I DVR’d the Warriors VS. Lakers game. That’s the only way I watch anything on TV now, DVR. I glanced at my watch over and over again. It was already 4:30 P.M. I knew that I wanted to get in the water as early as possible, but I also love watching the Lake Show put on a clinic, too. When I drove to 45th and got my usual free parking space, a warm fuzzy feeling filled my heart as I stared out into the line up. I couldn’t believe it. There was practically no wind, the water was glassy, it was nice and warm, and there were peaks with clean shoulders. Surfing evening sessions are always risky. Usually, it’s always way better in the morning, and the evening is a gamble. However, there are some days when the evenings are perfect. Nine times out of ten, though, the evening sessions are disappointing. When I think of good evening sessions, one always pops up in my mind. Over a year ago Lauren and I drove down to Porto on a late afternoon to find Klaude running down 45th with his fish in hand. Lauren watched us from the sand as Klaude and I tore it up in front of the tanks just north of the 45th St. tower. That was a perfect afternoon. Whenever I drive to the beach for a late sesh, that is exactly the vision that I hope for. This day was just as good, if not better.
I changed as fast as possible and shuffled down to the sand. Immediately, I regretted not being there earlier. It was definitely a day that I should have showed up at four o’clock, said fuck the free parking, and dished out the quarters. I only had an hour, so I was going to make the best of it. There was a right hand peak that was breaking in front of the first tank to the north, and a left hand peak that was breaking just south of 45th. I paddled out in the saddle between both. Both peaks already had a couple long boarders, and I didn’t want to get too close to them because I expected them to get the slide earlier than me. Luckily, even though I wasn’t in the prime spot, some of the waves broke random enough in my area. I literally had that area to myself for forty five minutes. For most of the session I was getting nothing but lefts off of that south peak. It was a perfect day for a long board, but it was still fun enough for a fin or a juicy thruster. The water was so glassy that the wall of approaching water reflected back without any texture, almost giving an illusion of invisibility. After popping up I could see the perfect shoulder building and forming in front of me as I went down the line- that soft, smooth, and perfect curved surface that is just asking to be shredded by your big hunk of fiber glass. The shape was so perfect that it reminded me of the waves at Sunset Beach, how that right peak can be perfect sometimes. The only problem was that it would’ve been nice if it was a little bigger, but I’ll take clean three footers any day over afternoon chop.
I lied. There was another problem. … Me. I was trying to do way to fucking much on the waves again. I really should have just gone done the line, did some light carving, and enjoyed them all the way to shore. But no, yours truly was trying to carve the hell out of them to get some front side spray going on. Don’t get me wrong. Every wave was fucking fun, but I really should’ve recognized the waves for what they were made for that day. None-the-less, I paddled aggressively into each wave, tried my best to pump my board, practiced my turns and carves high up on the lip, and maybe got some baby splash before eating shit.
Every left I got was “pump training.” I was staying just outside of the crumble, racing with the section, and pumping non stop to stay on the face. After each wave I paddled back, ferociously, to get to the line again. I eventually paddled north to catch some rights as well, but since the waves were only three feet, I couldn’t get deep enough of a bottom turn to set me up for hack.
I left unwillingly. I turned around and saw more peaks coming. It wasn’t even crowded! A lot of people were missing out.
My lessons learned: I have to be patient on getting some spray on the front side. I have to remember that when I finally did it going backhand, that I had to get really comfortable with my backside carving to the point that throwing out the tail a little felt natural. It eventually led to that group session at 26th where I put a little more mustard on it, and “Wallah!” I got spray for the first time. My front side carving is still in it’s fetal stages of controlling the carve before I can throw out the tail a little. In due time. …
Right now it’s 3:14 P.M., the day after. I am packing up to head out to the beach. Hopefully it’s just as good.
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