Sunday, November 28, 2010
HERO TO ZERO, THE REALITY OF DEMORALIZATION: 11.28.2010 SUN
Everyone, yesterday morning, agreed to meet for a surf session today. I planned to be at Porto at first light, but I slept in until six in the morning. I checked my phone, and Shan text that he was awake. I suited up in my apartment and headed out. I could see that the surf was up as I approached Hammers. The swell looked messy; there were scattered peaks, the water seemed a little choppy, and the waves were about shoulder high. At 6:30 A.M. I scored free parking on 45th and sent out the mass text to everyone. Shan told me he was getting coffee and that he would be there soon. To my surprise, Christina had text me that she was already there in the lot. Only three marauders showed up. I met them in the parking lot as they sipped their hot coffee, still dressed. Someone called my name; it was Rick. That made four marauders. I wanted to check out the jetty, but Rick said he wanted to get the right handers in front of the tanks. I told him I’d meet him out there.
I did a light warm up on the sand. The sets were really consistent, and some of the sets seemed to last long. There was still no one in the water, except for a couple guys by Rosecrans. The El Porto lot was practically empty, with only a couple guys chit chatting by their cars, and some people watching by the rocks. The sun rose over the horizon, and the rain filled ocean reflected back a brownish tint. The ocean looked ominous again, like it did on Wednesday morning, but today seemed a little more brutal. The conditions were not clean, and just the chop with the size seemed a little daunting. Alone on the sand, I walked as far as I could on the inside to prep my paddle out. I was the lab mouse. If anyone was there watching, I would be the one to “test the waters” first. I only got worked a little bit before I chose to slide onto my board to paddle out. I was lucky that I only had to duck dive a couple waves in order to get to the line. Nervous energy filled my body. I, again, didn’t like the feeling of being out there alone. I passed on the first set that steam rolled through. I needed to catch my breath and get a feel for the waves and what they were doing. Another vicious right hand peak broke further north from where I was. I looked ahead, and bumps in the surface started to form. It was a little unpredictable again. The conditions made the waves seem bigger. Some of the head high waves didn’t seem to break until later, but watching them approach made me feel the necessity to get out of the way. I finally caught my breath and went for my first wave. I caught a right that jacked up at the last second. At least the waves weren’t punchy, but the drops were steep and a little technical. I slid down and couldn’t believe I was making the drop. I picked a simple line to keep me on the face before the wave closed out. There were a lot of close outs, but some waves opened up for a decent ride. I got a couple more before I got the shit scared out of me. As I popped up on another wave, my right foot got caught on my leash. As I got held down, the leash wrapped perfectly around my ankles; I was binded. I wanted to swim to the surface, but it was a scary feeling not being able to kick with my feet. I reached down to pull on my leash, but the force of the wave kept my leash outstretched. I thought to myself that I might be in a little situation. I felt for the bottom with my feet to see if I could push off. Thank goodness it was there. When I reached the surface I got some slack to free my legs. It was really sketch out there. As I duckdived a wave, I took a look at the ocean bottom. It wasn’t clear at all. So many disturbed and floating particles made the sun’s rays impenetrable. All I could see was my board, dark brown water, and endless blackness beyond. There was a dark murky world down there; it looked like death, and I didn’t want to be a part of it.
I paddled back to the line and tried feel comfortable. Shan, Christina, and Rick weren’t there yet; no one was out there. I saw Old Man Mark (Surfing Santa) and another guy watching me from the rocks. Right about then I caught my wave of the day. A left came through, and I was able to stay on the open face and keep ahead of the section. It, then, reformed towards the inside, and I changed direction going right. It wasn’t pretty, but I felt that I was at least trying to make the best of the situation despite my inexperience and nervousness in the lonely surf. I paddled back with ease. The ocean seemed calm for a moment. As I sat out there by myself I felt something special. No one else was there, barely anyone was out in the parking lot, and I had the break all to myself. I didn’t like being alone, but it felt like it took something special to be there: will, determination, dedication, courage, adversity, etc. I couldn’t help but toot my own horn. I would later find out that I tooted it too quick.
Rick was just to my south. He yelled, “You’re hands aren’t cold?”
“Not yet!” I replied. He had all of the gear: head warmer, booties, and gloves. We talked about the conditions as we scanned the horizon. More surfers were on the sand now, and they started popping up randomly in the line up. Dave Takanaka was out there, too. I didn’t even realize that there was a current dragging us south, and we were almost by 42nd already. I saw Shan and Christina in the line up. I was surprised that Christina was out there. When I was long boarding, I would’ve questioned my abilities to paddle out on a morning like this one, but there she was, the only chick out there. She said she was tired and she got worked on the inside. I told her bail out early on any waves she caught to avoid that. I got a couple more rides. The waves seemed to close out a little bit more. Shan and I paddled for this right together, I was on the inside, and I got the drop. It was like micro-Waimea style, with nothing but a big drop followed by an explosion of white water. I felt dominant in my power stance as I slid past a surfer duckdiving out of the way. My glory would end there.
I caught that wave farther than I intended, and this time I was the jerky on the inside getting worked. I let the waves crash over me without my board at first. When I began to paddle out again, it seemed that the waves never let up. I was duckdiving wave after wave, my face felt icy and cold from submerging so much. My duckdives got less and less ducky, then I was barely even able to penetrate the white wash. I finally made the decision to walk out and see if I could paddle out somewhere easier. I was way past the bathrooms; the current and rip pulled me so far from where I initially paddled out. I looked at the line up and could barely identify who was there because everything was so turbulent. I walked back south and paddled out there. I saw a guy catch a wave and wipe out right by me. I got worked all over again. It seemed that the white wash started in one area, and I was so close to getting past it. I was frustrated. I let out a loud “FUUUUUCK!” I turned to my left and saw that other surfer struggling right next to me. I finally got past the white water machine, my face numb, and my nostrils blowing like a frigid AC. I couldn’t even start celebrating because in front of me were the actual waves breaking that made all the white water. It was another “aww fuck.” Again, the waves just didn’t seem to let up. At first I thought it was just me that sucked ass, but the water just seemed so unrelenting and powerful; it was a combination of both. I saw Rick in front of me again, but I couldn’t reach him.
The bravado and manliness was no longer in me. I felt like I lost my balls. I staggered towards the shore frustrated, defeated, ashamed, unworthy, and beaten. I was back where I was the first time that I gave up. I turned and saw Christina getting out of the water. I stopped and waited, then I walked further on the shore, looking to see if I should try to paddle out again. It was past 8:00 A.M. The water definitely changed. Smaller, much more choppy, there was a stronger wind, and the inside was nothing but roaring white. Shan turned to me and said, “Rick is still out there.” Yes, yes he was still out there, and I didn’t even have a chance to say bye. I couldn’t hang with him, not with the big dogs today.
I drove my car into the lot and parked by my crew. We saw Klaude returning from the beach with his feet wet and sandy. “Where were you guys?” Klaude said.
We told him that we were done for the morning. Once we were all dressed it seemed that the ocean calmed down again. There was a welcoming channel by 45th that wasn’t challenging at all. The sets slowed down; the peaks looked amiable and fun. I felt like Mother Ocean was laughing at me, showing me who’s boss and who’s calling the shots, and that she was the real show while I was chancing on her mood every time I paddled out. I wanted to go back and redeem myself, but I was already dry, dressed, and my wetsuit lay cold and soaked in its tub.
Yup, hero to zero. I felt like a hero at first, but the ocean took all that away from me. I drove home ashamed of myself. I thought about what I could do to prevent that from happening again, or to get stronger to punch through to the line. I thought about some intense cardio training in addition to surfing. I felt like I didn’t deserve to call myself a surfer. I hated myself. I should be punished by having a match put out on my anus. Klaude stopped by after the session. He gave me a Power Balance Bracelet. It was a nice way to bring me back up a little after being demoralized. I’m going surfing again tomorrow, and I hope to redeem myself a little bit.
I did a light warm up on the sand. The sets were really consistent, and some of the sets seemed to last long. There was still no one in the water, except for a couple guys by Rosecrans. The El Porto lot was practically empty, with only a couple guys chit chatting by their cars, and some people watching by the rocks. The sun rose over the horizon, and the rain filled ocean reflected back a brownish tint. The ocean looked ominous again, like it did on Wednesday morning, but today seemed a little more brutal. The conditions were not clean, and just the chop with the size seemed a little daunting. Alone on the sand, I walked as far as I could on the inside to prep my paddle out. I was the lab mouse. If anyone was there watching, I would be the one to “test the waters” first. I only got worked a little bit before I chose to slide onto my board to paddle out. I was lucky that I only had to duck dive a couple waves in order to get to the line. Nervous energy filled my body. I, again, didn’t like the feeling of being out there alone. I passed on the first set that steam rolled through. I needed to catch my breath and get a feel for the waves and what they were doing. Another vicious right hand peak broke further north from where I was. I looked ahead, and bumps in the surface started to form. It was a little unpredictable again. The conditions made the waves seem bigger. Some of the head high waves didn’t seem to break until later, but watching them approach made me feel the necessity to get out of the way. I finally caught my breath and went for my first wave. I caught a right that jacked up at the last second. At least the waves weren’t punchy, but the drops were steep and a little technical. I slid down and couldn’t believe I was making the drop. I picked a simple line to keep me on the face before the wave closed out. There were a lot of close outs, but some waves opened up for a decent ride. I got a couple more before I got the shit scared out of me. As I popped up on another wave, my right foot got caught on my leash. As I got held down, the leash wrapped perfectly around my ankles; I was binded. I wanted to swim to the surface, but it was a scary feeling not being able to kick with my feet. I reached down to pull on my leash, but the force of the wave kept my leash outstretched. I thought to myself that I might be in a little situation. I felt for the bottom with my feet to see if I could push off. Thank goodness it was there. When I reached the surface I got some slack to free my legs. It was really sketch out there. As I duckdived a wave, I took a look at the ocean bottom. It wasn’t clear at all. So many disturbed and floating particles made the sun’s rays impenetrable. All I could see was my board, dark brown water, and endless blackness beyond. There was a dark murky world down there; it looked like death, and I didn’t want to be a part of it.
I paddled back to the line and tried feel comfortable. Shan, Christina, and Rick weren’t there yet; no one was out there. I saw Old Man Mark (Surfing Santa) and another guy watching me from the rocks. Right about then I caught my wave of the day. A left came through, and I was able to stay on the open face and keep ahead of the section. It, then, reformed towards the inside, and I changed direction going right. It wasn’t pretty, but I felt that I was at least trying to make the best of the situation despite my inexperience and nervousness in the lonely surf. I paddled back with ease. The ocean seemed calm for a moment. As I sat out there by myself I felt something special. No one else was there, barely anyone was out in the parking lot, and I had the break all to myself. I didn’t like being alone, but it felt like it took something special to be there: will, determination, dedication, courage, adversity, etc. I couldn’t help but toot my own horn. I would later find out that I tooted it too quick.
Rick was just to my south. He yelled, “You’re hands aren’t cold?”
“Not yet!” I replied. He had all of the gear: head warmer, booties, and gloves. We talked about the conditions as we scanned the horizon. More surfers were on the sand now, and they started popping up randomly in the line up. Dave Takanaka was out there, too. I didn’t even realize that there was a current dragging us south, and we were almost by 42nd already. I saw Shan and Christina in the line up. I was surprised that Christina was out there. When I was long boarding, I would’ve questioned my abilities to paddle out on a morning like this one, but there she was, the only chick out there. She said she was tired and she got worked on the inside. I told her bail out early on any waves she caught to avoid that. I got a couple more rides. The waves seemed to close out a little bit more. Shan and I paddled for this right together, I was on the inside, and I got the drop. It was like micro-Waimea style, with nothing but a big drop followed by an explosion of white water. I felt dominant in my power stance as I slid past a surfer duckdiving out of the way. My glory would end there.
I caught that wave farther than I intended, and this time I was the jerky on the inside getting worked. I let the waves crash over me without my board at first. When I began to paddle out again, it seemed that the waves never let up. I was duckdiving wave after wave, my face felt icy and cold from submerging so much. My duckdives got less and less ducky, then I was barely even able to penetrate the white wash. I finally made the decision to walk out and see if I could paddle out somewhere easier. I was way past the bathrooms; the current and rip pulled me so far from where I initially paddled out. I looked at the line up and could barely identify who was there because everything was so turbulent. I walked back south and paddled out there. I saw a guy catch a wave and wipe out right by me. I got worked all over again. It seemed that the white wash started in one area, and I was so close to getting past it. I was frustrated. I let out a loud “FUUUUUCK!” I turned to my left and saw that other surfer struggling right next to me. I finally got past the white water machine, my face numb, and my nostrils blowing like a frigid AC. I couldn’t even start celebrating because in front of me were the actual waves breaking that made all the white water. It was another “aww fuck.” Again, the waves just didn’t seem to let up. At first I thought it was just me that sucked ass, but the water just seemed so unrelenting and powerful; it was a combination of both. I saw Rick in front of me again, but I couldn’t reach him.
The bravado and manliness was no longer in me. I felt like I lost my balls. I staggered towards the shore frustrated, defeated, ashamed, unworthy, and beaten. I was back where I was the first time that I gave up. I turned and saw Christina getting out of the water. I stopped and waited, then I walked further on the shore, looking to see if I should try to paddle out again. It was past 8:00 A.M. The water definitely changed. Smaller, much more choppy, there was a stronger wind, and the inside was nothing but roaring white. Shan turned to me and said, “Rick is still out there.” Yes, yes he was still out there, and I didn’t even have a chance to say bye. I couldn’t hang with him, not with the big dogs today.
I drove my car into the lot and parked by my crew. We saw Klaude returning from the beach with his feet wet and sandy. “Where were you guys?” Klaude said.
We told him that we were done for the morning. Once we were all dressed it seemed that the ocean calmed down again. There was a welcoming channel by 45th that wasn’t challenging at all. The sets slowed down; the peaks looked amiable and fun. I felt like Mother Ocean was laughing at me, showing me who’s boss and who’s calling the shots, and that she was the real show while I was chancing on her mood every time I paddled out. I wanted to go back and redeem myself, but I was already dry, dressed, and my wetsuit lay cold and soaked in its tub.
Yup, hero to zero. I felt like a hero at first, but the ocean took all that away from me. I drove home ashamed of myself. I thought about what I could do to prevent that from happening again, or to get stronger to punch through to the line. I thought about some intense cardio training in addition to surfing. I felt like I didn’t deserve to call myself a surfer. I hated myself. I should be punished by having a match put out on my anus. Klaude stopped by after the session. He gave me a Power Balance Bracelet. It was a nice way to bring me back up a little after being demoralized. I’m going surfing again tomorrow, and I hope to redeem myself a little bit.
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