainly round and inviting, and I did my usual, incompetent dance, spoiling an absolute gift.

Regardless, I will soldier on, quietly confident that one day I will bask in glory as I exit my first barrel.