Southbound and Back Again: Gambling with Texas Swells
On a Thursday in September, I was browsing the surf reports when my eyes lit up with excitement. Head-high waves were scouting the gulf beaches for Tropical Storm Beta, which would make landfall days later. I spent all summer waiting for storm season. This was my chance.
They say if you can surf Texas, you can surf anywhere. Weak, closeout waves break over sandbars most of the year, unless you drive toward the beach during hurricane season.
The warning flag is always a good sign before a surf, but strong currents and no beach to drive on makes this a dangerous situation for the average beach-goer.
Even with perfect conditions, the tide can change. My brother Reid, who had spent eight months surfing in the Canaries, carried his 6’1” JS shortboard to the water with me and my 7’6” CI Waterhog in tow. The water was so high, there was no room for parking on the beach. Those that braved the tide got stuck, 4x4 or not.
My good friend Reggie with my board under his arm, coming back from his first ever surf sesh with Bob Hall Pier in the background. As a photographer, you sometimes have to let others have all the fun.
Our excitement faltered when beach patrol warned that the southbound current was so strong, it wasn’t worth paddling out.
“You’ll be at the pier in ten minutes if you paddle out here,” he said, pointing at our target, Bob Hall Pier, a quarter mile down the beach.
Reid pushes the board down with his knee to duck dive, a common way to avoid the full force of a crashing wave.
Even if the rip-tide, currents and wind do not deter you, you still have to paddle out. Unlike the reef breaks of the West Coast, there is no real way to paddle around sandbars. This means you are forced to either duckdive every 10 seconds or get hit with infinite crashing waves.
After zapping all my energy just to get out, I accepted the reality of this being one of the worst surfing days I had ever experienced. As the current pulled me down the beach, I sat with my board wedged between my legs and my neck craning over the sloppily shaped green waves. I seldom saw waves worth paddling for, and when I did, they were too far away.
A couple of nasal flushes later, I glided toward shore to catch a beach break before hanging it up.
So what do you do when you drive three hours, spend $60 on gas and the waves still suck?
Change boards!
A skimboard is basically a piece of plywood you throw on water that often seems too shallow. Sometimes, it is.
Even though skimboarding is not the same, it can be a good way to kill time and hone your balance while you wait for the wind to shift.
After pestering Reid for one more go at the tumultuous water, he relented, grabbed his board and ran into the foam. Twenty minutes of watching him drift down the beach paid off in capturing the only real ride of the day.
Had we stayed until the next morning, the ocean might’ve changed its mind and given us a perfect day, but infinite homework needed my attention in Austin.
Even if I pushed some meaningless busy work out of the way, I needed this. When all of us students spend so much time in front of our computers every day, it’s crucial we get out into the sun and into nature; it reconnects us to the real world and takes our minds off those Monday morning Zoom calls.
Walking from your car with a surfboard attached to your ankle is a sure way to get labeled a kook. It is a surfing faux pas to leash up before being in the water.
Photos by Rushton Skinner