THE DEFINITION OF AN EVENING SESSION: WED 3.30.2011 EVE

CREW: Cheryl, Shan, J
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 1715 - 1945, 2 hrs. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: mid tide, barely any wind, glassy, smooth, minimum texture, crowded, beautiful sunset, consistent, hard paddle on inside, occasional open shoulders, 2-4 feet.

    I missed yesterday’s evening sessions. Dais and Klaude both hit me up, but I felt that I needed to handle some other things that I’ve neglected over the weekend. I stayed up until past 0300 this morning finishing up the blogs from Trestles, so I ended up flaking on J this morning from lack of rest. I was supposed to meet him at Porto at first light; instead he called me to give me the report while I was still butt naked in bed.

    After a frustrating afternoon of failing to complete my errands, I decided that I had to surf; I just had to get in the water. I sent out the mass text to see who was dusk patrolling. Rick, Dais, and Klaude had obligations, but Cheryl, Shan, and J said that they’d roll.

    I timed my arrival perfectly and snagged free parking on the hill just before 1700. As I was putting on some sunblock, J knocked on my car window and was parked a couple cars back. The tide looked low, the sets looked lined, and a few disorganized corners popped up. However, I did see one fairly clean three foot shoulder roll through from the tanks all the way to 45th. That’s when I knew that staying dry wasn’t an option. But best of all was the atmosphere: the sky was blue with some faint traces of clouds, the sun was shining bright, white light reflected on the water, and it was sixty eight degrees out. I figured that if we surfed until sunset that the conditions had to improve by then. I sent out the last text to give the report, and I told Cheryl that it might be a good day for her longboard.

    J and I paddled out right in front of 45th. He went first while I took my time warming up.
    I caught up with him really fast, and I couldn’t help but think, Oh yeah . . . Bali training, baby. I’m in shape!

    Well, that was until the first wave that I had to duck dive came, then the other, then the other, and then another fuckin’ wave. Holy shit, did I really think that Porto would let me get away that easy? Like a bastard child sneaking in the back door, I got caught with the light on, and Mother Porto was letting me have it. It’s not that the surf was that big, but the inside was so damn consistent, and the low tide didn’t help much either. I felt like I wasn’t even moving. So far for being in Bali shape. I don’t know how, but eventually I made it out to the line, and I think that J even beat me there.

    It was crowded out. The low tide into the first hour provided shitty surf. There were random corners, and guys with fatter boards were able to paddle in early. After the first hour the increase in tide made things a little better. Bionic J was using his bionic arm again to paddle into waves. What I noticed about J is that he doesn’t do that many turns, but he can pump his board, and he’s really fast going down the line. The end result is he always ends up getting long ass rides because he’s keeping up with the running sections. He got more waves than I, and all I could do was watch him from behind, the top half of his body, ahead of the shoulder, and going all the way to shore.

    I saw Shan and Cheryl paddling out together. They were both struggling on the inside, too. I told Shan that we missed him over the weekend, but he said that he surfed up north instead. We actually secured a little spot in the water amongst the crowd. By the time they arrived, the conditions got much better. I caught my wave of the day, too bad I was blinded by water for most of the ride. I got a right that let me do a nice top turn, I pumped further down the line, and then I kicked out over the lip to end it. Right after my ride, J got another long right, and then Shan got a long left. We were all scoring, which was funny because there were a lot of guys out there that seemed really good, and we were getting more waves than them.

    Cheryl said, “I’m beginning to think that I should have brought my other board.”

    That was my fault, but I tried to tell her to take advantage of the length, and catch the waves early. She and Shan shared a wave, and then she later told me that she got a clean ride.

    When I first got to the line up I was telling them how much I missed Trestles, but Cheryl said that it felt good to be home. Her comment didn’t resonate with me until the conditions got really beautiful. Out of nowhere, Cheryl spotted a dolphin floating by the water. We thought it was dead, but then it took a breath from its blowhole, and the rest of his homies joined him. Seagulls swooped by us in dive bomber formation. The setting sun changed the clouds in the sky to a pinkish, orangey, yellow color; those same colors reflected on the water. The ocean was unbelievably glassy. J commented that the water was so smooth that the waves appeared to have no depth to them. I’ve pulled so many evening sessions like this one, but it’s been so long that I almost forgot how beautiful it is just to be out there in the water. Seeing the Santa Monica Mountains silhouetted in front of the pink sky brought back all the feeling of what made that place “home” for me. I guess Cheryl was right. The sky lost its illumination, and Cheryl and Shan left together.

     I took a look at J. He said, “I’m staying until its dark.”

    “I’m with you,” I replied.

    We were waiting for that last wave. What was a crowded line up was now only four. J got his last good right, and then there were only three. I didn’t find a good wave to end it, but I caught a close out back to shallow water. The water was now deeper than it was earlier. It’s funny how a couple hours can make a huge difference.

    I’m still suffering from Trestles Withdrawal Syndrome (TWS), but Porto was good to us this evening. The waves aren’t perfect like down south, but Porto still has good training value. The inside was a little brutal which called for a faster paddle, and the unorganized shoulders only forced us to adapt at a faster rate. My home is at Porto, but my mind is in Trestles. I guess I’ll just have to surf them both.