I awoke on Tuesday morning with a twinge of anticipation. I had spent a good part of the workday the day before pouring over the wave models, buoy statistics and weather reports on the Internet. I knew there was going to be a good swell. Hopefully if the strong SE winds had died down like they were supposed to, it was going to be an epic clean day. I had ingeniously acted as if I felt a bit punk at the end of the day Monday, and left work a half hour early complaining of stomach pains. It was really butterflies in my anticipation to the day to follow.

I turned off the alarm and sprung into action. I immediately called work and left a pathetic sounding message on my boss’s answering machine explaining how I had spent the entire night before praying to the porcelain gods. It must have been something I ate. I then grabbed my gear and headed out the door. I loaded my trusty 9’6" quiver on the roof rack of my car and blazed down the street, my car already filled with gas for the hour trip it would take to arrive at the coast.

But upon calling my good friend, Leon, my partner in crime in our plan to play hooky from work and go surfing instead, I sensed a disheartening tone to his voice. Apparently the morning forecasters had called for the winds to rage at least 20 knots and maybe more. He said he wasn’t going. I immediately exited the freeway and took a U-turn as I headed back to the house, still on the cell phone with Leon. But somehow I talked him into going. I said if it was blown out, we could always drive to the other side of the jetties and hope it was cleaner there. I had already called in sick and had to miss the day anyway. Why not join me? He agreed and I took another U-turn and headed for his house.

Once on the road, with his trusty 7’8" funboard snuggly fastened next to mine, we noticed the wind was not blowing that hard. Five knots at the most as the flags we saw on our race to the coastline were barely wavering in the wind. Leon was starting to feel glad he had come, especially when we reached the apex of the bridge over the Intracoastal Canal and saw what awaited us. Massive waves were breaking three quarters of the way out of the jetties, which were a quarter of a mile long. It looked definitely like a day to jetty jump, and I was prepared with my split toe neoprene jetty socks. This was going to be fun.

We raced into the Jetty Park parking lot and saw that a few surfers had beaten us there, not to mention the disgusted fishermen who couldn’t fish in the turbulent sea. We exited my car and went to the balcony of the Park shop to get a better look at the mad sea. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what it was, a mad sea. The ocean looked fairly choppy and pretty angry, but we had come all this way and the wind was hardly a factor. We made the decision to go for it.

We walked down the jetty, quivers in tow, all the way past where the farthest waves were breaking. There is a science to jetty jumping and it is not for the novice or weak at heart. You have to edge yourself down on the granite rocks close to the water and wait for an onrushing swell to thrust yourself out into the sea. A wrong step or a mistimed jump can spell disaster in a barnacle flesh scraping or a dinged up board. We were both prolific at jetty jumping and made it out into the rolling sea quickly.

We both paddled parallel to the shoreline and reached a good point to sit on our boards and wait for a good set. And then it came. We both spun our boards around as we dipped well below the sea level as the approaching wave approached us and sucked us in. We turned towards shore and paddled into the approaching monster, both feeling the initial rush and popped up on our boards to make the steep drop. Leon went left and I went right as we both let out a hoot to join the hooting of the guy paddling back out towards us. We both had a nice ride and were paddling back towards the outside when the winds hit. Out of nowhere the wind started howling and it was tough just paddling out without getting blinded by the spray. It was time to call it quits for that short but sweet session.

Back in the parking lot we decided to head to the other side of the jetties, hoping that the south jetty would stop some of the chop and clean things up. If nothing else, it might give the wind some time to die down. It was about a thirty minute drive around to the other side, and when we were leaving the Jetty Park parking lot, we noticed that the channel in between the jetties looked like it was starting to line up and might even start breaking- something that rarely happened since the Army Corps of Engineers had dredged the ship channel deeper.

On the south side, we took a fruitless walk down the south jetty and realized that it was just as choppy on that side. A few other surfers had the same idea we had, and as we all walked back down the jetty we noticed that indeed, the channel had started breaking and there were even a few people out there surfing. We quickly decided to head back and try to surf the channel.

Once on the north side again, we noticed that the channel was really starting to pump and the waves were rolling in long lines clear from the end of the jetties. The wind was howling, roughing up the faces of the waves, but at least it was lined up. We jumped the jetty to the inside of the channel and immediately felt the incredible current pulling us in towards the Intracoastal Canal. The wind was blowing so hard that you could sit on your board and feel yourself get blown towards the middle of the channel. It was disheartening to paddle out and watch someone paddling next to you, and realize that neither one of you was even moving. But we pressed on and surfed some mighty huge waves for our neck of the woods. We would catch one, ride it all the way to the rocky beach, and then fight with the wind and our board to go jump off the jetty and do it again. We did this over and over until our arms were rubber. What a session. It was as if we were somewhere else.

On the ride home, listening to the radio, we suddenly realized something quite interesting. The storm we were fighting all day had actually surprised the forecasters and developed into the first tropical storm of the year, Tropical Storm Allison. Three days later, the storm returned to the Houston area and just sat there, causing the flood of the century for that part of SE Texas. Luckily, we had gotten to the coast at Surfside to enjoy the benefits of the first storm swell of the season. Wednesday was even better as the spin from Allison caused offshore winds and the Upper Gulf Coast of Texas (yes, Texas) enjoyed waves that were double overhead, clean, and fun, fun, fun.