OLD MAN AND THE SEA, FRI 03FEB2012 MOR

Loc: PV

Crew: Solo

Time: 0830-1000

Conditions: High tide, 3 feet, glassy, walled, soft, inconsistent.

     Last night Khang told me he’d surf 26^th today. I originally intended to check the surf closer to 0800 when the tide went down, but since Lauren got home at about 0630, I thought I’d just wake up. 

     There was definitely size at 26^th. I stood on the run path and looked at it for a while. It was a solid four-to-five, but the shape was a little mooshy and walled. There seemed to be a lot of people out there. It’s so much better when the peaks are tighter, but there were these long, wallie, unattractive lines. There seemed to be more surfers than the shape allowed, so I went to Porto next. I haven’t surfed here in a while. It amazes me how much I used to love this spot, but now when I drive through it seems so packed and condensed. It’s already worse enough that you have to pay to surf here. I’d say the shape was a hair better. There were rides, but a lot of people sitting on the sand bar. I watched a couple guys get dropped-in on, but in Porto’s defense, in front of the bathrooms, a big, clean left broke on the outside and went unridden. Rosecrans looked the cleanest to me. The left was working nice and standing up similar to HB, but it was pretty crowded. My energy’s been lame lately, and I really didn’t feel like being in the middle of a pack, so I gambled on PV.

     As I drove further south, the swell seemed to get smaller and smaller. I noticed the difference in size when I drove by Manhattan Pier, and the little nooks and crannies where I could see the ocean in Hermosa looked like the surf was tiny. I stopped by Hags, and there were only three guys out on the north end—nothing. Overlooking The Cove, I joined two old-timers. There were only five longboarders in the lineup, and it looked two-to-three feet. “You gonna do it?” I asked one of them.

     “I don’t know. It looks a little too weak for me.” 

     “Yeah, I just came from Porto and 26^th. I didn’t really like the shape down there.”

     “I just came from there too. Rosecrans looked like it had a nice peak, but it was crowded.”

     As he left, I talked to the second old timer. He said, “You know, the tide’s coming down. It might get better.” He actually pointed out where Indicators was. Further south, wrapping around The Cove, there’s another point by a bunch of rocks, and I could see that the left was working. 

     “It looks like there’s a couple guys out there,” I said. When I turned to address him, he was gone. I suited up and made the walk down. It was another session without expecting much, but I had scored all three times I’ve been here. Initially I explored a different trail that led down to a sharp, rocky drop-off that would’ve made the paddle out shorter, but I reconsidered when I imagined climbing those rocks on the way back in. The air was cool and chilly from the north wind, but once my feet touched the water I felt warm.

     I sat in my usual spot: bottom of the wave, wide of the main peak. I got some waves right away, but the shape was not cooperating. Every time I popped up, the section in front of me was already spilling away. I caught a good amount, but most of them were straight-shots. There was one wave, just one wave that I could claim a turn on. Surprisingly, the shoulder was critical and steep, but the inside just softened it up too much. 

     The sun made its way over the cliff, and everything about the place was gorgeous. There was serenity, isolation, and a very light crowd to share it with. With all the personal issues in my life, it was nice to sit in silence and reflect. It would’ve been better if there were waves, but who has control over that?

     The best thing about the session was the walk back up. With the sun on my back, the quietness of the nature around me, and the high vantage point of the rocks below and whole South Bay in the distance, I felt centered in the moment. With only the sound of your footsteps, it’s hard not to feel at peace. Back at the car, the old timer was packing up. “Not that bad out there.” he said.

     “Yeah, there were some fun ones.” I didn’t want to be a buzz kill.

     “It actually got better.” There was a long pause while he strapped his longboard to the roof. “And when that sun comes out . . . it’s like heaven.” 

     I was unsure if he was talking to me. He wasn’t looking at me, but I was the only one around. That stuck to me a little. There I was, berating the surf in my mind, taking my youth and time for granted perhaps? That old man, bald, wrinkled, and eyebrows white as powder, he was the one truly living out of the both of us.