The fog was thick. The kind of fog that makes amateur photographers squeal with delight as it rolls through the Golden Gate Bridge. The pea soup-like mist that muffled the sound of Jack the Ripper’s footsteps. There’s nothing inherently good or bad about it, but fog is foe when you want to go surprise-free surfing.
Feet in the sand, I looked out at the gray air and water, one indistinguishable from the other. My wetsuit put up extra resistance as I shoved my arms through the sleeves. The Velcro of my leash’s ankle strap made a prickling noise as a hundreds of tiny hooks snapped free from tiny loops.
There are some people that aren’t bothered by fog. They’ll say, “You can’t see the waves from the shore, so you just have to find out what they’re like when you get out there.” This is one of the ways surfing teaches flexibility and adaptability. You can’t always see what’s ahead. Or what’s about to land on your head. And so on.
There were lots of sets coming through and I couldn’t paddle out to the lineup so I gave up for a while and sat on the sand. Someone else came in, carrying two halves of his unlucky board, white foam protruding from shiny black. He was smiling in disbelief and muttering about how it could possibly have happened. Then someone chided me for sitting out on the sand so I went back out; also, my hands were starting to turn purple in the air.
I was in the line up almost instantly, inadvertently taking advantage of a rip tide. It gave me the impression that the conditions had mellowed, explaining why it was so easy. I glided up next to Ben, who looked amused to see me. I paddled over a cresting five-foot wave and then another, unsure what to do next. I knew I couldn’t leave the same way I came. Taking one in didn’t seem like a possibility, but pointing myself toward the shore and paddling wasn’t the most appealing option either.
I raced over a wave that felt determined to suck me over the falls. As it passed, the sky started to brighten and the water flattened out. I sat up on my board and scanned the horizon which was now a visible line. There had been several surfers around but now it was as if they’d evaporated with the fog. Looking over my shoulder, the shore was disconcertingly far away.