CURSE OF THE NSP, WED 22AUG2012 MOR

Location: Old Mans

Crew: Briana

Conditions: 2-3 FT, hot, light onshore, consistent, crowded.

     I don’t know why I set the alarm for 0545. After hitting the snooze twice, I set the alarm for 0645 and conk back out. I wake up on my own. Sun’s creeping through the blinds. Something’s not right. I look at my watch: 0745. “Fuck.” My internal tirade starts. What happened to the alarm? I check my phone. The time was set but the alarm wasn’t turned on.

     I’m on a tight schedule. After this trip, I have to drop Bri off at her house and then help my cousin move back to her dorm at CSUF. I need to be in the valley by 1230.

     My energy’s off at the rushed session. I have to surf everyday that I’m here; to have accommodations in the San O/Trestles area and not surf is a travesty.

#

     This morning’s swell has more rogue waves than the previous days. I get one of them, catching my longest ride of the whole trip. Things happen so much faster on a thruster, but Zippy slows things down by expanding time. On my Tokoro, I would’ve bogged out into the flats after the drop, but Zippy has me pumping, setting up on the high line, dropping back in with speed, and turning on the lip. The wave is slow, so I feel slow, but I know that it’s Zippy’s speed that’s getting me across the sections.

     When I paddle back to the lineup, Bri is going for another late drop again. Her board shoots out from behind her again, just like yesterday. This time she resurfaces holding her jaw.

     “Are you okay?”

     She shakes her head from side to side. “My board hit me in the jaw.” She rubs it.

     “Do you want to go in?”

     She’s not responding, still gaining her bearings. She gets back on her board and paddles towards me. There’s blood under her chin.

     The NSP has claimed the asses of many. I know it had its fair share with me. Lauren needed stitches on her head. Boris got cracked in the eye when he fell asleep in the lineup after a graveyard shift and got pounded by a rogue wave.

     The control freak in me starts to come out. I try to give her pointers on shifting more weight to the tail if she’s gonna fall, cover her head on a wipeout, etc. I worry about her getting hurt, but I try to remember that getting whacked by your own board is inevitable when you first start surfing. “You’ll fall less when you get better,” I tell her.

     For the rest of the session, Briana catches waves on her Belly, still shocked from the incident. Red water trickles off of her chin. I tell her it’s just a little knick because I don’t want to worry her. The cut is small, but it’s deep.

#

     We catch our last wave in, pack, and head to Café Del Sol for breakfast. I spend the remainder of the day assisting family, and I don’t get home until 2300. 

     Even though the surf was small, these last two days couldn’t have been better. Again, I didn’t expect to have so much fun in tiny surf; it’s all about the board. I might have to buy a fish. Also, Briana got to work on her fundamentals, popping up on her own at a consistent level. I used to get a little upset at the thought of taking Briana to surf small waves where she can practice. My mentality has been performance surfing and trying to go when there’s size. Now, I’m happy to know that we can enjoy the surf together, no matter how small . . . as long as I have the right board.