THIS USED TO BE MY PLAYGROUND, MON 06FEB2012 MOR

Crew: Fransauce

Time: 0830-1000

Conditions: High to mid tide, offshore, 5 ft+, WALLED.

     I haven’t seen Francis for a while, so when he said he was surfing this morning, I had to join him. Shan hit me up too, so I told him where we’d be at.

     I have to drop off my sister at the airport for her annual trip to Maui, so I head to 26^th right after. I see Francis’ truck parked by the lifeguard station. After circling around for parking, I finally change and make my way down the hill. Even though I’m far from the ocean, I see Francis on his board with the red trim; it’s so easy to spot. He’s going frontside, pumping furiously down the face of a fast, racy wave. When we meet up, he tells me about his recent trip to Pacifica. Apparently, the water’s twice as cold over there and the waves twice as big. The crowd’s not too bad, which isn’t a surprise because a good wave hasn’t come our way yet. To our north a big right seems to be working. I say “seems” because waves always look better wherever you’re not sitting. Even to the south, the left by Marine looks better. None-the-less, we stick to our guns . . . or should I say, I stick to mine because Francis drifts south, and I don’t see him for the rest of the morning, but before he left he said, “I don’t think I’m gonna stay out here much longer.”

     I try . . . I really try to make the best out of things. There is size; that’s definitely not an issue, but maybe there’s too much size? It’s a shame that this sand bar can’t hold 5-6 feet. The walls don’t look like they have shoulders, but I want them so bad that my mind tells me I have a chance. On every wave that I pop-up on, I can only go straight. On the way back out, a three-wave clean up set comes through. It’s been a while since I’ve took some on the head like this. My brother would be ashamed, but they are so dumpy and easily six feet, that I ditch my board and go under. I usually try to duck, but I’m right in front of the lip. 

     Everyone has the same look on his face: the disappointed lowering of the brow, the look at the watch to kill time, the pointless paddle a couple feet over, and the aimless gaze at the sky. Nope, the surf/shape gods aren’t answering today. On my last closeout, I figure it’s not worth another go-round. I love surfing, and I need to be in the water, but sessions like this do nothing for me.