After weeks of flat, I knew today everybody would be out en masse to any of the point breaks that would take the South swell. I drove to Sunset with my Cooperfish Hornet, repaired, unwaxed, and saw 100 people sitting and waiting at 6:30. No thank you. I'd rather take my chances with close-outs at a beach break.
I ended up at the Pier and it was pretty much as Uncle Grant said (sans yesterday's Catholic guilt). But it was better than OP and I just liked the look of waves higher than my knee.
It took a thousand years to wax my newly repaired board, and I ran out of wax. But there was no way I was getting up to the nose anyhow. I paddled out.
Man, did I stink!
After actually starting to figure out Sensei J's huge-ass board, I was all wrong on my own board. I didn't even know how far forward or back on the board I was supposed to be when paddling out. Then, first wave, one with an actual shoulder... I friggin' kooked out and pearled. PEARLED! When's the last time I did THAT?
I figured out that I'd been shifting all my weight forward when paddling for a wave on the log so as to gain enough momentum to get in the wave. I didn't have to throw my whole body into it on my board. Fixed.
On a left, I was so far back on the tail that when I moved to turn it off the top, the board swung wildly out of the water. Obviously, my body expected to haul 35 pounds of log. I didn't have to do that either. Fixed.
I caught a few decent rides after those initial disasters. Still, though, not quite dialed back into my board. I guess I shouldn't have expected a homecoming with open arms.