We stand at the top of the cliff looking down at our non-super secret location. I have seen this view many times, but it's been 13 years since I have seen this view with the intention of surfing here.
My husband brought his stand-up paddleboard and I brought my surfboard. "It's a lake," he announces. "Yeah it is, but never underestimate my ability to catch a cheater wave," I said, smiling at him. He knows my confidence is overstated because it truly looks like a lake and we have yet to see any white water that can be surfed. "Let's do this," I said, knowing I have a better chance catching a cold than a wave.
I grab some board wax and begin to apply it to the sweet spot on my surfboard. Then I work some onto the rails and on the nose of my board. My husband laughs, "Way up there, huh?" he said, making reference to my application of wax to the very front of my board. "Hey, what if I catch a perfect little wave and decide to ride toes on the nose? I need to be prepared."
At first glance on the hike down, everything looks the same. Except for one thing: The kelp beds are overgrown.
Some people find the kelp annoying, and sure, it can be when your leash is caught, or slows you down as you paddle out. But for me, the kelp is a pleasant reminder that there is life here.
Ever the planner, I discover that I have not thought of everything. I didn't bring my booties and this is a place where booties are essential. I take my chances with my bare feet. I slowly and cautiously walk over loose rocks of all shapes and sizes until the water is deep enough for me to hop on my board.
The paddle out is long and I definitely feel my arms getting fatigued. My leash is caught in the kelp and is causing some drag, but I power through.
I paddle by my husband, who informs me that my leash is broken. The strap is still attached to my ankle, but the cord is no longer attached to the strap. Well, that explains how I suddenly got through the kelp with ease.
Now I have something to worry about: Wiping out and possibly hitting someone with my wayward board (mainly my husband) or having my board wash ashore and get damaged on the rocks. Neither scenario is good, but I won't let that stop me. I will be extra careful.
We are alone in the line-up therefore my only competition for a wave is my husband. He selflessly lets me take what I want.
I see a set coming so I turn myself around and begin to paddle. As much as I feel like I have this one, the wave never forms. As it turns out, there is such a thing as too small when it comes to waves.
But I am stubborn and I decide to try again on the next set. Once again I have a similar result. My husband, on the other hand, uses his paddle and effortlessly catches the smallest of waves. Sweepers, they can catch anything.
A slight ocean breeze chills my skin and I love the contrast of the warmth from the sun. Most couples on a date sit across from each other. We are side by side in the ocean and I can't imagine being happier at this moment.
As I look across a kelp bed I see we have company. "Hey, look over there," I call to my husband. "Shark bait," we say in unison, laughing. The seal's shinny little head pokes out of the kelp just feet away from us. He watches us as intently as we watch him.
"Shark Bait," as we have affectionately named him, hangs out with us, going from kelp bed to kelp bed, watching me paddle into waves that literally reform under my board and never come to fruition.
Instead of worrying about what I do or don't catch, I relax and enjoy myself. I'm on a date.
In the end, the day wasn't a loss. I did try my husband's stand-up paddleboard, and I made a friend. I had a great time.
And I know we'll go out again.
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