LOCAL DELIVERY, SAT 21JULY2012 MOR

Crew: KK

Time: 0630-0845

Conditions: 2-3 FT, semi-consistent, onshore, warm, peaky.

     Surfline said the forecast was going to be 1-3 FT, poor conditions. I pushed a breath out my nostrils and thought about other things I could do on Saturday morning. KK shot me a text, asking me what my plans were. Despite the negative forecast, he said he’d be surfing local. I thought about it. It would truly be a session just to hang out with a friend, with weak dribblers close to shore. It was one of those decisions that defines friendships. To surf or not to surf, that is the question.

#

     Morning sex . . . it really works out this morning because now I’m up early when I can eat a small breakfast, take my time packing, and still make it to Manhattan Beach at a reasonable time. Since Briana has a lot of reading to do for school, she comes along to do her homework on the sand. This morning isn’t as warm as yesterday. HB was already seventy degrees, but at 0600 it’s still sixty-five. I look at Briana and say, “Yup, it’s definitely gonna be a wetsuit day.” I pull off my 3/2 Rip Curl wetsuit off the hanger in the backyard.

     I don’t bother looking for street parking because I don’t expect to stay past 0800. Today’s board selection is the JS, my longboard. Even though it’s a 6’3, it’s pretty meaty and easy to catch waves on. I don’t like to use it anymore because it feels corky and sluggish on the turns, but for weak surf it’s my best option.

     We reach the sand. Klaude’s still on his way. Briana sets up shop with her beach blanket while I warm up. To my surprise, the breaks around 26^th Street are sprouting random peaks, even to the north and the south. I’m thinking that this might actually be fun. The wind is already on it, but the peaks are still pushing through, soft but lined-up. The usual vets are out there: Don, Ross, Roy, and company. I give Bri a kiss and paddle out.

     The water’s nice and warm like yesterday, but still cool enough to warrant a wetsuit. The inside is consistent with torrents of white wash, but I still manage to push through. The main peak is crowded, so I sit to the north.

     My first right comes. Even though it’s a weak wave, just under three feet, it lines up towards the inside. I pump, bottom turn, and try to hit the lip, but my backside hack has no power to it; it ends up being more of a check stall. I try again, same results. I used to be able to get decent turns on this board, but it’s a different feeling from the DMS and the even chippier Tokoro, but I’m still grateful for the wave.

     When I kick-out it puts me at the main peak. Just then, an outside wave forms, a solid three-footer, and I’m in prime position. I lower my chin and paddle into it. I shouldn’t be making this drop, but the JS is so easy to catch waves on. The rastafarian Orlando backs out as I go left. It’s lined up perfectly, but I’m too far up on my board when I pump, purling it into the face and falling. The wipeout goes down on the list of perfectly blown waves. Silence follows as I resurface. The other surfers won’t even look my way, a confirmation that they witnessed my debacle. I’m ashamed; I can’t help it. I crawl back on my board and paddle north to sit at another peak.

#

     Roy’s wearing his wetsuit. I can overhear him talking about how hot it is. He disappears and returns ten minutes later, trunking it. I’m like, “Fuck this.” I catch a wave in. Just as I reach the inside, I see Klaude making his way out. I tell him that I’m changing out into my boardshorts. He follows suit.

     Back on the sand, we walk towards Briana who’s lying on her stomach, wearing black work out pants, a black shirt, and a white DC beanie. I finally get to introduce them to each other. I’m doing my best to really cut down on my list of friends, no more flakes or bullshitters, only accountable people from now on. I’m saying this because I’m stoked for Briana to meet all my real people.

     I throw on my Hurley Phantoms which double as walking shorts. KK has his multicolored rainbow . . . I-have-no-idea-what-brand shorts and Rip Curl wetsuit jacket.

#

     Once we’re back in the lineup, he goes through his morning greetings with all the locals. I don’t know them as well as KK does, but I hope that surfing with him has got me some local points too.

     It doesn’t take long before we both catch some waves. Even though it’s semi crowded, we manage to get a good handful of rides. Klaude gets a really good left. He catches it right on the peak because I duckdive it on the shoulder. When I turn around he’s gone. Further down the wave, he’s skylining over the lip. The look on his face is serious, and I can tell that he’s pumping and trimming, making all of his sections and going down the line. Roy paddles over the shoulder as KK passes him. He takes the wave all the way to shore.

     I need to get me one of those; it’s the only thing on my mind. I paddle where KK was sitting and get a couple fun rides. Every time I try to work my way towards Klaude to congratulate him, another set comes and disperses everyone. When I finally do reach him, he catches another wave.

#

     I’m left out the back with a small crowd when the next set comes. I scratch for the first wave, but someone’s on my inside. I glance out towards the back and see the second wave building. I’m all alone. I paddle out to meet it and swing around, almost positioning myself too far on the outside to catch it. I’m stroking and kicking for what seems like a long time, still not sliding down.

     I hear KK yell, “Go, Matt!”

     I finally get the drop going right, directly in front of Klaude and Roy who are paddling towards me. I pop-up, wipe the water off of my face, draw a line to avoid them, and set up my bottom turn. Even though the JS is sluggish, I extend my arms and climb the face, grinding out a turn just under the lip. It feels slow but fluid; I’m beyond stoked, served with the sensation that fuels my surfing addiction. I set myself up for another top turn before the ride ends.

     When I paddle back, KK looks at me. He’s blind, but if he can in fact see me, he’s looking at a huge smile on my brown smudge of a face.

     I reach him. “Everyone was hooting for you on that one,” he says.

     We comment at how surprised we are at the surf conditions. Surfline is off.

     I get another standout wave going left. The section’s about to close in front of me, but I manage to draw a highline, building speed as I come down with the section. It’s a long wave, and it turns small and rampy at the end where I do another layback-snap attempt. The turn feels good. The tail gets loose as I do it, but I again fail to recover when I layback.

#

     Back at the peak, KK and I discuss how long we want to stay out here. “What do you think?” he asks.

     “Shit . . .” I look at my watch, “at least another hour. It’s so good now.”

#

     Fifteen minutes later, Klaude is looking in my direction over the small crowd of surfers, laughing into the air. I paddle over. “You know what I’m thinking?” he says.

     “What?”

     “We jinxed it.”

     I hate to say it . . . but he’s right. After I commented on how good it was earlier, the tide just drowned the whole break out, and the wind made conditions even choppier. I struggle for my last wave but eventually get a closeout to shore. I look back and throw a shaka at Klaude. I’m out.

     Roy’s done rinsing off at the showers. He throws me a shaka and says, “Laters, Matt!”

     I throw one back. Turns out he’s a nice guy after all.

#

     This session made me wonder. Here I’ve been, going all the way to HB just because of Surfline’s forecasts and ratings. Meanwhile here in the South Bay, the surf may not be big, but it’s rippable and fun. It reminded me of back in the day when I used to surf nothing but Porto. I didn’t even know a surf forecast existed, and I swear I had the most consecutive, stoked sessions in my life during those times. I guess Surfline can’t predict everything, and even though south facing beaches are only a drive away, sometimes the surf is still good in your own backyard, despite what the experts say. Not only was the surf good, but it was good scoring it with a friend. The consistent and reliable Klaude, another one of the new Francises.