THE RETURN TO PORTO, FRI 30SEPT2011 MOR

Crew: Solo
Time: 0700-0930, 2hrs & 30 min
Conditions: Overcast, onshore wind, low tide, 3 ft with occasional 4, a little walled with a couple shoulders, kind of crowded.


Intro:

    After a skunktastic Wednesday, I had a chance to check out Porto Thursday evening after school. I was surprised to see how big and consistent the sets were coming in. However, the low tide seemed to make for walled-up conditions. I debated on paddling out. It was quite the spectacle. I missed the big swell a couple weeks ago, and I haven’t seen Porto this big in a while. I watched guys try to make the shoulders. Some did, but most could only go straight. It looked like a brutal afternoon. Instead, I went home and planned on saving myself for Friday morning. I thought it a wise decision to catch the tide a little higher and paddle out when the water’s nice and glassy. After the funky luck I’ve had lately, I thought I would be due up to score.


The Return:

    The recent surf trip followed by a full day at school has me too tired to get up when my alarm first goes off. I snooze until 0630. Shan called me last night, a guy I haven’t seen since I left for Bali. He said he was down to surf in the morning and asked me to bring his stuff that he left during the last camping trip. Khang told me he’d meet me out there too. It’s 0630 by the time I’m sipping my coffee. I’m running late. It’s another gloomy morning, and I’m hoping to score some decent South Bay surf. Clearly, I’m due up. The thought surfaces again that I haven’t truly caught any awesome surf since being back from Bali, and the recent shoulder injury has been another regressing factor as well. Clean, smooth, consistent shoulders, at least three feet high, that’s all I want.

    It’s been a long time since I’ve surfed Porto. I usually hit up Parks, but I like catching Porto during the work week. The crowd is thinner and the energy more mellow. Also, I love when the surf gets good; sometimes there are little peaks forming all the way past the tanks, in front of the smoke stacks, and on both sides of the jetty. A classic Porto morning, that’s what I’m yearning for.

    The lot’s already packed, but I still get a spot well before the bathrooms. Looking at the Manhattan homes, I see the leaves of palm trees lightly swaying from the wind. I look out and can see that the onshore wind is messing with the shape a little. The size has dropped off a bit, it’s still a little walled, but I watch guys in the prime spots get some nice looking rides.

    I haven’t paddle out at the Porto lineup in a while. The morning crowd is a little thick, so I feel really awkward paddling in the center of them. I recognize about ten faces, but I still feel like the new guy that’s had his Porto pass revoked. On top of that, I’m wearing my really loud Hurley wetsuit while everyone else has the standard black; I’m sticking out. Besides the groups that know each other, a lot of surfers are solo. The energy is off: no smiles, not many people conversing, the silence reeks of wave-lust, and no one cares for eye contact. Despite the lack of words, what everyone’s thinking is obvious.

    I have to back out of a couple waves because there are guys owning the take off spots. I don’t feel like competing, especially after I haven’t shown my face for a while, so I paddle further north by the tanks. I catch a couple closeouts to start things out, no significance. My third wave holds shape a little, and on my backhand I’m able to kiss the lip before it smacks down. I recover nicely and ride the foam; it feels good. I’m hungry for lefts, but only rights are coming. My kingdom for a left, I think to myself. On my last wave before I feed the meter, I get a long backhand ride all the way to shore. My feet are too far forward, so my turns lack that emphatic umph. I feed the meter and come back out for more.

    I meet a guy named Bruce that just moved to Gundo from working in Puerto Vallarta since 2004. I love getting good energy from people in the lineup. He says that over the last half-decade he’s scored small, clean, and empty point breaks with only him and his buddies out. I don’t understand why he’d leave that, but he says, “There’s no money there right now. Everyone’s scared to come down."

    An outside set comes which produces a perfect right-hander. The peak is long and walled, but the shoulder tapers off into a corner. I watch a guy in position take off on the wave. He’s a lucky bastard. So there are good waves to be had, you just have to be lucky or be in the right place. Right after, a juicy left pops up on the outside. I’m a little late for it, but I turn & go. As I prepare to pop up, I hear a couple hoots from the crowd, but I’m too slow. I stand too far up on the nose which purls my board straight into the water. When I resurface I’m embarrassed; I choked in the spotlight. I can either laugh it off out loud, say something in frustration, or just paddle back to the lineup with my head down. I return and sit quietly. What else can I do? I blew it.

    The meter’s almost out, so I paddle back by 45th to be closer to my car. I see another acquaintance, Steve, who’ve I’ve met out there. He tells me that the last couple days have been good. There’s my luck for you. I catch an average wave in. Shan calls and says that he couldn’t make it because he has to be in the office early. Khang texts me later and says that he showed up at around 0900.

    I wish I had more to write, something groundbreaking, but this is just how surfing has been for me lately. I’m sure everyone goes through this. I can’t blame the conditions entirely. I’m just in this surf slump. Hopefully next week I can score at least one good day before Baja to get me ready.