FAREWELL TO FRANCIS AND KK B-DAY SESH, SAT 09JUN2012 MOR

Loc: 26th

Crew: Klaude, Khang, Francis, Nicky, CC, Apolla & Cheryl (sand detail)

Time: 0630-0930, 3 hrs

Conditions: 3-4 FT, consistent enough, crowded but manageable, light onshore, south current.

     There are a couple things going on today. It’s Klaude’s birthday and on top of that, Francis is leaving to Oahu on Thursday. It’s the last weekend surf sesh that we’ll have with Francis in a while, but also . . . we’re trying to have the first DRC group session in a long time. Last night I sent a text out to CC and Cheryl to let them know, and I think I’m not the only one that did. Rain or shine, swell or no swell, sometimes friendships are defined just by showing up.

First Light:

     I slept for about five hours. For me this is decent, but I still wake up tired. I hit the snooze button once. 0545 my alarm goes off again. I have to wake up, no excuses today. If there’s any day to force myself up it’s today.

     I brush my teeth, grab my gear, and warm up the car. Just as I get on the 405N onramp, Francis shoots me a text. They’re already on Vista Del Mar. Even though we show up earlier than usual, parking already sucks balls. I loop around Parks a couple times before giving up. On the way back up Highland, I see Klaude’s bangbus doing the same. I score parking just south of 26^th up the hill. The waves are breaking in front of me, down the street. It’s not impressive. I have both the JS and the Tokoro. The last thing I want is a session where I’m undergunned, scraping for dribblers. I get a call from Francis.

     “Where are you?” he asks.

     “I’m just south of 26^th a little up the hill.”

     “Oh . . . we’re just above 26^th. There’s an empty parking spot if you want it.”

     Even though I’m already settled into a spot, I figure it will be a good idea to park next to the group. We can suit up together and get some pre-surf bullshit out of the way before getting wet, but when I head up the hill the guys are already walking down. I find the bangbus but the empty parking spot is a no parking zone. I’m farther away from where I was earlier, but I find another spot close by.

     I’m trotting down the hill, trying to catch up. When I get to the sand, Nicky’s the only one left stretching. I sneak up behind him and poke him in the butt with the nose of my board. I can’t remember the last time I surfed with him, let alone seen him. He says he’s been living the frugal life up north, sleeping in Golden State Park and staying with strangers that take him in. “No phone, no internet, no Facebook,” he says.

     I tell him I commend his way of living. It’s not easy to strip down to the bare essentials, especially nowadays. I lost my phone a couple months ago and it was damn near the end of the world. As they say: The more things you own, the more they start to own you.

    

BLOG INCERPT:

     It is now June 30^th. I’ve been so busy with school this summer semester that I’ve fell behind on my surf blogs. Every blog post up to June 30^th will severely test my memory. Please excuse my brevity and memory lapses.

CONT. . .

     Klaude and Francis are already in the lineup. Nicky and I follow behind. Just as we get to the lineup, Khang approaches from the south. So there we are; it’s a rare occasion: five surf marauders together to celebrate Francis and KK.

     I’m lagging. I’m on the Tokoro, eager for a wave, but everyone else has a wave under his belt. I tell myself that it’s not about me or my surfing today and that it’s just about being here.

     The current takes us further north. Right now as I’m writing this, I can’t remember any waves that I got, but here’s what I can recall. Khang complains about the twin-fin he’s using. He’s dying to get back on a thruster. On the inside, I see him catch a right, but there’s a frustrated look on his face. KK gets a left that I completely miss. I never see it from behind the wave, but I believe it’s his wave of the day.

     Towards the end of the session, we spot CC and Apolla in the water. It’s obvious because they are wearing matching wetsuits. CC is on her fish and Apolla is on a medium board, similar to the size of my old Becker, but hers is much cleaner. CC says her shoulder’s still messed up, but that she wants to get a session in regardless. She and Apolla get a little worked towards the inside. Within an hour of seeing them, the boys are ready to call the session, of course, not without commentary on the wave of the day.

     We’re searching for our final waves to wake us in. Nicky finds himself in perfect position for a left that just comes his way. He paddles into it, and over the back of the wave, we can see his arms held out in front of him as he makes his way down the line. There’s nothing fancy about this wave, but it’s just the pure enjoyment and stoke he has which reflects in the way he rides it. He trims, pumps, and holds the line over the shoulder, staying in the pocket. His face is all intense concentration, puffing his cheeks, keeping an eye on the shape. He’s catching the damn thing all the way to the shallow sand.

The Blue Butterfly:

     On our way back to the showers, we spot Cheryl lying on the sand. She’s in her gardener hat and sweats. We all give her a hug and say hi. The plan is to meet somewhere for breakfast, but we are having problems agreeing on where to go.

     “Let’s just go to Blue Butterfly,” says Francis. I know seating is kind of cramped in there, and we do have a large party. I let go of my doubts which are part of my control freak personality, change, and head over to meet everyone else.

     Cheryl and I secure two tables in the back. When everyone shows up and orders, no one is disappointed in his meal. The bagels are clean, and the fruit on the side is a nice touch. Klaude likes the coffee which is a good thing because he’s a man of fine tastes. So the Saturday surf session is a success. It’s Francis’ last weekend for a while. I think that’s what I’m the most bummed out about, but we get to hang out with him before he leaves. Live in the moment. 

Bday at Metro:

     In the early evening, I’m heading towards Metro Café. I’m wearing my best shirt, which is my purple Hurley, long sleeved, button-up that was my Bali staple. I’m about to park when Francis calls and asks me to pick him up. Klaude has a big table of his closest friends, just a select group. I people watch, mingle, and observe Klaude’s unique and exclusive circle; we all have exclusive circles, and I’m glad to be in his. 

     There is a couple that is part of the dinner party, and Klaude’s other friend talks about how he’s engaged and how his fiancée can’t be there. For a moment the theme switches to “relationships.” It bums me out, bringing back memories of my ex, and the life that I used to have. In the midst of this celebration I start spiraling down the shit hole. Stay in the moment.

     KK gives a nice speech, thanking everyone for coming. He has a good family dynamic, one that I’ve never had, not quite like this at least. It’s truly special. He grabs my gift which has penis art drawn all over it.

     Nicole picks up Francis, and then I drive home when the party is officially over. It’s a nice night. The freeway lamps over 405S shine through my sunroof, illuminating my inner surroundings before leaving and returning it to darkness and then repeating again. My car moves forward with a little bit of light and a little bit of dark. I drive through them both.