SHIVER ME TIMBERS, MON 8.01.2011 MOR

Classic Fransauce

Crew: Christina & Francis

Time: 0745-0945, 2 hrs.

Conditions: A little onshore wind, sunny, cool, inconsistent, weak, 2 feet.

     Francis ended up going to County Line yesterday, and he said he got skunked. That seems to be the theme as of late. I'm not venturing anywhere for a while. I think I'll stay local and play it safe. Maybe it's a better idea to sneak up on good surf instead of making it announced, but for now I'm saving money on gas.

     To my surprise, there's free parking everywhere. I guess the lack of swell has everyone elsewhere. I score a spot on 27^th on top of the lot. Francis and Christina drive by and park. I reach in my bag to prep my gear, but motherfucker, I forgot my fucking wetsuit at home. Shit. Is that payback for Klaude freezing his ass off on Saturday? I didn't enjoy watching him freeze, but I did shake my head at his decision not to bring his wetsuit. Oh well, it's my turn this time.

     I tell Francis how the waves were good yesterday, but this morning the waves are weak and a bit smaller. I touch the water. Cold. I paddle out and get fully submerged. Shock. The sun is burning through a small patch of clouds. It feels so good on my back, but the water's winning the war over my body temperature. I put my arms over my head to avoid them from chilling, but I know it's going to be rough.

     Christina's friend joins us. I forget his name, but he looks like a “Ned.” He looks like one of the cartoon characters from Phneas and Ferb. His head is shaped like the dude in the front of this picture. I'm not making fun of the guy, but it's just my first impression. Christina and Ned end up further South. Francis and I catch a couple waves here and there. He's catching much more than I. I do my best to stay busy. I'm fucking cold. Once I start shivering it's over. Francis says, “Do this.” He puts his hands together, curls his top knuckles down, and rubs his fingernails against each other.

     “This?” I mimic his action. “It's not working!” I can't remember shit from this session. My perspective is off. If you've ever watched footage from a bad camera that doesn't have image stabilization, that's what I see. I scan the horizon for waves, and everything is shaky. I like to interact with my friends when we surf, but I'm silent because I'm suffering.

     Francis sees me turning into ice. “Do this,” he says again. He does the same motion with his hands.

     “This?” I do it again. “You're fucking with me aren't you?”

     “No, the locals up north used to tell me to do that. It keeps your mind off the cold.” I hate being a pussy and freezing like this. It wouldn't be so bad without the wind. Maybe I'm still adjusting to being away from Bali conditions. 

 

     Christina returns to us, where she rightfully belongs, and says to me, “I'm surprised you lasted this long.” Well, not any more. I call the last wave in. Francis invites me over for Japanese food that Nicole just made, but I've cleared my schedule to clean my filthy apartment. Christina says she'll probably opt out of surfing tomorrow, and tells us about Power Yoga in Santa Monica. Maybe one day. As much as I want to say, “It was a great session, I'm glad I paddled out,” I can't. But I can say that I'm happy I got to see Francis. I haven't seen him in a while, and it's always good to surf with friends. At least people showed up. Our surf group is pretty strong right now. Hallelujah.