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I waited for the set to pass and then swam slowly back to the beach. There I recollected my board. On closer inspection of the leash I saw that it had been pretty worn down already. No wonder it broke. And good that I didnīt paddle out at the point with this leash. Had it broken out there I would have been in much more trouble. But I was pissed nevertheless. I hadnīt caught a wave in my 10 minutes “session” and was not ready to quit now.
For a moment, I pondered to paddle out again without leash, but the combination of minor physical fitness and cold temperatures did not appear suitable circumstances for a leash-less session. As I had come by foot I could not even go back to a car to get some money and buy a new leash at the surf shop at the centre of the bay. Very frustrated I started my walk back to the hill. But as I passed the road a car stopped and somebody was greeting me. Turned out it was Mike, my host who had just finished his session at the bay.
When he learned about my broken leash he took his and gave it to me. The guy was really becoming my guardian angel. So, I could paddle back out and have my session and the day was saved.
I returned to the hostel in the late afternoon, packed my stuff and drove to Manchester where I arrived in the early evening.
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