A Good Day, A Comp Day
I declare a comp day, and it's a good choice. A brisk morning and waist-high waves are on tap at State Park in San Clemente, the water cold and clear and blue. I get a few fun ones, the peak to myself, not another soul in shouting distance.
But down the coast I can see whitewater at Cotton's Point, San Clemente's southern vanishing point. I paddle down, alternating between arms and legs, counting my strokes: "One and one and two and two and three and three ..." So it goes to 100, then I switch to kicking until my arms stop burning. "One and one and two and two ..." The pattern repeats.
Years ago, Cotton's was for short time the spot of choice. Junior year of high school, red ten-speed bike with racks, Jason Daniel with his purple BC tucked under his arm, and Cotton's was the daily destination.
This morning, pelicans sweep by as I near the lineup, silent. There's a sharp crack as the first wave of the set fills in; waist high, maybe shoulder -- all fun. My new board's okay and I'm alone with my thoughts and the peak. Later, peeled wetsuit down off my shoulders, I walk back to the car, sunshine warming my shoulder blades. Lunch at Senor Pedros. A long hot shower at home. A few hours on the computer, and then off to Terramar for a sunset stroll.
It was a good day.
Terramar.
The beach at Terramar.
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