Before I tell this story, I have to make it clear that my internal thermometer is busted. Nobody on the beach for miles was in the water today, it was absolutely freezing. I'm always the nut who will go swimming when it's brain freeze cold in the water. Today was no different. At first I went in maybe 10 minutes at a time, catching a few good waves with my boogie board (I think I cleared this up earlier, but I'd like to reiterate, I can't surf for shit). Then I'd come out, warm up in the sun for a while, then go in again. The last time I went in, I waited a good long while for any good waves to come. I was wading in the water for about 20 minutes, but the water was really calm, and I couldn't catch a ride back to shore. During this time, I hadn't really notice how far I drifted out to sea... pretty damn far. Now it was starting to get really windy and cold. I started breathing really heavily, I was just miserably cold out there. It didn't help when I got a few mouthfuls of ocean water. It got to the point where I was getting a little bit scared. The current wasn't too strong, but I was numb as hell, and needed to get back to shore. Now for anyone that doesn't surf or boogie board, the best time to catch a wave is right when it's about to break. Too early, and you won't catch it. Too late, and the wave will pound you into the sand. After what seemed like chucklefucking forever, a decent wave finally came. Unfortunately, I misjudged it, and it broke too early. Trying to ride a big wave that's already broken is like trying to jump on a moving horse. I got swallowed up, but damn luckily spit out by this monster thing. I actually came out facing the right way, and I rode it most of the way back to shore. I staggered out of the water, wrapped myself in my towel, and shivered violently for a good 20 minutes. I felt numb and sick until I took a hot shower when I got back. I don't worry too often about swimming alone, because I'm a strong swimmer. Today, however, jilted me a little.
Can't wait to do it again tomorrow.
On a stranger note, my dad caught this two foot long forty pound bass while fishing in the evening. Guess what's for dinner tomorrow? I hauled that bastard back to the house... he put up a good fight even after he died. I have to say, I'm a little weirded out by eating something that we caught. The poor bastard was apparently too tired to swim back out when we tried to let it go, so the decision was to give it a proper burial... in our stomachs. I salute you, you big ass bass. You shall not have died without honor. Or olive oil & salt, as well.
You can't get this kind of shit in the suburbs. This is why I have to work down here, live down here. I belong here. Tomorrow, I look for more jobs, eat more good food, do more fun shit and relax on that gorgeous sand. Be back in Monty tomorrow night. Sadness ensues.
hahaha...you big ass bass!
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