CREW: Cheryl, Christina, Dais
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0700 - 0900, half hour break, 0930 - 1120, total of 3 hrs. & 50 min.
CONDITIONS: Slight off shore breeze, high tide, a little mooshy. First session had shoulder to head high peaks and very long rides all the way to the sand. Sunny and warm, summer in the winter. Second session was a little closed out.
PART I
Rick really wanted me to drive to San Onofre to join him and his friends for a morning surf session. I really didn’t want to drive all the way there again. Besides, the WNW swell seemed stronger than the SSW swell, so I gambled on the conditions being better local. I wasn’t looking forward to the crowds and the parking, but I decided to get to Parks Beach early to score a free spot. If it didn’t look good there, I would’ve considered driving to HB.
The night before, I asked the DRC who was in, and Cheryl, Christina, and Dais were down. Although, they wanted to arrive a little later around 0900. Shan and J said they wanted an afternoon session. I packed some snacks to make sure I would have enough energy when they arrived. I was in Manhattan Beach by 0620. I tried to score free parking on Rosecrans to no avail. I parked on the east side of Highland Ave. only to see that Monday has street cleaning. I, then, found a spot on 27th St. I walked down to take a look before I suited up. Some people may not like high tide conditions, but in the South Bay I find them fun. A couple peaks were going off in front of 26th and a little further south. The mooshy waves still looked fun. I sent out the mass text, suited up, chose the 6’2 DMS, and hit the sand. There weren’t many people in the water yet, but I paddled out just south of the 30th St. tower so I could have a peak to myself. A long haired, dark, Pacific Islander guy dominated the peak just south of me. I think they call him “The King of 26th.” I see him there all the time, but I don’t know his name. He had a bigger peak, but I was still in a good spot.
The sun was just barely over the Manhattan homes, seagulls congregated on the beach, and black uniformed soldiers with their boards trickled down the hill and onto the sand. Soon I had the peak with two other guys. The water had a little bit of texture on the surface, combined with the cold temperature and icy blueness, I felt as if I was immersed in a body of water on a high mountain. I watched the peaks roll in. They were just the right size for my shortboard, headhigh. Mooshy, but steep, I watched the pockets turn darker as the waves began to curl. I paddled in too early on my first couple attempts, but eventually I paddled late enough to get the slide. I haven’t caught too many waves since switching to shorter boards, so every time I pop up I consider it a privilege, almost to the point that I can’t believe I’m free to ride them as I wish. Riding a shorter board is different; every moment counts. My pop ups have to be faster, there’s a slight struggle to maintain my balance, and I have to gain my composure right away before the section runs out. So many things happen in fractions of a second, but they are like slow motion scenes in my mind. I fell going left. I caught a right too late, and when it broke over me, I had to slide on my belly before I popped up. Ride wasted. I caught another right where I flailed my arms in barney fashion before slipping backwards. Another memorable wipeout, I caught a left too late. I desperately pointed my nose down the line, but it was so steep that I stood perfectly upright with the wave face right in front of me. I was in a critical spot, it was too fast, and it felt like I was smashed head-on by a bus made of water. I laugh when I think about it now, and thank goodness it wasn’t that brutal. I caught a lot of insignificant rides that was more like shortboard training. Maybe when Rick is gracious enough to repair my 6’3 JS, I can perform better.
My wave of the day happened fairly early, in between “Matt‘s blunders.” Despite almost four hours of surfing, within the first fifteen minutes my session was MADE. I caught this left hander right on the shoulder in front of the peak, on what seemed like the best spot to slide down. It was a little racy, but I pumped my board to keep up and gather speed. As the wave approached the inside it jacked up higher. With my brother’s advice in mind, I successfully carved the top of the lip, throwing my shoulder and hips clockwise. Miniature baby spray misted the air behind me. No, not an official “spray” yet, but gawd damn that’s the closest I’ve ever been! I kept pumping and carving the lip; I was trying to put as much mustard on those top turns as I could. I was already going over the sand, and I jumped ship over knee deep water. I can’t help but smile writing about it now. It was such a long ride. Those were the best turns that I have ever pulled off going front side, and I did it on a board that I wasn’t even sure that I was ready for. I tried so hard to force duplicate another ride like that, but the opportunity never came. The dropping tide changed the shape, and crowd in the water was as thick as a Macedonian Battle Formation. Needing fuel, I exited at 0900.
PART II
I scanned the endless sea of wetsuits for Cheryl, Christina, and Dais. By chance, I saw Christina just as she got to the front of the 26th St. tower. I hid behind my board and snuck up on her using my Asian ninja skills. She told me that the others were on their way, and that she’d start her session in the meantime. I walked back to my car, ate a breakfast bar, drank some water, swapped boards, grabbed an orange, and reapplied some sunblock. I hoped that the little nourishment would give me the extra duckbutter power I needed for another session.
I walked back down the hill with my heavy 6’6 as I heard someone yelling my name out. It was Cheryl, and she was in the first lot. She commented on my failing attempt at growing a beard and mustache. Just as she did that, there came Dais with his mountain man hair do. That guy can grow some serious face bush. Only if he knew how much I envied him. I got back to the tower to find Christina munching on a banana. She said she caught 5 waves and was taking a break. I had no idea I was gone for a half hour. We sat and waited for everyone else. To keep myself occupied I tested the seal in my brother’s wetsuit by taking a steamy warm piss. And whattaya know, the seal was good. I felt the pool of piss all the way up to the small of my back, then I made a pair of balls and a shaft out of sand and placed it over my crotch. At that moment, I knew I was ready for round two.
The waves looked smaller, softer, and the crowd was just as thick. Our DRC squad paddled out like a family. I led the charge, Dais was covering my six, and Cheryl and Christina valiantly fought the inside white wash. It turned out to be more brutal than I thought. With the tide dropping, some of the sets got a little walled and punchy. Some sets had a lot of close outs in them, and a lot of surfers got cleaned up on the inside. The current was pretty strong, and it took us further north into a different crowd.
There were so many heads out that almost every wave had a party on it. I know Cheryl caught some waves, but I didn’t get a good look at her rides. Dais got a handful of rides, as I saw him disappear behind some closeouts. I thought we all got close outs; I know I did. They weren’t completely closed out, but there were only a couple pumps on the face before it was time to bail.
Christina earned a DRC stripe today. We were talking about what to look for in a wave and how to tell if it’s a good one to paddle for. I caught a little right to the inside. As I paddled back out I saw Christina committing to a very late take off on a walled and plus sized wave. I would’ve definitely backed off, but she went for it “CLAM OUT” (opposite of balls out). I had to duckdive that wave, so I didn’t see the aftermath, but I found her bobbing in the water with her board off to the side. I asked if she was all right, and she was fine. I told her that I commended her bravery. I caught a pretty good amount of waves, but I never got to pull off any good turns. They seemed a little racy. I did get one left that I got a couple pumps on, but I reverted to my old top turn, stalled, and ate shit.
I got caught on the inside during my second session. I used to blame my ability to duckdive, but that Merrick is so damn thick and buoyant, I couldn’t get that thing under for shit. I felt as if I should’ve just stuck with the 6’2 potato chip. I almost paddled back out after my last wave. Cheryl was on the inside with me. I turned to her and told her I’d be on the sand. I was done. It didn’t seem worth it anymore. I was almost into my fourth hour. I found Christina chilling by the tower. She commented on the beautiful day and said she planned on staying there for the whole afternoon. I waited until about 1130, told her to give Cheryl and Dais my love, then I left.
I came home and ate like I was starving to death: two slices of pizza, a huge plate of pasta, and two dinner rolls with Lauren’s homemade garlic dipping sauce. No afternoon session for me today. My neck is so stiff from all that paddling. I was happy to surf with a bunch of buddies again; it’s been a while since a group of us have been out in the water together. Martin Luther King Day produced some of the best summer-like conditions with good surf. Awesome. …
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