PLEASE INVENT WETSUIT TESTICLE HEATERS: TUE 3.08.2011 MOR

CREW: Solo

FLAKES OF THE DAY: None

RAN INTO: Ray

TIME: 0820 – 0950, 1 hr. & 30 min.

CONDITIONS: Sunny and warm on dry land. Water … cold as fuck! Disorganized, chest high, consistent.

     I woke up late. Surfing wasn’t the priority today, studying was, but when I woke up to see the unchallenged sky outside my window, I knew that I had to go to the beach. I woke up late, so I had to rush. I changed, grabbed my wetsuit and towel, and I was out the door. I could tell that there was off shore wind, but the morning was undeniably beautiful.

     As I pulled into the lot I didn’t see that many people in the line up. The tide wasn’t very high. In fact, I don’t know what the tide was doing, but it definitely wasn’t high; it was at mid level. The peaks were really lined and long with a couple corners here and there. Any time I saw that a shoulder was holding I also found an excuse to suit up and hit the water. So it didn’t look perfect, but there were waves out there, the sun was out, and surfing is the sustenance of my life, so how could I have just went home?

     I warmed up on the sand as I watched the consistent white water roar towards the shore. I tried to look for a channel, but it all looked the same. Warm and sunny day, right? WRONG! As soon as my feet touched the water my balls started to climb all the way up to my stomach. They said, “Fuck this shit!” Basically, my balls disappeared, never to return until I was at home taking a hot shower. There was no way I could’ve expected that, especially with the clear skies and warm rays. It was balls freezing cold. During my paddle out I did my best not to duck dive. I took the white water head-on until I got farther out where the waves were bigger. On my first submersion I felt my face go numb. On the third, I felt the bones behind my ears start to ache. By the third, even the nerves in my teeth were shivering. Three surfers were near by, all with booties, all with hoods. It made sense.

     Next, I scanned the bumps in the surface; there were a lot of them, but not all of them were good for riding. The peaks were just too long and ran out too fast. The bigger waves would look rideable, but they closed out once they got past the line up. The key was to go for the smaller waves, but I learned that later.

     My first wave was a straight-riding close out, nothing spectacular. I heard the surfer next to me yell. I looked up and saw a big right that was already breaking. I was sitting on the shoulder, and I managed to paddle into it despite the fast course it already had. As I dropped in, everything around me turned to white water, and I ate shit, back-planting on my board. Another wave pitched me over; it was a frustrating start.

     I got my first wave which was a left. I fought to stay ahead of the section, and I actually pumped my board to get to the open face, but by the time I got there the wave flattened out. The same thing happened for the next two rights: I popped up, pumped, and bottom turned up a dissipating face. It wasn’t just the conditions at fault. I did see some guys getting long rides, but I didn’t see how being on a bigger board would’ve helped me that much. Either the waves were big and closing, or they were fast on the drop in, but flattened on the inside. From my perspective, a good session wasn’t possible.

     I saw Ray in the lot as I was leaving. We both commented on the cold water, as I did with a guy that was waiting on the showers. I saw a surfer chic getting ready for her session. I told her, “Don’t let the sun fool you!” I was shivering so hard that she was laughing at me. The guy from the shower offered me a hot water jug. I thanked him, but I told him I’d be fine. It was a struggle to get out of my wetsuit. I could see how someone could sprain his numb fingers from prying on the neoprene.

     The good thing was that I wasn’t too tired to complete my reading assignments. Good session or not, I love starting the day in the water.

    

LIKE OLD TIMES: FRI 3.04.2011 MOR

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Ray
TIME: 0715 - 0845, 1 hr. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: Still overcast with a hint of light, chest to shoulder high, a little burgery, consistent with good surf only at main peaks, but still enough to go around.

    I got to Porto a little late, but I got a free parking spot on the hill at 45th. From that vantage point, I couldn’t really tell what the waves were doing, but I did see a lot of waves reforming on the inside and longboarders paddling about. High tide was a little close to 0830, so it was already getting a little “burgery” out there.

    I saw Ray in the lineup in front of 45th, battling it out with all the other heads out there. I made way to the tanks. I saw some clean lefts roll through 45th. It seemed that at least three surfers would try to go for the same wave each time. The longboarders were dominating, dropping in way early, ahead of anyone without enough board. There was an old guy on a longboard that I was sharing the peak with. I watched him paddle into waves that I had no chance of getting into, and he was going all the way to shore.

    I had to catch the waves late, but it was a brutal morning. I had at least three funky wipeouts which you wouldn’t expect on a mooshy day. For the life of me, I can’t remember any good waves that I got. I know I got one decent left, but I got a bunch of close outs, too. Ray paddled by and commented on the weird waves. I told him that it looked better than yesterday.

    This was one of those sessions where it seemed that everyone, except I, was getting fun waves. All I know is that when I got out of the water the parking lot was packed, and there were scattered peaks all over the place. It looked like old times, like the good old days when Porto seemed to always have some fun waves. It looked fun, just wasn’t my day.

A LOVE, HATE RELATIONSHIP: THU 3.03.2011 MOR

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: J
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0700 - 0900, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: A little icy, slight off shore wind, cloudy with a few peaks from the sun, shoulder to chest high.

    Since I would be working this weekend, I had to take any opportunity to paddle out. J asked me to surf at Porto in the morning with him. I intended to go to HB or even Trestles, but surfline gave Porto a “green” rating, so I thought I’d chance it by staying local.

    I text J as I warmed up my car at 0615. He never responded, so I headed to Porto to take a look. It was extremely overcast, but there were actually waves. The tide was mid-high to high, and shitters had the best peaks. I watched 45th and the tanks for a while, but the peaks looked a little “lined,“ so I considered heading to Parks since there was still no sign of J.

    I got parking at the top of the hill. Porto, yes, it’s usually better than Parks, but fuck paying for metered parking. For me, surfing around 26th St. is a way of sticking the middle finger to the City of Manhattan Beach and their damn price hikes at the meters.

    I made my way down to the gray overcast that hovered over the whole South Bay. The usual suspects took hold of the main break, but there were scattered peaks that placed everyone at good intervals. I decided to paddle out closer to 30th St.

    The water seemed just as cold as the water during my last session in Del Mar. The ominous gloom enveloped me like a crystal ball; it didn’t feel welcoming. I felt as if I was a runaway that left a broken home--living on the streets, indulging in depraved vices--only to return to an angry, drunk, and abusive parent. That parent was the South Bay. Thoughts of the past beatings I’ve received by her hand flashed through my mind each time my fingers entered her icy surface.

    I paddled way past the line up to feel her energy. It’s something I usually do when I get to the line; I never go straight for a wave; I like to see what’s breaking where and take account of my surroundings.

    This entry is a late one, so my memory is a bit fuzzy on the rides that I got, but I believe my first one was a left. The waves seemed to close out pretty fast, and the good waves seemed to appear out of luck. My timing was good when I paddled into it, and I was surprised to have an open face. I hit the lip and attempted to do a top turn, but my rail wasn’t set into the wave, so my turn was flat. Despite the slashing movement of my upper torso and arms, there was only a hint of spray on the lip. After that ride I reached an epiphany on how important it is to dig the rail into the wave. That’s another reason why I’ve had problems with my front side hacks: I’ve been top turning with just the bottom surface of my board, that’s why I usually stall on the lip and bog out. The rail … the rail needs to be in the wave first. If you generate a powerful turn by pushing on the tail while the rail is set, then you’ll gouge the face open which will result in some kind of spray. Well, of course it’s easier said than done. I think my backside developed first because I got comfortable trimming all the way up and down on that side first.

    I lost a perfect right. It was from a bigger chest to shoulder high set, but as I bottomed turn to go up the face I couldn’t manipulate the rail, so my board (with the speed of the wave) drove me up and out the back. Some other guys around me saw that I wasted a perfect, open shoulder. Embarrassing.

    I did get one good right. It was another open shoulder, and this time I felt how smooth and flowing a backhand ride could be with use of the back half of the rail. Things as simple as shifting your back foot into the right places, tilting the board with your front foot, bending your knees, springing up as you bottom turn, and pushing the tail into the lip, can turn a wave ride into something more, more than just a ride but something more expressive, something like art.

    My wave count wasn’t high, but I was happy with the couple of gems that I discovered through the sifting of the South Bay norm. I’ve been cheating on my home break, driving long distances for a better wave. For that session she didn’t seek retribution or punishment. Instead, I got more of the silent treatment or “cold shoulder.” The truth was that it was one of the better sessions that I had while surfing local for a while. It’s not fair to compare her to the soft, perfect, and open faces down south. But she’s always there waiting on me when I return, and she’s ready to give me all that she can offer.