A surfer at sunset in the fall may seem like a metaphor for the end of summer, but it was really just a good ride.

Perfection is unlikely, but we can keep trying

Apparently, I’ve forgotten how to surf.

It’s a very frustrating situation. I got up early, put on a soggy wetsuit in the cold, hit the beach and floated around for an hour, drifting south faster than I could paddle north.

I could see waves and I could remember the process involved in catching them – I just couldn’t seem to carry it out.

It’s funny how rarely things turn out the way you expect.

That’s life.

We start out with an idea, maybe we daydream about the best possible results, and sometimes that’s all we manage. Sometimes we act on those ideas and try to work out a plan to bring that ideal to reality. Then we get to work.

That’s when we find out how good the plan was. The waves might have looked fine from the beach, but now one is looming overhead, casting a shadow from the early sun behind it, and it suddenly becomes clear that the smooth, perfect takeoff you envisioned while standing on the sand instead will be realized with a tumble over the falls.

Take this column for instance. Not that I think it was a wipeout. There were some good interviews, a chance to take some surf photos, and an excuse to talk waves with some very good surfers. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be.

Time worked against me, which can’t be much of a surprise for the summer at the shore. Everybody who works down here knows the drill – work gets way busier, friends and family are at the door, and you have to struggle to find time to enjoy the beach yourself. Your plan to hit every break in the county gets shelved for a week, then a month. You get in when you can, and sometimes you find the time to point a camera at someone else surfing. Maybe there’s a chance for an interview or two.

One surprise: Several of the surfers I thought would be great subjects really weren’t all that interested in being profiled. Either the scheduling didn’t work out, or they just didn’t want their names in print. That, plus the tyranny of deadlines meant I ended up writing much more about my own experiences than I intended.

Somehow, that all added up to a summer, and then some. Here we are, with the last edition for 2011, and the editor is waiting for a surf column on yet another deadline morning.

Wasn’t it last week that the weather was in the 100s, with your wax dripping off the board and your feet blistering in the sand? This morning, the sand pulled the heat from my toes faster than the water.

Weren’t the days getting longer the day before that? When you could get out of the water at 7 a.m. after a nice long session, and still have plenty of time for breakfast before work? There was time after work as well, even when you worked late.

It’s October, and everything’s different. A full wetsuit, if you want more than a few minutes in, and the sun goes down quick.

On Wednesday evening, the waves looked clean and inviting. One surfer, Eli, said they were a little tough without a longboard. Eli didn’t want to give his last name, but he and another surfer were taking rides off a jetty break on the boardwalk in Ocean City.

It was one of the few spots with a rideable break, and they weren’t going to let a little thing like sundown push them out of the water too soon.

The beach and boardwalk weren’t empty. It was the middle of the week in the fall, but it was also a clear, lovely night, and there were a few people strolling the beach, bundled in fleece and wool. A few more were on the boardwalk.

As a set rolled in, Eli charged for the wave. The other surfer, when he got one, would let loose a whoop of delight.

The next morning, in the south end of Ocean City, the waves seemed bigger and less organized, and I think some of my bravery leached away in the cold water. I could see that some of the waves had a nice line, but when they’d roll in, it seemed like they would all slam shut, leaving me with no where to go but down. Meanwhile, I was fighting the current and still moving about a half block south every time I took a break.

Eventually I gave up to come in and write this, discouraged and muscle sore. If it were anyone else, I’d play the cheerleader. I’d say that a bad session isn’t the end of the world, that there is still time to get in this year, and years of surfing to come. No one gets an infinite amount of summers, but I’m expecting a few more at least.

Besides, I’ve got a full suit and warm booties, and all fall to try again. Maybe by next summer I’ll have the hang of this.

There were not many surfers in the water off the Ocean City Boardwalk on Wednesday evening, but there were some rides to be had.

A surfer catches a ride near the rocks. He said he had just gotten the wetsuit, which at this point is becoming necessary gear.

Don’t hang up your board just yet, there are a lot more rides to come before the water gets icy.