NOT MUCH, WED 7.27.2011 MOR

I doubt Francis had to piss as bad as I did, but he's relieved.

     “That's what friends do . . . they show up.” – Klaude K. 

 

Crew: Francis

Time: 0800-0945, 1 hr. & 45 min.

Conditions: Offshore wind turning to side shore, overcast, cool, 1-2 ft., weak, a very long wait for 3 ft.

    Francis lent me some of his surf porn yesterday. Out of the movies he gave me, I was most stoked about The Bruce Movie. He's the first guy I've met that has it, and I can't wait to watch it. I let him borrow three movies, selling Modern Collective as the best one. The plan was to rest on Wednesday. I didn't feel like driving to HB three days in a row, and I knew that local surf would be flat. Last night at 2205 I got a text from Francis asking if I wanted to surf tomorrow. This guy's more of a fiend than I am, I thought. I wasn't up for it, but I told him I'd check it out with him if he was going. As Klaude says, "That's what friends do . . . they show up."

Surfed Out:

     My hand takes over as it repeatedly hits the snooze button. There's no way that I'm getting up at 0630. At about 0700 I wake up to Francis's call. I answer and say, “What's up?” trying my best to not sound sleepy.

     “I'm leaving right now,” says Francis. The guy sounds stoked and ready to hit the water.

     “Okay, I'm getting up right now. I'll meet you there.”

     It's another banana breakfast morning. Just as I start my car I get another call from him. “I'm at Porto right now, there's like two feet on the sets.”

     “Okay, I'll be there in like two minutes.”

     “Whoa, but I'm surprised with how crowded it is. There's like . . . forty five people in the water. Meet me at 26^th!” I suppose it's not a bad call. I'm on 31^st St. when he calls again to let me know that there's free parking by the lifeguard station.

     On the way to the sand we can see two peaks working on both sides of the tower. They look around two feet and soft, but they are rideable. “So you liked Modern Collective?” I ask.

     “Yeah, it was good! I liked Dane Reynold's surfing.” We go on about our favorite parts of the movie.

     “I bet it made you want to surf, huh?”

     “Yeah, that's why I tex'd you last night!” he says. At this point it makes sense. It's a damn good surf flick, and he got so stoked watching it last night that there was no way in hell he wasn't surfing today.

     My body's tired. I feel my back muscles; they are sore. They want time to heal, but I keep on working them, stopping short of one-hundred percent recuperation. We paddle out right in front of the tower, and I get a clean two-foot left. I'm stoked to get a nugget on a dismal day of surf. The wave is significantly weaker than HB, slopy, but I manage to pump, do a novice cutback, and stay where the power is. The longboarders watch. They must be thinking that we're crazy for coming out on small boards, but yet I'm on a wave. The lulls aren't long in the beginning. For the first hour there is enough consistency to keep us busy, but the waves are weak. I see Francis get some spray. I try to set up for a turn, but I just don't feel the speed to do so. On a right, I force a top turn on a wave that's the opposite of “standing up.” I don't know what I'd call that. A wave that's “lying down” perhaps? Well, I fall because there was no real lip to bash in the first place.

     After the first hour, the lulls are noticeably longer. We sit, drift, paddle back, sit amongst the other surfers, and wait. “I don't think you'll be surfing like Dane Reynolds today,” I tell Francis. He laughs, but we both know that the morning's surf is pretty much shot in the ass. Despite the lull, Francis catches a decent right. He paddles back just in time for another random right that's forming. I paddle for it, but he takes that one again. He's on fire. After the next lull, another right comes. He's in position for it, but he passes it up so I can take it. Unfortunately I'm out of position for it. He didn't have to do that, but it's nice that he's sharing.

     He says he's ready to call the session. I agree. Just then the wave of the day appears. Most of this morning's peaks are long, but this one is well defined and forming into a fun, steep drop. An old, local longboarder, who always wears shades, is in between us. As Francis and I scrape our way into the wave, the local guy decides to give up and let us have it. I'm grateful. I look back and see Francis going left. Coast clear! I go right and set up my top turn with a delayed bottom turn. I have no technique for timing. If the wave is good, it just feels right to shoot up the face at a certain moment. I may be too excited. I top turn, but I don't believe there is momentous spray. Nonetheless, it feels good, best wave so far this morning. I set up for another top turn but stall after I hit the lip. That wave makes the session worth it.

Boy Toy:

     From there I struggle to find the cherry on top. Francis found it a while ago and rides the inside while he waits for me. I get a right. The section's long and about to close out. I force a turn, but the wave's already foam. We go back to our cars to change. I damn near piss my pants while getting out of my wetsuit. I put on my shorts that are falling from my waste and go to the restroom. A tiny stream of piss escapes. Please don't show through my shorts. I don't have a shirt on, but I shaved my pubes a couple days ago, so I'm not “mushroom clouding” it above my waist line. The guy cleaning the bathroom is nice enough to let me piss. I accidentally let a fart out, but he says nothing, a true professional. As I'm walking out, there is a huge, fat, Black chick that's on community service, pitch black. She's staring at me as I walk out. It's awkward. I say, “Good morning.” Her gaze follows me as I pass, and I hear her say, “Good moor-neeeeeeeeeeeng. Mmmmmmmmmm.” I'm blessed with the appetite of a tyrannosaurus, but God has also cursed me with situations like this. Growing up, my friends got the hot chicks. Me? I got attention from girls I wasn't attracted to. Of course, don't get me wrong. I'm sure she's a nice person, and whatever she did to get on community service was nothing major. I'm sure she makes a damn good pumpkin pie too. Anyway, tomorrow is the real deal, the first pulse of the new swell. What, oh what, will happen?