Ahhhhhh yes, there’s really nothing quite like a mid-winter hate sesh at the Rock.
Ahhhhhh yes, there’s really nothing quite like a mid-winter hate sesh at the Rock.
... he’d rather not sail at the Rock, I seem to find myself sailing there more and more these days. What, with a rather shocking eighteen days last year, and now I’ve already sailed there twice in March. (And all you Rockers, you’ll be stoked to know there’s a lot of sand there right now. The driftwood is not bad at all and there’s even a big ass bleacher set up in the middle of the beach that just might be there for the season -- as it seems we may not be getting any more storms significant enough to move it.)
So as if hating the wind direction at the Rock wasn’t bad enough, it was the coldest day of the year so far. I know the crew back east would be howling at my whimpy complaint but hey, my fingers were still tender the next day. Woe was me.
However, there is further proof of my rather impressive whimpage. For I thought I might elicit some sympathy for our sacrifice by looking it up on a windchill chart, only to discover the temperature side of the chart only goes up to 40 degrees. So the windchill is not a factor at 50? But then how come everybody I’ve talked to that rode Sunday was hurting? Whimps one and all? Yes. And we better not complain as it sure beats trying to get sesh back east right now.
And sure we need the rain. Not to mention how under storm-sailed I feel. But all the sunny high pressures from that rather persistent ridge sure does make for epic project weather. And I’ve still got thirty-five days sailing already this winter. Just not as much port tack as I’m used to.
I know. I could always moan about the ocean dropping a couple degrees too. To what. 54 degrees? Still quite pleasant by the local standards. But we really have been getting spoiled with ocean temps in the high fifties since last summer. All good though. Astoundingly good. So good I have to wonder how it could go on being this good.
For someone who claims ...
3/4/15
This last Sunday was certainly not my finest day. And I probably should have just taken the day off to recover after not only washing about 45 dogs the day before -- but then going skatesailing for the consolation sesh after chasing a dying wind at the jetty. Yeah, I was thrashed. And it really was legitimate mitt weather out there. My hands got cold right off. Then I hit my shin again kooking out on the sandbar inside. Yeah, I was in misery. Not to mention that I was reduced to sailing it onshore at the Rock. While it may well be the height of poor form to even think about complaining about any windsurfing we get, this really was feeling like an all time hate sesh to me at the time. Just felt like I was flailing, missing, blowing, ....
So here’s my only loop this day and not surprisingly, I exploded on the landing as I lost my front hand grip (it was so numb). Man I wish I had come in to reset this day. And I really should have been better prepared -- for I could have sailed there a lot longer or rallied some Cape late.
I’d like to think I learned from it though and I’ve been formulating some strategies to put in place. One being to find a shin guard I can fit under my suit. Another is to be far better prepared all ways.
On the gear front, I’m loving a fin I just reshaped and foiled for the 92. Getting to test it in onshore conditions was one of the more redeeming features of the last couple rock sessions. And the scorpion mount is done. Some seats I found in a junkyard up in Eugene just went in the van for a huge upgrade. Did some rust treatment on the floor while I was at it and I even have some ultra cool seat covers coming around for them that I’m recycling from an old DaKine gear bag.
Now I just need to work out a couple mechanical issues and make some time to buff some of the isms and stickers to have her ready for high season on the Oregon Coast and the Gorge.
Bring it.
The Cape was flat even by summer standards. Town was posting some iffy wind observations and most the crew was posting up at the Rock this day. So in spite of what a wreck I was, it was time to rally some stoke and make an appearance. Rigged 5.3 on the 92 thinking I’d be perfect, but then I proceeded to blow a double wave jump on my first run by slamming into the landing ramp. Not an auspicious entrance for sure. Would have been far better to stick something on the way out, carve onto an outside set and sweep it clean.
Not to be though. And I was well into my sesh before I even started to make turns, much less throw spray. The hands were screaming at me the whole time. (Where were my damn mitts?) And why was I wearing my older, suddenly rather leaky suit? Kook move. Then everybody left. At first, I was thinking how ironic it was that the crew I’d come to the Rock with had all bailed to go sail the Cape or at the jetty. But with the drive back to PDX looming, turns out they’d headed home instead. So maybe I wasn’t the only one having a tough day out there.
Large gratitude out to Tigi for shooting these photos. It’s interesting to me that they make it seem fun in spite of how much I was hating it at the time. Hating the pain. Hating my lack of confidence, poor preparation and a couple bad decisions.
But it’s true. Even a hate sesh at the Rock is still windsurfing. And it did, as it usually does, have its moments of groove and clarity.
So it would be poor form indeed to be anything less than totally stoked -- in spite of how unworthy I was feeling out there and the beating I took from my trainer over my performance.
And here’s the after-sesh scene at the Rock Monday evening. More 5.3. Better groove. And thankfully, far less personal misery. While I’m being thankful, much of that to Tigi for taking time out to shoot all the action shots Sunday, in spite of what a wreck I was.
With respect and gratitude. ___________________\_
Yeah, it was a super low afternoon tide with the full moon coming on. I have to think it would have been better for kiting than windsurfing. But I think the spot favors kiting most of the time anyway.