He was also left like a sitting duck for the following wave to grab his gear and smash it onto the awaiting reef. His only sail gone, he was left to sit on the boat and watch painfully again. With only one or two surfers in the line-up, Jason and I had it pretty much to ourselves. We slowly figured out that it was the inside ones that were the joy, with some long, lined-up glassy walls. But things were about to turn pear-shaped once again. I was out on the peak and about to gybe onto a wave, but pulled out at the last minute as it became a little critical. In hindsight I should’ve gone. For behind it was a bigger one, where I just managed to get over the lip but the updraft was brutal, exploding me over the lip with arms and legs flailing.