Crew: Francis
Time: 0845-1045
Conditions:
4-5 FT, semi consistent, crowded, cold.
Yesterday was hot. In fact, I was fucking
burning in my wetsuit. I debate on trunking-it for the first time this year.
The tidal window’s a little weird this
morning, so I head out a little late. When I park, I can see some lines coming
in; it looks fun. Even though the sun isn’t blazing this morning, my intuition
tells me that the water’s warm. I didn’t grab my boardshorts, but I check the
spare tire compartment and find my emergency boardshorts and rashguard.
#
Here I am. I’m tired and yawning in my
Billabong A.I. boardshorts. There are only two other guys in shorts, and one of
them is an SUP guy. I have my red rashguard on, the one I’ve had since I was a
barney and the one I wore in Bali. With my DMS under my left arm I approach the
water, thinking that this could be an epic session.
My calves go cold first, but it’s bearable.
Once I’m on my belly paddling out, cool water starts to creep up my back. A
wave comes. I duckdive. HOLY FUCKING, CHRIST! My body’s electrified with cold
energy. If I was asleep earlier, I’m motherfuckin’ wide awake now. I’m so cold
that my arms cut through the water like chopper blades; I’m fast. The morning
jolt sends me to the middle of the pack. Within the first couple minutes a set
approaches. An Asian guy on my inside scratches but pulls out. I already have
momentum. I paddle and kick with an unbound sense of freedom that I haven’t had
in a while. There’s no restriction around my shoulders or back muscles. My feet
feel weightless in the air as they recoil for the kicks. I pop up, staring down
the line of a fast, marbley left. Sliding down the face, the wind makes my
sleeves flap. To think I surfed liked this for a month in Bali.
I get a deep bottom turn, come up the face,
and get a nice, little top-turn off the lip. I pump and set up for a second one
before the ride ends. The cold is nothing but a memory. I’m exuberant, paddling
back to the lineup with a purpose. Back in the pack I feel confident in my
trunks. Suckers, I’m thinking. Pussies . . . all in their wetsuits. It ain’t
that cold.
Again, another wave. Even though it’s
crowded, I’m on another one. A guy watches me as he paddles over the shoulder.
I check turn off the lip and reenter right in front of him. I feel so loose and
light. I get my second turn on the inside section, putting these A.I. shorts to
work!
#
Fuck my ass, why the fuck is it so cold
now? I look at my watch. It’s only been a half an hour. Everyone’s calm in
their wetsuits, bobbing in place and waiting for the sets. While I, I’m
paddling to the left and right and through the pack, moving just to stay warm.
Cool as cucumbers, the wetsuits don’t move. I envy them. I’m an idiot.
#
After that second wave, my luck runs out.
My teeth are chattering so hard that I wonder if I’m wearing them down. I
paddle all the way to 30th St. and back to 26th, just to
keep the blood flowing. Every time I have a wave, someone is on it. I look like
I’m aggressive, trying to go for everything, but I’m just plain freezing.
Back at 26th, I finally run into
Francis. I tell him about my debacle. He laughs. The crowd thins out, and just
like yesterday the waves start to turn on for us. We have it good for the next
hour, sharing the spot with one guy, but the wind turns on, and even though it’s
juicy it’s getting choppy.
I tell Francis I can’t take it anymore and
head back in. Even though the boardshorts were a bad call, I still got in a
solid two hours, but I think I’ll keep the wetsuit around a little bit longer.
No comments:
Post a Comment