GOOD FRIENDS AND L&L, 02MAR2012

Crew: Rick & Dave T.

Time: 0645-0850

Conditions: Inconsistent, but really consistent on the inside. 3-4 ft., mooshy.

     Rick wakes me up at 0550 with his text. “R u up?” He writes. I’m tired, but I hit the snooze button anyway. Minutes after waking up at 0615, he calls me. He says that Porto is “OK.” He says that he’s seen it better, but it’s worth a paddle out. I grab my gear and head out the door. I haven’t had much luck at 26^th, so 45^th seems like a good option. When I pull up, I find an empty spot on 45^th. It means that I can only surf until 0900, but that’s better than having to come back in just to feed the meter at 0800. 

     The tide is a little high, but the conditions are clean, and it looks like there are some sets breaking towards the outside. I send out a text to Francis and Shan, letting them know that Porto looks good. 

     When I’m on the sand I see Rick parked. He’s changing, and he doesn’t see me. I approach close enough for him to notice me flagging him down. From there I start warming up.

     Dave T. and Rick come walking on the sand. Dave has a new board. It’s shaped like a traditional thruster but it has a lot of meat on it. Rick looks at my DMS and says, “Matt, you’re gonna need a bigger board.” Again he goes with the lecture. At least he doesn’t specifically say I need a fish, now he tries to disarm me by saying, “Bigger board.” I laugh it off. He’s great as a surf mentor, and I don’t know any guys his age that rip harder than him.

     “Don’t worry, Rick. Have faith in me,” I reply. 

     Because of the tide, or maybe even the swell, the waves are breaking far out. I’d like to think I’m a strong paddler, but it’s taking forever to get to the lineup. Rick and Dave are catching up behind me, so the pressure’s on to avoid ridicule for this morning’s board selection. I just worked out my shoulders last night, so my muscles are burning. 

     It takes a while, but we make it to the lineup. There is potential in the morning’s surf. A peak more to our south seems to be giving consistent lefts, but there are a lot of people there. The first waves that hit our spot look like they have shape but close out. We all start off with similar waves that are good for a couple pumps before dumping. On the way back to the lineup, I see Rick get a really long left. It actually stands up enough that the face is going hollow, but Rick is more shoulder oriented, so he’s not even looking behind him. He gets at least two check turns on the face and kicks out. 

     Wave of the Day:

     I’m surprised that I’m paddling into these mooshy waves on the DMS. My board is so chippy, but the waves have enough power to let me in easy. I get a right that’s fast and lined-up, but I’m too far in front of my board, so when I’m setting up my top turn, I just go over the wave, and it leaves me. Maybe it’s rust or just inexperience, but I tend to blow a good portion of rights this way. 

     All of my waves are closeouts until a little bump pops up right in front of me. When I turn, Rick says, “Yeah, Matt!” The drop isn’t too steep, but it’s fast enough to send me flying down the face. Unfortunately, it’s connecting with a closeout section down the line, so I only have a second before it stands up. I’m a little below midface when I bottom turn, stomp on the tail, and dump all my speed on the lip, do a small arc, and rebound back down the face. Dave T. paddles over the wave right in front of my turn. When I paddle back he acknowledges my ride.

Caught:

     It’s no secret that my duckdive (and barrel riding) are the weakest aspects of my surfing. However, I have been improving on my ducks a little bit. After a closeout I catch, a set comes in. Something weird is happening on the inside where the waves are doubling up. The white wash isn’t huge and roaring, but it’s consistent. Whenever I pop up, the white wash behind it crashes into me. I get knocked off my board on one. I’m caught in the groundhog day effect. There are two guys eating shit just like me. When I turn around, I notice the rocks to my right. I’m pushed so far to the inside that I can almost stand. It’s heartbreaking . . . I get close enough to where guys end their rides and turn around unmolested. I’m just behind that crucial line between war and peace, a trial of some sort, where I need to earn my way back.

    

     At 0800, Rick says he’s going to pay the meter and come back. His brother Manny paddles up to us and says there’s a good sandbar by him and his boys. When Rick leaves, it’s the last that I see of him for the morning.

    

Waiting:

     Something happens at 0800 where the shape deteriorates and it gets inconsistent. I almost spend the next forty-five minutes without a wave.  I only catch a couple closeouts. At 0845, I tell myself that it’s not worth it to fight the inside, so I go back to my car.

Friends:

     I have to pack to go to Vegas. Instead of staying in my lonely apartment for the weekend, my friend Pat invited me to the Monte Carlo to take advantage of his comps: free room, free food, and free alcohol. The paddle battle on the inside has me tired, so I’m in need of a nap. In the middle of packing, Rick calls and says he wants to come over. I almost waive him off, but he’s really persistent. He calls me back minutes later from L&L and says, “Matt, what do you want for lunch?” He spots me for a loco moco.

     Right after Rick shows, Francis shows up too with his food from L&L. We end up having a surf porn morning, watching Innersections 2 with Rick’s non-relative commentary about his surf trips in Mexico decades ago. 

     Even though I’m tired as dog shit, I’m happy that these guys are in my life. They care about my well being; they know I’ve been hurting, and they’re just stopping by to make sure I’m all right. When they leave at about 1300, I set the alarm for a forty-five minute nap.

    

     This was the last day I surfed. Since then it’s been really flat, and I have work this weekend. I hope that things pick up on Monday.

Top floor, studio at the Monte Carlo

Comps at the Dragon Noodle Restaurant

Duck Noodle Soup

Chilean Sea Bass at Prime

Pat, the high roller from Oahu. 32nd floor had its own lounge. "Gamble at the same hotel for comps." -- PG

In the end, I was still a bit too depressed to be in Vegas, but it was nice catching up with old friends.