Surf-Windsurf Biathlon

 
 

Mystical lines start early at Robert Moses State Park. Atmospheric, traffic, railings, lightpoles,
antennae, swell lines, and especially line-ups
photo: phil gray

 
 

Hit the road at 7:30 Am for Robert Moses, driving by someone who looked remarkably like Stan who was taking a morning run in the opposite direction, on the road near Bar Beach.

RM was packed with surfers, and big-ass waves. 3 hrs of alternating beatup sets and bliss in shoulder to 1ft overhead surf and strong longshore current. The paddle outs were exhausting as the period was officially about 5 seconds (more like 2 and a half seconds!) RM5 is always bigger than the inlet for some reason.

Frank and I left trashed but happy at about 11:30 AM. Thanks again Frank for helping with the motivation -- it was A LOT easier to take on with company than alone.


Crash Messina Takes a break behind the lines - while the waves display their seductively curved backs.
Photo: Phil Gray

Crossing the Bridge for home revealed dark windgusts strafing the water. Uh oh, the tell-tale signs of a thermal brewing here, on what was supposed to be a relaxing windless afternoon. Saw Stan again, crossing the bridge, once again in the other direction this time with loaded roofracks. Well at least it wasn't going to be a jogging only day for Stan.


 


Mike Burns preparing the one-handed Vulcan's for the King Of the Cape Freestyle Competition (June 7, 2002) in which he placed solidly in the Pro Division
Photo Phil Gray
 

The wind had yet to really arrive at Heck, and did a 6.5 - 5.5 tease routine for a little while. Briefly got to meet George and George Jr., but didn't get to meet Jill as pretty soon the windline hit the shore and the next thing we knew, Jill she was hauling-a** on a 5.0 --far to fast to be stopped. Not sure whether George got any sailing in that day?

The post surf body was aching - triceps were groaning and the legs had become inseparably stiff. Dehydration well under way, no water left water and the morning's bagel wasn't fuelling anything anymore.


Same Mike, vulcanizing the one-hand landing.
Photo Phil Gray

It took a trip to Salvia's Deli for an Italian hero and a few gatorades to replenish. By the time I got back it was well into the 5.0 - 5.5 range, and increasing faster than you could re-rig or change fins. There were brief thoughts of Cedar, but the body was way beyond capable of the Sand March Enduro. Besides the 5.2 was now way too big and the 4.5 on the small waveboard was a tough combination to drop. The Swell on the outside and the extra-cranking wind out there to the northeast of the red buoy was producing some delightful waist-high wavelets in places.



 


F-Man Rob, caught for one in a very rare, regular jibe - no monkey, no duck, no bizarre variation - oh wait a minute maybe he did a pirouette.
Photo: phil gray

 
 

They are a ways out but worth the trip and the ramps out there make for some nice floaty airs. Mike Burns and Ken Tiu (on a 4.1) were Vulcanizing and Spockitating all over the place, Mike trying to give lessons to a determined newie in between reaches, and Heck was chalking up yet another unprecedentedly, unpredictable, thrusting thermal. Finally called it a day when it got a little too holy for the 4.5..and hit the road for home about 7:30 PM. 12 hrs after starting out. Oh man, am I in trouble now!! That may be the last biathlon for me for a while.



Two for the price of one, messy wake that is. Mike Burns (US 8x8) and Ken Tiu take their North Sails through their paces -- the whole day long.
Photo: Phil Gray


 




CHUNKY BEER


Like the infamous New York lottery commercial, sometimes the waves are just gray and chunky
OK, so they are usually chunky. Bring your own stout.


Frank glides in out on the knees on a strong but soupy day.