Even though the surf reports said that the surf would go flat, Shan and I were too pumped to pass up another morning session at Porto. None of us scored on the free parking this time around. I saw Ray in the parking lot before Shan showed up. By the time he pulled up, I was already in my wetsuit. I told him I’d look at the jetty, but if it didn’t look good that I’d be at 45th or the tanks. It was just after 6:00 A.M., so the sun wasn’t up yet, and the sky was still an unlit blue. My feet began to hurt as soon as they touched the sand; it felt like I was walking on packs of ice. The jetty wasn’t pumping at all, but the usual breaks were still producing some little rides. We got there before high tide, so the waves were about waist high. Ray and I looked at each other, and without saying anything we acknowledged the freezing sand. The water wasn’t much better either. Shan showed up with his surf gloves that he bought from 9star, and he praised them for keeping the water out of his wetsuit and his hands warm. I told him that my brother would look at me in disdain if her ever saw me wearing such things. We saw our little friend, the seal, on the inside. This time he was shaking something in his mouth. Indeed, he got a fresh kill. Good … good for him. I guess it was Thanksgiving for the animals, too.
We were catching the lefts from the peak off of 45th. They were soft, spilling, waves with medium power on the drop. That morning had a lot more surfers than the previous mornings. There were black suited figures all the way from 45th to Manhattan. Luckily, everyone wanted to hog the main breaks, while Shan and I had no crowd troubles where we were. The wind and tide picked up a little, and the waves got smaller and softer. It turned into a longboarder’s wave again. It was 8:00 A.M. Shan and I had the opportunity to feed the meter or call it a day. We decided that it wasn’t worth it and headed out.
It was a Thanksgiving Day session. We got some waves, but nothing significant. However, It was better than nothing.
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