FLAKES OF THE DAY: J
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0700 - 0900, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: A little icy, slight off shore wind, cloudy with a few peaks from the sun, shoulder to chest high.
Since I would be working this weekend, I had to take any opportunity to paddle out. J asked me to surf at Porto in the morning with him. I intended to go to HB or even Trestles, but surfline gave Porto a “green” rating, so I thought I’d chance it by staying local.
I text J as I warmed up my car at 0615. He never responded, so I headed to Porto to take a look. It was extremely overcast, but there were actually waves. The tide was mid-high to high, and shitters had the best peaks. I watched 45th and the tanks for a while, but the peaks looked a little “lined,“ so I considered heading to Parks since there was still no sign of J.
I got parking at the top of the hill. Porto, yes, it’s usually better than Parks, but fuck paying for metered parking. For me, surfing around 26th St. is a way of sticking the middle finger to the City of Manhattan Beach and their damn price hikes at the meters.
I made my way down to the gray overcast that hovered over the whole South Bay. The usual suspects took hold of the main break, but there were scattered peaks that placed everyone at good intervals. I decided to paddle out closer to 30th St.
The water seemed just as cold as the water during my last session in Del Mar. The ominous gloom enveloped me like a crystal ball; it didn’t feel welcoming. I felt as if I was a runaway that left a broken home--living on the streets, indulging in depraved vices--only to return to an angry, drunk, and abusive parent. That parent was the South Bay. Thoughts of the past beatings I’ve received by her hand flashed through my mind each time my fingers entered her icy surface.
I paddled way past the line up to feel her energy. It’s something I usually do when I get to the line; I never go straight for a wave; I like to see what’s breaking where and take account of my surroundings.
This entry is a late one, so my memory is a bit fuzzy on the rides that I got, but I believe my first one was a left. The waves seemed to close out pretty fast, and the good waves seemed to appear out of luck. My timing was good when I paddled into it, and I was surprised to have an open face. I hit the lip and attempted to do a top turn, but my rail wasn’t set into the wave, so my turn was flat. Despite the slashing movement of my upper torso and arms, there was only a hint of spray on the lip. After that ride I reached an epiphany on how important it is to dig the rail into the wave. That’s another reason why I’ve had problems with my front side hacks: I’ve been top turning with just the bottom surface of my board, that’s why I usually stall on the lip and bog out. The rail … the rail needs to be in the wave first. If you generate a powerful turn by pushing on the tail while the rail is set, then you’ll gouge the face open which will result in some kind of spray. Well, of course it’s easier said than done. I think my backside developed first because I got comfortable trimming all the way up and down on that side first.
I lost a perfect right. It was from a bigger chest to shoulder high set, but as I bottomed turn to go up the face I couldn’t manipulate the rail, so my board (with the speed of the wave) drove me up and out the back. Some other guys around me saw that I wasted a perfect, open shoulder. Embarrassing.
I did get one good right. It was another open shoulder, and this time I felt how smooth and flowing a backhand ride could be with use of the back half of the rail. Things as simple as shifting your back foot into the right places, tilting the board with your front foot, bending your knees, springing up as you bottom turn, and pushing the tail into the lip, can turn a wave ride into something more, more than just a ride but something more expressive, something like art.
My wave count wasn’t high, but I was happy with the couple of gems that I discovered through the sifting of the South Bay norm. I’ve been cheating on my home break, driving long distances for a better wave. For that session she didn’t seek retribution or punishment. Instead, I got more of the silent treatment or “cold shoulder.” The truth was that it was one of the better sessions that I had while surfing local for a while. It’s not fair to compare her to the soft, perfect, and open faces down south. But she’s always there waiting on me when I return, and she’s ready to give me all that she can offer.
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