The sets that morning weren't huge (head high to 1.5x overhead), but sooooo consistent that I couldn't even make it out the first go around. I jumped in way up the point around the corner in this photo, but quickly got sucked down to the pier beyond the left margin on this photo in under 8 minutes. Cold water to boot equating to nice cream headaches trying to duck dive under these 85 wave sets. After hiking back up the point and finally making it out the back between sets, the bottom dropped out on me on one of the sets. I cartwheeled under water and made contact with someone way inside. Wasn't even near the guy when I fell, but like two coconuts destined to collide, we found each other down in the blackness. After exchanging pleasantries after both coming up, we both paddled away. I was beat and went in. Something just didn't feel right, but I didn't realize what had happened until I looked down and noticed a trail of blood following me up the beach. I traced it to a large dangling flap of skin severed from my left heel. You know that feeling or realization that your body has been rendered helpless. That feeling when you know that the severity of what's just happened will obligate hospital time...
I hate that feeling.
Photo sure looks great though..
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