“Plug” for short
A daisy chain reaction of mishap
I went to Montauk with my surfer girl gang on a biggish summer windswell. It was epic, so much that I missed my ferry back to Rhode Island. And the next one. Then there was only one left, and I barely made that one because I had to take two other ferries to get there. My best leash fell out of my car at the first spot check. We went in at the second spot, despite some hesitation from the rest of the gang. The paddle out was intimidating but it was firing and not crowded. I reminded them the rule. One must never leave waves for waves lest one find the conditions of the second spot less agreeable than that of the first, then end up back at the first just in time for the wind to switch.
I used my backup leash. A handmade number by a guy in the Northwest, who is possibly my first and only sponsor. I was hoping to go back and grab my good leash at some point but the day got away from me. The waves were big but soft and forgiving with a nice slopey drop. Getting in and out was the scary part. Large ship-sinking rocks protruding in the lineup and loose boulders rolling around in the shorepound. One of the girls sprained her toe. Another dinged her board. The crowd was very friendly if not taken aback that we were all there. We found out later that it’s considered an advanced break.
The wind switched so we went back to the first spot. There were some famous surfers in town for a contest and they all ended up at the same spot. I got to chatting to one of their crew instead of looking for my missing leash before making the mad dash to the ferry in time for the last departure at sunset. Mourning my lost leash
There was another big swell a few weeks later