MELLOW MONDAYS, MON 29AUG2011 MOR

Crew: Bionic J
Time: 0645-0800
Conditions: 2-3 ft., glassy, sunny, hot, walled with a few corners.



    Last night I planned on resting today, but J hit me up and said he’d be at Porto. I haven’t surfed Porto in a while nor seen J in a while for that matter. I have to.
  
    I’m not in surfer condition anymore. This third day in a row of waking up early isn’t so easy. I wake up to J’s text around 0615. I can’t be late. There’s no breakfast and no brushing my teeth. I grab the few supplies I need and head out the door. The sun’s out, and I spot J’s car before the bathrooms. He’s suited up, so I just tell him I’ll meet him in the water. I warm up for a couple minutes then paddle out. My body’s tired, but the sun over the horizon fills me with a sense of calm. In fact, the line up is the emptiest it’s been over the last three days. I forgot how mellow the Monday morning crowds are, especially with school back in session too. There’s actually room, silence, and peace. J and I catch up. I’m sorry to hear that his grandmother passed away during his weekend trip to San Fran. He’s a busy guy always on the move. Next weekend he’s going to Baja, and at the end of the month I’m trying to tag along when he goes again. Instead of conversing, I spend a lot of time just looking around. That moment of being overwhelmed that I talked about on Saturday, it didn’t happen then, but the morning is so inviting on this Monday. I’m blinded by the sun’s golden rays every time I face the shore. It’s warm. Seagulls pass over the smooth ocean surface. I can make out little trees and buildings in the foreground of the Santa Monica mountains. Enjoying the moment, I let go of everything. Nothing preoccupies my mind. For the first time in weeks I can just exist.

    With a weaker paddle, I’m more selective about when to punch it. I even kick harder with my feet to give me that extra push. I only use one arm during lulls to paddle back. I get a good left where my speed is the same as the wave’s. I top turn and redirect before the ride fizzles out. It’s hard not to feel good about that, even though it’s barely a three foot bump. J can’t believe how beautiful the morning is either. “I could just catch the 8:15,” he says. He goes back and forth debating on paddling in or catching a later bus. “I need to go.” He gets his last wave and leaves me at 0745.

    I get a wall of a right hander, but the face stays open before it bites. I turn off the lip as it’s coming down and stick the landing. Back at the lineup, a stranger says to me, “That was a good one.”

    “Yeah, good for one turn!” I met a guy named Chad Sayers in Bali while surfing a spot called Balangan. He told me that he was happy with his surfing, that he didn’t need to push himself. My brother told me that that was rare. With my current handicap, I’ve been trying to have that same attitude. I’ve spent the greater part of this year pushing my surfing, and it’s not a bad thing. But for now, especially given my situation, it feels good to hit the cruise button and just have fun catching waves. I can give some rides up, share, hoot other people on their waves, and be grateful every time I have one for myself.

    Leaving the ocean, I stare at the brightly lit sand from the morning sun. The day’s still fresh, and I’m never done this early. I spot a piece of kelp on the shore. It’s small, shiny, and slimy. It’s greenish yellow and I can’t stop staring at this thing as if it’s one of nature’s captivating wonders. Damn, I’m just so happy at this moment. Something as little as this means so much. I can’t believe how much surfing has an impact on my life.

ANOTHER SCORCHER, SUN 28AUG2011 MOR

Crew: WHC to our north, Francis, Klaude, Dave, and Christina.
Time: 0645-0900
Conditions: 2 ft., glassy, sunny, hot again.



    Last night I was on the verge of telling everyone that I couldn’t make it out. After yesterday, it’s an easy call for a lay day to heal. It’s just a struggle when you love surfing so much. Take it easy . . . for real. That’s my mantra for the day.

    I get to 26th a little bit later than yesterday, but the metered lots aren’t even opened yet. Surfers are already there, and there’s no free parking by the station. I park up the hill a bit as Francis pulls up right next to me. I inform him about the parking, so he grabs the last spot right behind me. He introduces me to his sister Berenice who’s in town visiting.

    As I’m changing, the two Amador brothers, minus Rick, pull up next to me. We talk for a bit before their two car convoy parks at the now opened meters. I give Manny and Chris their Bintang shirts. Finally, I have officially given away all of my gifts from Bali.

    Francis and I paddle out to the same spot as yesterday. I don’t know if we’ve qualified as locals yet, but we should be familiar faces by now. Out of a couple short rides, I finally get a right that lets me do a small top turn on. It feels good. Klaude’s on the shore warming up next to Berenice. Eventually, Dave and Christina show up too. We all drift a little south right in front of Jon’s camera set up. The surf isn’t as consistent as the day before, but the conditions are so nice that the waves are almost irrelevant. It’s a long wait, but I don’t care. Francis leaves, and Klaude paddles into the main pack to score a wave. Today’s approach is less aggressive so as not to aggravate anything. Christina steps up her performance during the weekend. She’s on the foamie which is a good choice for the conditions, but she’s more assertive in her wave selection instead of sitting there and wondering if she should paddle or not. Dave . . . Dave is the highlight of the whole weekend. He went from Death Wish Dave to One Wave Dave to just plain Dave. For the first time, his pop-ups are early and on point. Instead of seeing the board fly up in the air after the explosion, I’m watching him go down the line.

    I could stay longer, but the tide’s killing it. I avoid further tangible damage. I was injured for two weeks, but I made it just in time for this end of summer session. For me, this was the summer of surf; I‘ve never surfed so much in my life. It all started with pre summer camping trips, Bali training, Bali, surfing my brains out, and then finally an inevitable injury. My shoulder‘s still messed up, but I‘ll work through it eventually. Even though it‘s the end of summer it‘s not the end of surf. I hope the fall brings some good stuff our way.

THE RETURN, SAT 27AUG2011 MOR

Crew: Rick and friends, Klaude, Christina, Francis, Cheryl, Dave, and late appearances by DK, Khang, and Dais.
Time: 0630-0930, 3 hrs.
Conditions: 2-3 ft., glassy, sunny, hot.



Dry Walker:


    I’ve been injured for two weeks. I used to wake up around five in the morning. After the slap of the snooze button, the naked stumble in the dark to take a piss, walking back to turn off my buzzing alarm, and gathering my gear, I’d be off for a surf session. There’s nothing like it, starting the day in the water. Instead I’ve been sleeping in. What’s a surf bum to do? For the first couple days during the first week, I’d eat a bowl of cereal and sit in front of the TV with bed-head in my tattered boxers. I created lists of errands to keep myself busy. I even drove to Vegas with my little cousin to visit my mom whom I haven’t seen in months. Still, I had another week to get through. I didn’t bother with the surf report; it bummed me out to see what was happening in the water. My friends were there, letting me know how much fun they were having. The beach . . . I didn’t even want to see it. During my last week I resorted to gaming for long hours. The Billabong Pro Tahiti was on, so that occupied my time as well. For two solid weeks I let my shoulder recover. This Saturday’s the day. On Friday night I repacked my gear; everything was staged by the door. Finally, I could be human again.



Easy Does it:

    I had the hardest time sleeping last night. It’s exactly 0500, and as tired as I am I don’t even hesitate to start my naked walk. I peel my ass cheeks apart since they’ve fused together during the warm night. This morning’s special. I still eat a small bowl of cereal for fuel. I send out the bat signal to the DRC; I’m on the road. It’s 0545, and I score a parking spot right by the 26th St. lifeguard station. Not a leaf is in motion; the wind is calm. Francis and Rick text me that they’re on their way. There still isn’t a hint of light as I saddle up on a bench next to the pull-up bars. I can’t see what the ocean’s doing, but it looks small. It doesn’t matter. You’d expect a moment of spiritual enlightenment where a tear rolls down my face and I become overwhelmed with emotion. Instead, my keys keep falling out of my flimsy house shorts’ pocket, and the wood from the bench feels hard on my ass. 

     Back at the car, Francis pulls up and scores the last free spot. By then, people start filling up the metered parking, and black suits with long logs start filtering through the bottle-neck walkways to the sand. When we get to the beach, I tell Francis to go for it. He leaves while I take my time. I warm up for a solid ten minutes, which unfortunately is a rarity, but I’m fresh off an injury, and I need to take care of myself as much as possible. Jimmy, Dave, and Rick are out there warming up as well, but they take a preemptive measure to avoid the oncoming crowds by going towards 30th St.


   
Submersion:


    The water’s not too cool, but I’m glad I have a wetsuit. As I lie on my board and wonder about my right arm’s range of motion. I paddle, and it’s letting me move, but it’s like working with a fine piece of China that can be cracked and ruined by one small mishap. The board feels different; it’s my JS. I feel like it’s sinking more than before. I duckdive a wave, and the board feels like some kind of buoyant water toy, a new sensation. Francis has already picked off a couple waves, but I try to be patient and wait for one with shape. I finally go for a left that closes out. It still counts I guess. I can still paddle and pop up, so it’s progress for the morning.

    By the tower I can see Klaude and Christina. The sun’s cleared the Manhattan hills, the sky’s bare naked, and it’s warming up. Also, more and more people start to show. Despite the thickening crowd, a peaky left rolls my way without any takers. It’s fast, and as I pop up some of the locals are watching in envy that they’re not on it. Well, it’s too bad that I have center stage because my nose purls while I’m pumping on the face. I have speed, so I indo, get hurled forward, and plunge into the shoulder. I hear a random “Wooooh!” for my wipeout. I spend the next ten minutes cursing myself for losing such a good ride.

    Cheryl and Dave emerge from the growing throng of surfers. We have presence with our crew. I’m getting waves, we all are, but I’m not getting any real turns in; I’m rusty. At the two hour mark my shoulder starts to hurt. There’s something in my paddle, like there’s a notch in my rotator cup, and every time I go over it it’s causing discomfort. My paddle widens out to change the motion a little. I should get out now, I think to myself. But it’s such a perfect day, and I don’t surf for only two hours. Who surfs for only two hours?

    We’re almost at the three hour mark, and Khang, Dais, and DK show up. I catch two more waves and say my goodbyes to them. At this point I’m in pain. We all part ways, and I’m grateful that so many people came out for this end of summer sesh. Back to what I was saying earlier: “Who only surfs for two hours?” Instead, who only surfs for two hours with a bad shoulder? I know who . . . a fucking idiot. It hurts again to reach over with my right arm to turn the steering wheel. Yeah, three hours was definitely too much. I stretch as soon as I get home. It’s not a total relapse, but it’s too much strain too soon. I need to learn to pace myself. Despite the day’s pain, sitting on my couch again, I’ve retained that feeling that I’ve missed so much. I could sit enveloped by these cushions for hours. I’m hungry, but I’m too tired to get up. I’m . . . surfed the fuck out. I can do jack shit for the rest of the day if I want; it doesn’t matter because I got my surf in for the morning. I’ve missed it, the water, the ritual, everything. I’m wet again.