Through the looking glass

It was an odd sensation to be out on Lake Michigan less than 24 hours after yesterday’s surf session. I took a buddy out from work. I sort of gave the impression that it would be calm. And then when we head out, what does he see, but 3-5 foot swell. Unbroken nonetheless. But swell.

We headed into the wind for about an hour. He did really well. He would slyly state the height of each swell as we crested it. Some times it was a mere 2 feet, other times… Well, sometimes I dissappeared completely on the back face of a wave, and other times he would be swallowed behind a swift moving wall of water. Luckily the wind was calm and it was warm, but a gun metal barrage of clouds headed towards shore on a fresh breeze.

Mainly: I grinned with a small sense of appreciation for how big the swells were. My stomach clenched tight as a fist as I heard foam skitter down the the trough like water tinkling down a steep staircase. Wondering if this would be the one to nuke him. None did.

It was decidedly more tense as we turned to head back downwind. A fact I was dreading. I gave what seemed feeble advice about low bracing as we headed down wind. We were brought back to the light house in very short order.

I have to say the first time I saw a steep crested face curl and grab the back of my friends boat, I wondered if he would feel that same sense of elation I feel, that wonderful sense of anticipation and freedom as your hull starts to plane down the face. Or would he only feel dread, fear, and then burning enmity for the asshole that brought him out on such a rough day for his first time.

Time will tell. All I can do is play Puck.

“Up and down, up and down,
I will lead them up and down:…”