September 19: Enoshima Pre-Typhoon — Big Waves, Rescues, Injuries, and a Head Migraine. A Tough Day at the Office.
viva-wingfoilSaturday, September 19.
The forecast beforehand called for 4 to 5 m/s north winds, with the morning blowing closer to 5.
For where my skill level is right now, 4 to 5 m/s is prime territory.
Last week in super-light air, I managed to briefly pop up on the giant 2450 cm² foil.
So today, I figured I’d actually get some decent flying time in.
There was just one catch:
A typhoon was heading our way.
Checking the wave forecast, the swell was around 1 meter.
Clearly way bigger than normal Enoshima.
Even so, with 4–5 m/s of wind, I was hyped.
“Finally, a proper practice session.”
With that thought, I arrived at Enoshima around 9:30 AM.
Wait, Is That 10 m/s? And Why Is the Ocean a Blender?
When I got there, it was way windier than expected.
Just standing there, it felt like a solid 5 m/s.
But when I checked the real-time wind meter at the Enoshima Yacht Harbor, it read—
10 m/s.
“Hold on, 10 m/s?! Isn’t that straight-up too strong?”
Feeling a bit uneasy, I looked out at the ocean.
And the waves were insane.
Must’ve been the typhoon.
There was a visibly massive swell rolling in, and way more surfers out than usual.
The catch?
For how big they were, the wave shapes were garbage.
Instead of clean, peeling, rolling waves, they’d build up for a second and then suddenly dump with a massive—
CRASH!
“Man, even SUP surfing out there looks miserable.”
While I was getting my gear ready at the club, a member named K-san walked back up from surfing.
I asked him,
“The waves are huge. Why are you already calling it quits?”
K-san replied:
“The waves are huge, yeah, and they’re only gonna get bigger. But the shape is terrible. It’s sketchy. I’m done.”
Fair enough.
At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what he meant by “sketchy.”
But I would learn the hard way with my own body later on.
2450 or 2000? The Ultimate Foil Dilemma
Choosing a foil today was a total headache.
The wind felt like it was there, but also not there.
And the waves were massive.
Do I go with the smaller 2000 cm²?
Or stick with the 2450 cm² that magically popped me up at crazy low speeds last week?
In the end, I went with the 2450 cm² giant foil.
Priority number one was making sure I could get up on foil even if the wind dropped out.
I packed both the 6m² and 5m² wings just in case.
I spent about 30 minutes rigging up.
Then I hung out in the second-floor ocean-view lounge for another 10–20 minutes, just studying the water.
The waves were still massive.
But looking way out past the break, it barely even looked windy.
Right then, I saw another wingfoiler trying to launch.
And it looked like absolute torture.
20 Minutes for a Pro — The Nightmare of Clearing Big Surf
Every single time a wave broke, he got blasted right back onto the beach by his own board.
Forward.
Then pushed back.
Forward.
Then pushed back.
Over and over again.
The annoying thing about wingfoiling is that the mast—the fin-like strut—is about 80 cm long.
In windsurfing, if the water is even 30 cm deep, you can float your board, pop the sail up, and use its power to muscle your way out.
Wingfoiling doesn’t work like that.
Because of the long mast, you have to wade out to chest-deep water just to get the board floating normally.
Except on a day like today—
Chest-deep water is precisely where the waves are detonating with maximum violence.
To make matters worse, there’s a giant hydrofoil bolted to the bottom of your board.
Foils are basically flying butcher knives.
If you get sucked into a washing-machine wave and the board starts thrashing around, that foil can easily smash into your body.
I’ve had a close call before where a foil grazed my neck.
Hit the carotid artery, and you’re in serious trouble.
Plus, if the foil whips around and tags the wing, it’ll pop it instantly.
Just watching was giving me anxiety.
It took that guy a solid 20 minutes of absolute suffering to finally fight his way out.
“Is he a beginner or something?”
I wondered.
But the second he cleared the break zone—
He just popped right up on foil like it was nothing.
He was actually super advanced.
And that made me even more nervous.
If it took him 20 minutes... could I actually make it out there?
Panic started setting in.
Recon Mission via SUP
Still, I didn’t come all this way for nothing.
The beach shacks were mostly torn down, so the construction trucks were gone and the path to the water was wide open.
Without the summer swim buoys, marine sports weren’t trapped in a tiny corner anymore.
That said, because of the huge surf, the shoreline was crawling with surfers.
To check the actual conditions, I decided to paddle out on a SUP first instead of diving straight into winging.
Out on the water, reality hit.
Super gusty.
When a gust hit, it felt like a full-on gale.
But the second it died?
Total dead calm.
North winds are always a bit puffy, but today was on a whole other level.
Typhoon magic, I guess.
“Okay, winging in this is gonna be an absolute nightmare...”
I sat down on my SUP and just chilled, watching the open water.
Wait... Is That Guy Drifting Away?!
Out in the deep water, there were two other wingfoilers.
One guy was cruising back and forth normally.
But the second guy?
Something was off.
He’d try to stand up.
Fall off.
Get back on.
Fall off again.
He wasn’t making any forward progress at all.
In fact, the longer I watched, the more it looked like he was drifting farther and farther out to sea.
Today was an offshore wind.
That is a massive red flag.
Since I was on a SUP, I could technically paddle over to him.
But let’s be real.
I don’t have ocean rescue skills.
Even if I offered to swap him my SUP so he could paddle back while I took his wing gear, if he didn’t know how to handle a SUP, he could just drift away on that too.
It was a sketchy situation.
Scanning the beach, I spotted a trio of lifeguards doing rescue-board drills a bit farther down.
“There they are.”
I paddled over as fast as I could.
“Hey, there’s a wingfoiler way out there who’s struggling and drifting off. Could you guys go check on him?”
The lifeguards spotted him immediately.
“We’re on it.”
And they paddled out right away.
By that point, the guy had given up trying to wing back.
He was lying flat on his board, hand-paddling.
Since it was a headwind, he was barely moving.
The lifeguards reached him.
After a painfully slow struggle, they successfully escorted him back to safety.
I watched from a distance until I knew he was safe.
Then I let out a huge sigh of relief.
I didn’t pull off some heroic solo rescue.
But at least I pointed the right people in the right direction.
Big Waves = SUP Surfing Time
I paddled back to shore.
Since the waves were actually breaking today, I thought:
“Let’s try a little SUP surfing before I touch the wing.”
That turned out to be an intense mistake.
When you timed it right, you could catch some rides.
I actually scored one or two fun waves.
But exactly like K-san warned—
The wave shape was atrocious.
Miss your timing by a fraction of a second, and a massive wall of water would sneak up from behind and go—
BOOM!
I got completely rag-dolled by a monster wave.
Because I use my SUP for wingfoiling too, I was wearing a flotation life jacket.
Most pure surfers don’t wear vests.
But today, that extra buoyancy had me tumbling around in the whitewater like I was stuck inside a washing machine.
For a split second, I thought:
“Okay... this is actually pretty dangerous.”
It wasn’t a life-or-death panic.
But it was the first time in a while I genuinely felt a chill of fear in the ocean.
I took a beating all over my body.
And without even realizing it in the adrenaline rush—
I had completely jammed my right middle finger.
Later on, the throbbing kicked in.
Bending it hurt like hell.
Back on July 25, I busted my right pinky.
Now my right middle finger.
“Why do I get hurt every single time I come here...?”
I was getting pretty sick of myself.
Still Chasing the Wingfoil Dream
Normally, getting worked like that is your cue to pack it in and go home.
But I came here to wingfoil, dammit.
I ditched the SUP.
Grabbed the 2450 cm² + 6m² setup.
And waded out.
The main boss was still the shore break.
Wait for a lull.
Watch the sets roll in.
Crashing water.
Take two steps forward.
Get pushed one step back.
I guarded my foil like my life depended on it so the waves didn’t trash it.
Somehow, I fought my way out to chest-deep water.
Sketchy as hell.
But I broke through.
Made it to open water.
“Alright. Now I just gotta ride.”
Except...
No wind.
Classic.
Too Much Wind, No Wind, Repeat
A 6m² wing when there’s zero breeze feels like lifting a wet anvil.
Plus, the massive swells were rolling underneath me.
Stand up.
Wind drops out.
Lose balance and fall in.
Stand up again.
Fall in again.
I repeated that loop two or three times.
And then—
BAM.
Out of nowhere, a massive gust hit.
Too strong.
Instant overpowered panic.
When it blows, it’s a hurricane.
When it stops, it’s a desert.
There was zero rhythm to it.
Honestly?
It wasn’t fun at all.
Still, I caught one decently timed puff.
The wing loaded up.
The board started accelerating.
And—
Whoosh.
The 2450 lifted me right up.
It was super short-lived.
But flying always feels incredible.
“Ah, right. This is what I came out here for.”
That was my first real mood booster of the day.
Cue the Headache from Hell
And then, right after that—
Out of nowhere, a blinding headache hit me like a truck.
It was a level of head pain I had literally never felt before.
A severe headache.
Way out in deep, open water.
And remember—
The wind was offshore.
“If I pass out or get incapacitated out here right now... what happens?”
Fall off the board?
Get blown completely out to sea like the guy I saw earlier?
I had just watched a rescue happen an hour ago.
That was enough.
“I’m done. I’m calling it.”
As much as it sucked to quit, staying alive ranks slightly higher than finishing a session.
Without any hesitation, I bailed on the practice and fought my way back to shore.
Today, the Ocean Won
What even was today?
The promised 4–5 m/s wind turned into a chaotic, gusty mess.
The typhoon swell made the waves massive and ugly.
I got tossed in the surf on my SUP and wrecked my middle finger.
I fought tooth and nail to get my wing gear out.
Only to fly for a few seconds.
And I wrapped it all up with a skull-crushing headache.
Talk about a brutal session.
Looking back, K-san was 100% right when he said that morning:
“The wave shape is terrible. Too much injury risk. I’m out.”
Experienced surfers can just look at the ocean and instantly read the vibe.
You can’t capture “today is dangerous” in a simple wind-speed or wave-height number.
That realization might honestly be the biggest lesson I learned today.
And it had nothing to do with foiling technique.
Silver Linings
It wasn’t a total disaster, though.
I spotted the drifting guy and got the lifeguards to check on him.
The 2450 cm² foil actually managed to lift me up even in those terrible conditions.
And most importantly—
When my body screamed,
“This is unsafe.”
I actually listened.
I quit early.
And I made it back safely.
On the brink of a typhoon, maybe just surviving the session counts as a win.
Since it’s a long weekend, I originally planned to grind out a ton of practice.
But tomorrow and the day after are forecasted for torrential downpours.
Will I even get a chance to go out on the final day?
My pinky just healed.
And now my middle finger is busted.
First jellyfish.
Now massive rogue waves.
The ocean really refuses to let me practice in peace.
Next time, I just want normal wind.
Normal waves.
And a normal, drama-free foiling session.
That is literally my only wish right now.
P.S. The beach shacks are officially completely torn down now!
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