LIKE MEDS, FRI 01JUN2012 MOR

Crew: Francis

Time: 0700-0800, 1 hr.

Conditions: 2-3 FT, inconsistent.

     I haven’t surfed since Oceanside last Sunday, and it’s because school has been a bitch. Two classes during a six week semester are a little hard to handle. Too much reading and writing without enough time. However, since I have to work this weekend, this Friday is my last chance to get some waves until next week, so I have to paddle out no matter what.

#

     I told Francis yesterday that I’d paddle out early, but again, I hit snooze until 0630. I look at my phone. He shot me a text at 0600 that the tide was high. He’s already there. So as not to be a flake, I grab my gear and head out.

     On Fridays the parking at 26^th St. sucks ass, so I have no choice but to park at the meters. On my way to the sand, I can already see that the surf is having issues with the high tide. It’s clean and glassy, but the waves are only breaking close to shore. However, there are a couple spots that still push waves out despite the tide. I look for Francis, and he’s easy to find, as he’s trimming down the face of a mooshy, three-footer, reentering off the high line, bottom turning, and pumping for more distance. My warm up’s a quick one since I only have an hour before the meter maids come in for a raping. We see each other as I paddle out, and he waves.

     I’m back on the DMS because I think I’ve outgrown the JS. I’ve been riding it for over a year now, so it’s about time that I’ve progressed to something else.

#

     The locals here know what’s up, that’s why they’re sitting “here” and not where the shore pound is. There’s this magic sand bar that works when it’s not working anywhere else. A mooshy three-footer forms. It has a long section behind it, so it’s not peaky but the right-hand shoulder tapers down, leaving a smooth, building fcw. I pump down the line to the inside section, where it stands up and goes fast. The shoulder’s soft and open like a blank canvas, the kind of shoulder that’s perfect for carving. I bottom turn and thrust my tail into the lip. I hear the unmistakable splash of water as I reenter when the wave closes out. I paddle back to Francis.

     “I heard that one,” he says. He splashes the water and makes a swooshing sound.

     Francis gets more waves than I, which is normal. I get a couple, but the consistency gets worse towards the eight o’clock hour.

     “Staying out?” he asks.

     “Nah, I can’t. I gotta get a haircut and get ready for work.”

     We give our goodbyes, and I move on to start the rest of my day. It was only an hour of surf, but those couple sprays that I got off the lip will be enough to hold me down for the weekend.