WHY DOST THOU SNAKEST?, FRI 09SEPT2011 EVE

Crew: Solo
Time: 1830-1930, 1 hr.
Conditions: 1-2 feet, inconsistent, high tide, light onshore wind, clear skies, warm.



    While running errands, I stop by at Porto for an afternoon check. It’s a little after 1500. The tide bottomed out a little while ago, and the onshore wind’s a little strong. Regardless, there are still some little two foot peaks sprouting up everywhere. I drive further down the lot and see a freak, chest-high set roll through. I stop, send a text out to let everyone know, and then I continue with my business. The conditions aren’t clean, it’s a little crumbly, but it still looks good enough for some fun little rides.

    After bringing my niece home from middle school, I shoot straight for Porto for another look. There’s still some wind, but it’s not howling. Along Vista Del Mar I can see long peaks with little shoulders at the end. I hope for a little more definition at 45th. As I make the right turn at Chevron, I see numerous surfers and the first wave of a small set breaking. The low sun gives everything an orange glow. I notice a free parking spot to my right. There’s no way I’m not surfing today.

    With a free spot, I take my time changing. The breeze on my face and through my hair feels like California. The hard pavement under my bare feet has some familiar significance; it’s routine. A dozen surfers linger in the parking lot. Two guys wait to use the shower. We’re all strangers but here to share something similar. A hundred sensations over a short walk and a deep exhale at the water’s edge. A whole day has passed, and finally I’m where I belong.

    A short warm up and a scope of the scene, there are a lot of heads despite the lack of surf. The surfer I’ve labeled over the last couple years as “The Rastafarian” is out there putting on a show. On the inside he sticks a small, front-side, aerial 360. I’ve gotten over envying him. My wetsuit shields me from the thousand needle shock, but I find that it’s not that cold. Each stroke is slow, my hands enter unhindered, and my palms slide down as if with a painter’s brush. I find my position and am grateful overall just to be. The high tide makes the waves break late. Somehow I’m fortunate to get one to myself. No tricks, no turns, just going down the line. A span less than two seconds makes the whole day. How is that?

    It’s consistent at first. I catch a small handful, but the sections are crumbling away before I can get to the end. A longboarder invades my space. I feel uncomfortable but try to let go of the negative. I go right. I’m on his inside, and he still goes any way. It’s a slow wave, I tell myself. No biggie. Again, another right comes. I’m kicking and wearing my best paddling face. There’s no way he can’t hear me. I pop up, and there he is; we’re sharing the wave. When the ride’s over I check to see if he’ll look back. I’m looking because I want him to see me, and then I stop. I turn, put my chin in my board, and head back to the line up. I think of all the things I can say. I size him up, eye his foam board and his tattoos. Douche bag, I’m thinking. I wipe him out of my mind and attempt to re-center.

    The sun’s been down, and the line up gets dim. Someone next to me says, “Hey, sorry about those couple waves earlier.”

    I turn, and it’s the guy. “Oh yeah. It’s cool. There‘s not much out here anyway; I couldn‘t catch you.”

    “No, because I’ve seen you here before. I saw you the other day catch one all the way to the sand-”

    “Ohhhhhhh,” I interrupt. It hits me that he’s talking about Tuesday when I ass-planted in ankle deep water.

    “Yeah, and you just like, fell right there. I’m Pete by the way.”

    “Matt.” We talk a little. I tell him how I messed up my shoulder, and he sounds genuine when he asks how it is now. Pete turns out to be one of the nicest guys I’ve met out there. Reality check: I’m the douche bag. I feel like an asshole for all the horrible things I was thinking earlier. I don’t preach God much, but sometimes these situations seem that they’re meant to happen. But also, life throws you moments like this sometimes.

    Again, it’s a “beginning to end” session, where the whole experience is appreciated and not so much the waves themselves. Changing in the dark, a car waits to take my spot. Driving home with the music on, I feel complete.