MAYBE WE SHOULD'VE STAYED LOCAL, SUN 7.31.2011 MOR

Crew: Christina & Klaude

Time: 0740-0940, 2 hrs.

Conditions: Onshore wind early which calmed into the second hour, overcast but turned sunny, choppy but with consistency, 3 foot surf, unexpectedly fun.

My view from behind the bar on barbacking detail.

My best friend hard at work

     This weekend so far is a blur. I'm wiped from all the surfing, all the driving, and to top it off, I had my best friend's party to go to last night. He had a taco man there. I killed off ten, deliciously authentic Mexican tacos. The Al Pastor was the best. I got home around midnight already committed to the morning paddle out with Klaude.

     

    My alarm goes off at 0600, but I keep hitting the snooze button. Klaude finally gives me a wake up call. We discuss our rendezvous and agree that there's no rush this morning. This whole swell is hitting better down south, at least that's what the experts lead us to believe. We're surfing the South Bay which isn't getting much of the brunt. Our expectations are next to nothing, and we're paddling out for the sheer fuck of it.

     On Vista Del Mar I spot Klaude's van in front of me. I pass him up, throw him a shaka, and head to Parks. There's no free parking today, so we go to the lots. We take a look for what the morning has in store. There are waves, but the wind is on shore, the water's choppy, and the peaks look crumbly overall. Francis is a no show, and Christina's on the way. Klaude and I walk out to the tower. It's overcast, so the lineup's not too crowded. Once we paddle out and sit, the waves look different from our new perspective. Sure, the conditions aren't clean, but these choppy waves coming through have a little size. Even better, it's fuckin' consistent. So what, not all of them have shape, but a few do, and enough are coming down the assembly line to score a shoulder or two.

     Klaude gives me my first official introduction to Don, a true, dedicated local at 26^th St. Every time I'm here he's here. You can't miss him. He's an older, light skinned Japanese guy with long hair, and he rips. And then again . . . there are a lot of older Japanese guys with long hair that surf here.

     It doesn't take long for Klaude and I to get our wave count in. We're both scoring lefts and rights. I don't get many turns down, but we're catching so many waves that I don't give a shit. It's so much better than yesterday's surf. Christina shows up and paddles by us, but the current takes her south and away, and then the unexpected happens. The sun comes out and the fucking wind dies. Just like that, the conditions get pristine. By all means, the water's not perfectly glassy, but the chop settles a bit. Klaude and I talk about how Francis is missing out.

     It's a two hour session, and I can't remember any significant rides for the life of me. All I know is that it was worth it. I was stoked to have scored and stoked to have caught it with a couple of good friends. 26^th St., with it's poor conditions that were forecast, turns out to be our surf savior for the day. Traveling to surf is good, but sometimes you have to have faith in your local breaks. Godspeed.