TURQUOISE, SAT 10SEPT2011 MOR

Crew: Rick & the WHC, Klaude, Dais, and Cheryl
Time: 0700-0930, 1 hr. & 30 min.
Conditions: 1-2 feet, weak, inconsistent, high tide, overcast, cool, with periods of light showers.

    Last weekend I got to 26th before 0600, and the surf was no good. This morning, I decide to sleep in and go later. After all, showing up at the butt-crack of dawn doesn’t guarantee good waves. Especially after getting skunked last weekend, it seems like a good idea to change the routine. Only one problem with this plan, all the free parking’s gone once I get here. It’s been a while since I did the meters, so I pull in without grumbling about my forced donation to Manhattan Beach. I call Klaude, and he’s heading towards free parking further away.

    After yesterday’s surf, my shoulder bothers me a little, but I go for it anyway. It appears to be a beautiful morning minus the blinding glare from the east. While warming up, I see a guy on a gray fish milking a long ride out of a crumbly left; it’s Rick. “Rick!” I yell over the sound of whitewash. He scans and finds me waving.

    Walking to the water, I wait for the lull since it’s crowded, and I don’t want to be anyone’s speed bump. The usual locals are here: Don, Don’s buddy, and another one of Don’s buddies. Unfortunately I don’t know all their names, but their faces are all too familiar at this spot. Rick points out where his brother Manny is and the rest of their crew. “You should have got here earlier,” he says. “It was much better when the tide was lower.” I see what he means. The waves are rideable, but they’re already mooshing out. I expect catching a wave to become harder in the next half hour.

    Klaude and Dais are by the tower stretching. I manage to get a couple quick rides, but it’s another turnless morning. I blame the conditions, but Don and his crew have been getting nice rides. Also, Rick’s crew aren’t push-overs either. They all get waves: Jack, Chris, Dave T., and of course Manny. I think about how surfing next to those guys makes my surfing look like shit, but I also understand that it’s what I need.

    Rick leaves shortly after KK and Dais paddle out. It’s a little crowded, but as the morning progresses, there are only small patches of surfers left. There aren’t many rides, but we don’t try to push or force the issue. We carelessly bob in place, and when guys at other peaks catch waves we merely watch without envy or disdain. We paddle for waves that don’t break until they’re in the shallows. Cheryl has the best chance out of all of us, but she purls on three waves in a row. She has a rip in the crotch area of her wetsuit. Bad luck I guess.

    The sky grows darker, and I notice a disturbance on the water’s surface. I’m in denial at first, but it’s clear that it’s raining. It’s a morning without waves, but God damn, what a beautiful spectacle. Four marauders, close friends, surfers, in a turquoise pool. We all chime in on what we’re experiencing. Klaude notices the clarity of the water. So do I. I can’t see the bottom, but my submerged body and board may as well be in an aquarium. Despite the gray on the horizon, the ocean still sustains a tropical presentation. I don’t know why we’re so quiet. Our own interpretations in our minds, speech is unnecessary. The shower doesn’t last. Klaude paddles south to try his luck. When he leaves I get three waves back to back, but they’re still tiny boggers. It’s almost 0930, and my meter’s up. I give my regards and paddle in.

    So why? Why on a day with barely any waves, a small day at that, does this morning’s surf resonate with me? That bracket of time when the rain started and stopped, that was just a rare gift given to us. The scenery and emotions leave me at a loss for words. The crowds left while those with patience received a small peck on the cheek from Mother Ocean. I guess you just had to be there.