DAYS OF THE ZIPPY FISH PT.3, SAT 27OCT2012 MOR

Loc: Rosecrans

Crew: Bri

Time: 0900-1100

Conditions: 3 FT, high tide, offshore, consistent, minimal crowd, sunny, hot.

     My alarm goes off at 0600, but my room is so fucking cold. Next to Briana’s warm body, it’s hard to leave the covers. At 0700, I give up on hitting the snooze button and just shut off my alarm entirely. With the cold and my surf-worn body combined (also with Bri who doesn’t want to get out of bed) there’s no way I’m waking up.

     At 0815 I open my eyes. Bri is up too. Disappointment overwhelms my face. It’s do or die time, that moment when you have to decide: to surf or not to surf. A minute longer without a decision is a refusal. I reach for the blinds and open them. It’s broad daylight outside. “Fuck,” I say. “I didn’t make my commitment with Klaude.”

     Bri turns over and says, “You didn’t ‘make the commitment’ that you were going to meet him.”

     “That’s not the point,” I say. “He’s out there right now. I should be out there too. We always surf local on the weekends.”

     “Okay,” she says, “Let’s surf.”

     I’m filling up my hot water jugs when Bri starts saying how tired she is and how she has a lot of stuff to do before work. I give her the option: you don’t have to come if you don’t want, but I’m going.

     The wagon already has our boards in there from yesterday, so this morning is just a matter of getting the wetsuits and towels. When we reach 26^th, I don’t see Klaude’s van anywhere. We park at the top lot and walk by the lifeguard station for a look. Bruce is out there as well. I scan the lineup in search of any of my buddies. I see none of them. The waves are breaking close to shore; it’s not consistent.

     I think about the options. I really don’t feel like cooking, wanted to grab some breakfast on the way home but not if we don’t get a session in. “Let’s check out Porto,” I say.

     We hop in the wagon and take the lower road to Rosecrans, where I see an open parking space on the right side of the road. We park on Rosecrans and change without checking the water.

#

     Given the small conditions, whipping out the Zippy Fish again is a no brainer. It’s 0900; we’re late and on the second shift.

     We walk down to the lifeguard station, and it’s like a scene from the summer. People are lying out in the sun, playing volleyball, sitting under their umbrellas, and swimming in the water. The sky’s a piercing blue, it’s offshore, and hot. I’m already sweating in my wetsuit.

     There are some peaks in front of the lifeguard station working, but it’s crowded with surfers. We walk just south of it where there’s a gap in the crowd.

     There’s a peak to our north and south.

     I have a feeling we’re in a bad spot, but I don’t want to be close to anyone.

     We sit during this first lull, not expecting much when Briana turns to me and says, “I’m already stoked.”  

     To our surprise, despite the high tide, some waves are breaking towards the outside. Long, mooshy lines form with tapered shoulders at the end. I kick and scratch, popping up on a left. The ride is short, similar to North Churches’ refracted lefts, but they are still fun: good for a pump and down the line distance into inches of water. I kick out too late and roll onto the sand.

     Briana has a hard time catching them; she keeps purling. I tell her that it’s probably because she doesn’t have momentum. I look out on the horizon and see a bump. “This one,” I say. “Go.”

     She turns around and catches the wave going left. Again, going down the line just like yesterday.

     I wouldn’t call the session a buffet, but it’s definitely not boring. I pick out most of the lefts, and our desolate little spot doesn’t have much competition. Even though I can’t get any turns down, the waves are still fun, especially on a day when it’s supposed to be flat.

     Bri and I both get our fair share. “See,” I say, “and you would’ve been in bed knocked out right now. I would’ve came home, told you about the surf, and then you would’ve said, ‘Oh, that’s nice, glad you had a good session,’ but you wouldn’t have been able to relate how it actually was out here. And now look at you . . . you’re catching waves going down the line. Aren’t you glad you came out?”

     She smiles and lifts her eye brows. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

#

     After Briana snakes a guy going right, we let the current take us south of 34^th. Even though the tide is going down, the waves start backing off at our peak. We see a longboarder close to the next tower with a peak all to herself. We paddle over and share the spot.

     Both of us get more rides, and I don’t have to watch her; she’s doing her own thing and I’m doing mine. The weather’s so warm that some old dude is barebacking it. I keep glancing at 26^th, seeing the crowd of surfers in the distance, wondering if any of my homies are there.

     We surf for two solid hours. Still beat and sun burned from yesterday, we catch a wave in and rinse off by the run path. The wind is still calm as it was when we arrived with a fresh new lineup of surfers taking over for the third shift. 

     We polish off the session with breakfast at Mandy’s Family Restaurant in El Segundo, both aware that we made the right decision not to sleep in.