CREW: J
TIME: 0700 - 0800, 1 hr.
WATER: Cold as hell, flat … thigh to knee high, howling winds on shore.
Shan, J, and I agreed to meet at 26th St. to change things up. I got a text from Shan the night before that it was too foggy to surf in the morning. I was a little surprised because I had no idea where he was getting his info from that there would be too much fog at the beach. J beat me to 26th. It was pitch black out with barely any cars parked, a bad sign. We walked out and took a look at the water. There was a group of local guys having their coffee and checking it out, too. The Manhattan Pier Christmas tree lights were nice and bright. It was a clear morning. The moonlight shimmered off of the waves and water, but the waves … were nonexistent. It was knee high at Manhattan. We tried to angle our heads in certain ways to make it look like the waves were bigger, but it wasn’t working. We decided to see if Porto looked any better.
There were only a couple cars parked. By then the sun was colored the eastern horizon. It was just a tad bit better, maybe knee high. The good thing was that there was no wind at all. It was nice and glassy, and even though the waves were small they still had shape. I contemplated on driving somewhere for surf, but J had to stay close to home because him family was in town.
I gave him a lock safe for Christmas, we changed, and we paddled out. There was a guy at 42nd catching a really nice left. I was amazed to see that sand bar still doing its thing even with the small conditions. We invaded some guy’s territory north of 45th. It took a while, but once the sets came in there were actually some nice shoulders. Pretty soon there were some longboarders out by us. I got a really nice right, but I fell on the pop up. J went left on the wave. When we both paddled back to the line a set wave came that we had to duckdive.
Once we resurfaced I noticed ripples in the water moving towards the shore. The ripples turned to chops, then the onshore winds took over. Whatever shape was there had left. The little waves were knocked down, they broke on the outside and bogged at the line up, and everyone started to leave. The winds got stronger, and the inactivity from lack of surf only made us colder. J made the call and said it was unsurfable. He was right.
If I knew the session would be that short I wouldn’t have pissed in my wetsuit. I thanked him for making it out. “We tried,” was the theme for the morning. Usually I say that it was “worth it” just to be out there. I was so cold that when I got home and took a shit, steam was rising from the toilet bowl. That morning it wasn’t worth the surf, but it was worth strengthening the surfer bond between buddies.
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