2FTCHOP

I saw this license plate a few weeks ago and it reaffirmed something for me. You see, 2-foot chop refers to something that South Carolina surfers deal with on a regular basis.

I couldn't have been more stoked to move and live near an ocean. The prospect of spending the day at the beach, surfing and baking like a Rock Lobster, had appealed to me since being introduced to it by my brother-in-law years ago. I envisioned every beach on the East Coast being like those of the Outer Banks where I first learned to surf. A constant wave machine pumping out sizable waves that beg to be ridden. Not so.

South Carolina is a slop-machine with the wave pumping action of Lake Erie. The opposite of anything resembling good surf. Yet for 4 years, I religiously called the Folly Beach surfline to hear, "...and winds are out of the NW at 5-10 kts with waves averaging less than a foot and choppy." Still, I religiously slung my board on my car, blasted Weezer, and drove to the beach. With visions of North Shore in my head, I religiously raced over the 25th street dune only to find ankle slapping slop waiting for me on the other side. In fact, I did this so much that I joked that surfing was my religion. I felt a bit of pride knowing that while others sat in church, I sat on my board. My pride soon turned to frustration.

One can only take so much 2-foot chop. Lugging your board to and from the beach. Cleaning sand out of everything. Dodging the lineup and hordes of tourists. And the locals. You would think that the Washout was Oahu the way they act out there. Hey bra, your localism sucks. The frustration.

While I still love the ocean, I've since moved on. Found a new passion. I ride bikes instead of boards. I used to think that a bad day of surf beat a good day at work. Now my worst day on the bike is as good as a good day surfing. Top that. Now my 10-foot Orion just hangs in my garage, occasionally seeing the light of day and that lame 2-foot chop.