SHOULD‘VE BEEN HERE YESTERDAY, SUN 25SEPT2011 MOR

Crew: Klaude, Christina, Tom
Time: 0700-0900, 2 hrs.
Conditions: Light onshore wind, overcast, high tide, 3-4 feet, consistent, but walled.

    Yesterday, Klaude and Rick told me that they would be surfing at Parks. Last night I sent out a mass text. Cheryl couldn’t make it, but Christina said that she’d be there.
   
    It’s about 0530 when I roll out of bed. I eat a banana, drink some OJ, and take my vitamins. Sunrise is much later due to the fall season. As I pull out of my parking space at 0600, it’s still a dark morning. When I pull up to 26th there are a couple cars parking on the street. I swing around the metered lots, and all the spots are taken. I find an open space on Marine, but before I can change I feel a monstrous shit coming on. I walk up to the 76 gas station wondering if they’ll let me use their bathroom.

    “Is the restroom open?” I ask the lady that’s sweeping around the pumps.

    She‘s a little startled because Manhattan Beach still looks like a ghost town. “Yeah,” she replies.

    The door doesn’t lock, but I plant my ass on the seat any way. My mission is to push this brown guy out before the lady can ponder if I’m taking a shit or not. I’m successful, but when I flush the toilet the water swirls slowly as it rises. My eyes widen as the logs get higher and higher near the rim of the toilet. I have to flush three times before they reach their destiny. All I leave behind is a small nug which is better than toilet overflow.

    I get to the 26th St. tower a little before 0700. It’s just as overcast as yesterday. There aren’t many surfers out yet, so I take my time warming up. Unfortunately, there’s a little onshore wind which puts some texture on the water. There’s some size, but most of the waves are walled. It doesn’t look that good, especially with the tide coming up, but I hope for the best. I don’t see any of my buddies in the water, but I turn around to see Christina walking down from the bike path. She tells me that yesterday was a little bigger, and there were peaks everywhere. I’m hoping that it wasn’t as good as she says because I hate to think that I missed out.

    By the time I paddle out, more people start trickling into the lineup. The current pulls north, but I fight to maintain my position in front of the tower. I’m sitting in the saddle between two peaks, but I don’t feel like going where the main packs are. I pass on numerous waves because they seem to be closing out. The first wave I get is a closing right which lets my get one sloppy turn off the lip before it comes down. It’s a picky morning.

    For the life of me, I can’t remember this guy’s name. I’m horrible when it comes to names. I turn around to see if I recognize anyone on the sand or in the water, but I only see Christina who’s drifted further north. I let out a deep exhale and tell myself to just concentrate on the ocean. Just then, a guy next to me asks me something.

    “Hey, are you the guy that writes the blogs?” he says.

    I’m caught off guard. I’ve never seen him out here before. He’s a brown guy, just like me, he has long hair, and he’s on a longboard. I smile and reply, “Yeah, that’s me!”

    “Cool. Good stuff. Keep it up.”

    “Thank you, man. This is like, only the second time that this has happened to me.”

    “Really?”

    “How’d you come across my blog?”

    “Oh, I read a blog where there’s a link to yours. I read other ones too. Whiffle Boy’s stuff. . . .”

    “Yeah, he asked me if I was Donny Duckbutter at Porto once.”

    “You see him around?”

    “Yeah, every once in a while. He surfs Porto.”

    “I read his stuff, but he doesn’t write so much any more. I read your blog when you went to Bali. I usually read it when I‘m at work.”

    We exchange names. He’s from Marina Del Rey. I thank him for the compliment. It’s nice to know that there are a couple people out there that actually check my blog.

    I see Christina walking on the sand to come back by the tower. That’s about the time that I catch a fun left. On a steep drop, my front foot accidentally slides forward all the way to the nose. The angle I’m dropping in at is sharp, and I have my hand in the wave struggling to regain balance. With this odd stance, I’m slowing down my speed and going down the face as its slowly crumbling. It’s not a breakthrough wave, but I just appreciate how it feels different. On another wave I pull off an imitation floater. It’s a left, and as the section’s about to close, I climb the face, get on top of it, and come down with the lip while still keeping my nose down the line. It’s not a “real” floater, but it’s a good start.

    Christina paddles up. She’s exhausted and says that she’s spent a lot of time on the inside. I tell her to do her best to turtle dive. She leaves to put money in her meter. When she returns, Klaude is with her on the sand. As soon as he paddles out, I paddle up to him and his friend Josh. It looks like Klaude’s telling him that I’m paddling up.

    I say, “What’s up, Josh right?”

    He says, “Tom.”

    Klaude says, “What? Did you say Josh? Damn, Matt.”

    Jesus, I’m so bad with names. I apologize. Tom confirms that yesterday was a really good day here. As we’re being told this, Klaude splashes me with water. I know. I fucked up with yesterday‘s decision. Klaude drifts north with the main pack trying to score the right-hander. The right is actually working, but there are just more people than I feel like being around. Same goes with the left to my south. I hear other people talking in the lineup about how yesterday there were waves for everyone. One guy says, “I’ve never been so tired surfing here, just from going back and forth so much.” Another grom says to his friend, “I surfed three sessions yesterday.” Damn, I guess it really was good.

    After my second hour I’m tired. My right shoulder bugs me a little, not to the point of pain, but I know that I’m on the brink of it. I catch one in to be safe. Christina’s on the sand meditating. I say bye to her. I don’t get a chance to say bye to Klaude and Tom.

    I’ve been dying for some good waves. This weekend barely sustains me. Since I’m not working this week, I hope to drive down south to score some good, solo sessions.