Lauren worked early today, so I got to El Porto by 6:15 A.M. I scored a free spot on the hill, so I took my time suiting up. Shan hit me up last night and told me he’d be there. I could tell just from looking down the hill that the tide was really high. I saw an inside left and right form on the same wave, then they eventually crashed into eachother. I love El Porto at high tide; it’s better than low tide. Even if high tide makes the waves mooshy, eventually the tide will come down, and the waves usually get better. Mooshy waves are still rideable either way.
I got to the sand and almost paddled right out at 45th, then I thought about Hammerland. It could’ve been firing off, and my brother has been persistent about me checking it out. The thoughts of untouched lefts firing off of the jetty were too tempting to pass up; I had to know. I jogged there until I was tired. I finally showed up to look at the left. It wasn’t really doing anything. In fact, the right that was going into the jetty looked better than any lefts on that side. So sad. I took a moment to piss on myself, then I walked back to 45th. It at least looked peaky. There were some long peaks by the smoke stacks, tanks, and the other usual spots. I paddled out at 45th. There was a different feeling paddling out. It felt like I was in a deep pool or in deep water. It made the paddle out effortless. When I got to the line I realized that the overcast over the ocean, combined with the sun to the east, made it really hard to read the waves. The glassy surface almost made the waves invisible, and I could only see them by the micro chops of texture on their faces. My first wave was easily caught. It was a left. I barely had to stroke into it. It was a fat wave that began to wall up. I saw it getting a little hollow, but I ended up falling from trying to pump my board. I thought about the wave the rest of the session. I think it barreled just a little bit, good enough for maybe two seconds before it closed. I regretted not making an attempt to get in the pit. Shan showed up, and he motioned me over a little more south to where the left shoulder was. There were a couple more guys on the peak, so I had to pass on some waves that others paddled into early. Shan got a nice right. The guys in the line were watching him. I didn’t see any spray, but he got three good turns, and it was a long ride. I got a couple right handers that let me do one bottom turn and one crack at the top, unspectacular at that.
Shan had to leave early, then for some reason the waves got really inconsistent. The tide was still pretty high, and it was a long wait for sets to come through. Some of the set waves were about four feet, but fuckin’ walled. I passed on the walls; I was desperately seeking shoulders. I got a couple lefts that bogged out on me. I caught a fast one, but I was behind the section, and it ran away. I got on some more rights, but they were walled, and projecting up the face would’ve set me up for getting pitched.
The set waves were actually a little punchy. I tried to duck dive a wave right in the impact zone. It flipped me upside down, and when I tried to resurface, my fins were right over my head. I thought about how Lauren cut her head on my long board, but I was lucky that I broke no skin.
It was good when I got there, but everything just turned to shit. I have a bad feeling that that was as good as today is gonna get. I may check it out later. I thought about my friend Al Jimenez. He surfs in Santa Cruz, and he’s a lot better than me. What sucks is that I probably surf at least twice as much as him, but he has to be better because he rides better waves. Once my girlfriend gets a car and starts driving, I really want to make time to surf down south, or anywhere that has better shape. I love El Porto, but it’s not great all the time, and I know that awesome waves are somewhere just a drive away. They’re saying, “Matthew, Matthew, come fuck me in the ass!” But I can’t. … I can’t.
No comments:
Post a Comment