Crew: Christina, Klaude, Khang, Koa, Dais, Cheryl, Dave
Time: 0630-1030, 4 hrs.
Conditions: Gloomy then sunny, 1-2 feet, fairly consistent, crowded, warm, barely any wind, mellow, fun.
I have to give Christina credit. She's the one that sent out the bat signal to ask everyone to come out to Parks today. Initially, I wasn't enthused at all. The forecast only called 1-3 feet with poor conditions. I really wanted to drive south to HB, but everyone agreed on 26th . Instead of being selfish, I made the decision to see good friends that I haven't seen in over a month.
Going to bed early helps. It's 0515, and as I sit up in my bed I'm not tired at all. Poor Lauren. I got sick since returning from Bali, and I've passed my head-cold on to her. She's knocked out, usually waking on the sound of my alarm, but this morning the sleeps. I kill off a bowl of cereal with blue berries, and I get my cup of coffee started. I turn on the news to see what's up with Carmageddon, and things seem all right for day one of the freeway shut down. I make it a point to get to the beach early. It's still the weekend, I'm still the cheap bastard that I've always been, and I'll avoid paying Manhattan Beach's bills if possible. I find free parking and take a look at the lineup. The tide's low, the waves are consistent, it's overcast, there are a couple waves with shape, but it's also small with a lot of closeouts. I watch some of the local guys get some decent rides, so I look forward to doing some damage of my own.
As I'm passing the metered parking lots some guy yells out to me, “I see you got the warrior paint on!”
I look over. I have no idea who this guy is. It's the first time I've surfed 26th in over a month. Does he think I'm someone else? I reply, “Yeah . . . just a little.” A couple other guys in the lower lot look in my direction to see what's going on. Really . . . who gives a shit?
I don't know their names, but there are some older guys that shred at 26th. They are regulars and there every time I paddle out at that spot. Two of them are splitting a peak. The waves don't look like much, but they sell them, going for rides all the way to shore. I'm done with my presurf rituals. I abandoned them in Bali; they never did me any good. I paddle out near those guys hoping to join in on the plunder, but every wave I get is a close out, and I fall on a small left hander. At the same time I'm not that disappointed. The waves aren't good, so I'm not hard on myself.
At about 0745 I see Christina on the shore. I try to wave her over, but she doesn't see me. I make my way south of 26th to cross our paths. She welcomes me with her classic smile and tells me she's been following my Bali blogs. I thank her. I've only been gone a month, but I see the difference in her surfing. As soon as bumps appear on the horizon, she turns and starts paddling before I have a chance to react myself. Not all the waves are rideable, but her sheer initiative deserves praise. I acknowledge her new aggressiveness; it's a good sign.
A little after eight, I see Klaude, Khang, and Dais on the sand. It looks like it's going to be a good showing after all. For some reason the surf gets better with their arrival. I catch a couple waves while they warm up, but I still don't crank out one turn on a wave thus far. Klaude's on his longboard, Dais and Khang on their thrusters, and we all say hi. Someone else is saying hi to me in the line up. He looks familiar, but I have no idea who it is. It finally hits me after I return an awkward hello; it's Khang's twin brother Koa. His hair's longer, and he has a little mustache going. Deathwish Dave grabs my attention with his neon green wetsuit; there are a lot of us.
The line up is crowded, but with Cheryl’s arrival things actually thin out. This is when the wave buffet happens. The waves are barely two feet, mooshy, and crumbly, but there are a lot of them. The lulls aren't long, and everyone gets their fair share. Christina paddles so hard on a wave that I see the ugly grimace of determination. She's paddling, about to lose the wave, she's already stroking hard, her head turns, I see teeth and pain, and she somehow gets momentum over the ledge. It's a bit unnerving. No woman should wear a face like that unless she is giving birth, but it shows her hard work and determination to get the wave, and she does. When she comes back to the lineup I give her a new nickname: Neck Cranking Christina. Cheryl backs out on a couple of the bigger waves. Afterwards she says, “I should've just went.”
“Just go for those,” I tell her. “It's not dumpy, it's slopy, just go.” Her paddle has improved as well as she rakes in a decent wave count for the morning. The guys are just snaking each other. On one wave I got snaked by Dais while the twins were on the same wave ahead of him, and I wouldn't be surprised if Klaude was somewhere on that wave as well.
“Sorry, Matt,” says Dais as I turn to paddle back out.
“It's all right. Party wave.” Another significant event is a dangerous one. I'm trying to remember who snaked who first, but Klaude and Dave are going for the same wave. Klaude's watching Dave on his outside the whole time but they both fail to realize that a guy is already on the wave, and they're both in the way. Klaude eats it, and the longboarder maneuvers around him. Dave eats it, his board goes flying in the air, and the longboarder ducks just barely avoiding being bonked on the head. Some of the other guys see it unfold. After it's over, we're surprised that Klaude and Dave are oblivious to what just happened.
More danger. I usually praise myself on my good surf etiquette, but today I couldn't get out of the ladies's way for the life of me. I'm paddling out from the shallows after a ride. I scan the line up as I usually do. Cheryl's going for a wave that is right behind her, and I can't figure out if she's going left or right. I feel like I have no where to go and can only watch her pop up until she sees me and yells, “OH MY GOD, MATT!” She steps off of her tail, her board goes forward, and I go underwater. In the mess of it all I do a submerged front flip with my board. I hit nothing. We both resurface and I hear, “Matt, I could've killed you!”
“I know . . . I'm sorry. I had no where to go.” It's bad, no one's hurt, but I still need to be more careful on where and when to paddle out. Shortly after, I'm in a similar situation, but this time Christina is going left. I think I can get to her outside in time, but I end up in front of her. Again, someone has to step off her board to avoid dissecting me. FUUUUUCK! I apologize again. I'm better than this.
A little later Klaude paddles up to me and says, “I think I'm gonna grab my short board.”
“It's a little weak out here. I think you got the right equipment.”
“Yeah but . . . it's boring.”
I still don't have a ride under my belt that I can claim a turn on, but finally I get a peaky right hander. I see the shoulder before me as I drop in. I don't have good speed, but I force what I can off of the lip anyway. I hear a hoot from Klaude behind the wave. Koa's on the inside and says, “Got a little spray action on that one.”
“Yeah. . . . But I forced it. I should've just went down the line.”
It's about 1000 now, and it's still a marvelous day. It's odd that the wind is still so light, and there are still waves, even as I near my four hour mark of surfing. Christina and Cheryl are stoked out of their minds, but most of us sausages are complaining about the lack in power. Even so, I watch Koa get almost every wave he paddles for on his fish. My paddling muscles are spent, and I feel my body's yearn for nourishment. At 1030 we call the session, while Christina opts to spend the rest of the late morning on the beach. My last wave is a shouldery little left, the perfect way to cap off the surf. I make the drop and plan my line on the building section in front of me. I look ahead. It's Dais. Dejavu!
The rest of us slap cheeks and give hugs until the next DRC session. In the end, I'm glad I didn't go to HB. Surf progression is important but so are relationships, and sometimes it's hard to pit solo memories against memories with friends.
that guy who yelled the war paint comment.. maybe he knew you? there's been a lot of new faces at 26th Street lately though.... so i don't know.
ReplyDeleteTHE NECK CRANK!!! I FORGOT ABOUT THAT!!!!! hahahahahahahahahah shit was hilarious!!! you're right, no girl should wear that face unless giving birth!!! it works though!
it was just a day of wave buffet, and cutting off people was mandatory!!! so much fun!!! it's these days that make SoCal glimmer and sparkle a shine greater than any emerald.
I don't know. I usually remember faces, I think he thought I was someone else. Neck Cranking Christina . . . Or Christina, the neck cranker. How about The Exorcist? Like how the girl's head turns all the way around? It was a fun day, but we needed just a little more power, maybe another foot to make it one for the records.
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