Crew: Solo
Conditions: High tide, 3 FT, inconsistent, mooshy.
Since I have school on Tuesday’s and Thursdays, that’s when I usually gamble on HB, also to save money on gas. I compared the forecast and tide at both HB and Porto. Since it’s been high tide lately, I didn’t want to go to HB, especially with such a small swell. I figured that there still might be some shape locally.
It’s sunny, and the conditions look good, but they aren’t glassy, smooth, and clean like the good old days. Fuck . . . I look out there and I’m just thinking, man it’s been so fucking long since I’ve seen this place GOOOOOD. I remember glassy mornings with scattered peaks everywhere. Shit, I remember when the sandbars were good by the tanks and the smoke stacks. When I first started surfing here consistently from 2006-2008 (before Iraq), I swear there were more peaks. Anyway, all I see is the shitters and the sandwich shack working again. It’s the same funky peaks that are rideable, but just not “ideal.”
I’m getting my surfer arms back, so the paddle out is getting a little easier again. Because of the tide, a lot of the waves break too late for those sitting outside. Surfers are scattered, working the inside, middle, and outer peaks. I pass on a lot of waves, scratch out, and catch closeouts. There are a lot of surfers, particularly longboarders, faces I haven’t seen before. I can tell by their paddle that they’re new. Usually there aren’t this many beginners out. It’s a lot of competition, but eventually I get a left. It’s a set wave, about four feet, and when I hit the lip I come back down with a lot of rail. My nose points straight down, and I’m moving with a lot of speed. It wasn’t much of a gouge, but it felt like a good downturn.
That morning I was stoked for that one wave. Looking back . . . I need more. I think it’s time to start gambling down south again, or maybe a trip to Trestles as long as the radiation’s not too bad.
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