CREW: Randy, John A., Dave T., Manny A., Jack
TIME: 0700- 0900, 2 hrs.
WATER: Going from mid to low tide, still some weird movement on the inside, shallow where the waves were breaking, off shore winds consistent, walled on the plus sets, inside shoulders on the small ones.
Randy had to handle some business in town today, so we decided to get a morning session in together. Cheryl told me that she might make it which meant that she wasn’t gonna surf. It doesn’t matter because she didn’t miss shit anyway. We scored parking on 45th St. Since I dinged the JSS, I brought the Merrick back into service. The morning air was a little cold. We saw a set coming in as we looked down the hill. From our vantage point it looked like there were long, but really clean peaks, about shoulder high.
We decided to get away from the crowd and paddled in right before the tanks. As we paddled out we duckdove some waves with good shape. Once we were at the line a soft right shoulder came my way. I told Randy to go for it. After that I don’t know what the hell happened. The waves were long and walled, kamikazes again. Randy paddled towards the tanks where Ray was. It looked like there were some clean rights over there. I kept the faith where I was. I caught some smaller waves that were in between the sets. I did the rail grab thing going right, but those waves were garbage. I managed to crank out a couple bottom turns, but by the time I hit the lip it was already closing out.
The sun blinded me as I glanced to the south to see who else was in the line. Other than the shitty surf, the sun and atmosphere was marvelous. I noticed that Dave was right by me, then I saw that he was surfing with Manny and Jack. They said it was better when the tide was higher. I don’t know how he did it, but Manny picked out the shoulders from the walls that rolled through. I guess it’s something in the Amador gene. I later saw John A. to the north and exchanged a little small talk about how his Christmas went. Apparently, Rick is in Big Bear shredding some snow while we are stuck with the funky surf.
My brother paddled back to where we were. He said he got a couple, and that it was actually better than Huntington. I could only imagine how shitty it must be down there. It was almost 0900, so I power walked back to the Outback to avoid the Manhattan Meter Maids. Randy was shivering his ass off. I guess it’s that Bali weather still in his veins.
At 1400 we went to check out the water again. Surfline had a report at 1255 that said it was three to four feet with occasional five and low wind. When we arrived it looked even worse than the fucking morning. We passed. Another day of fucking shitty ass motherfuckin’ surf. Fuck my ass. … I’m dying for a clean wave. I planned to surf San Onofre for my birthday tomorrow, but the forecast looks horrible all throughout southern California. I hate being so bummed. When the surf sucks, I suck. Oh well.
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