Crew: Deathwish
Dave, KK, CC
Ran Into:
Gary C. and his son Russ
Conditions:
2-4 FT, glassy, clean, inconsistent, walled on the plus sets.
My alarm goes off at 0600, but I hit the
snooze button a couple times. Last night Bri said she wanted to surf again, but
as I sit up at the edge of the bed, she’s still out like a rock. I get my gear
together, kiss her on the forehead and tell her to sleep in. She obliges
without a challenge.
#
I take a spin around the parking lot to see
if I can score on a meter free spot. Nothing. . . . I know that I’m out of
change, but luckily I find a space a little south on Highland. It’s actually a
prime spot, and I’m surprised that no one else took it.
I don’t bother with the Zippy today. My
instincts are telling me that it’s time to get back on my thruster, so I whip
out the 6’0 Tokoro. The sun is already shining over the ocean when I get to the
tower. Klaude’s easy to find in the lineup with his jet black hair and wetsuit.
His Vertra painted face is contrast to the rest of his body. He looks like a
Geisha. Hot.
When I paddle out, my Tokoro feels so
leafy. The nose of the board is so narrow that it looks impractical. I paddle
next to Klaude. He says that Deathwish Dave will be here.
The morning starts off slow and
inconsistent. I scratch out multiple times, unable to get into the waves. When
I finally get a left, Klaude and a couple other guys are hooting me on it, but
when I get back to the lineup Klaude says, “There was a guy behind you getting
barreled, that’s what everyone was yelling about.”
“Oh. . . .”
“Don’t get me wrong. Your ride was okay,
but,” he laughs, “the other guy got barreled.”
I look out at the horizon. “Yeah, you mean
like one of those barrels you can barely remember.”
He laughs again. “No, I’m sure everyone
will remember it.”
I dismiss the miscommunication and look
towards the inside. There’s this little grom chick. She goes left and gets two
carves, unleashing some small spray. I need to get me a wave like that, I’m
thinking. With the rising tide comes a little more size, and random walls start
coming through. I know it’s hollow; I’ve been watching some of the other guys
pulling in to get pinched. I try to paddle-into a wave behind the peak, but
when it hits the sand bar it jacks-up fast and morphs. My commitment is
half-assed. Part of me wants to pull back but I’m already in the wave. The lip
pitches me over and I become part of the crashing lip. My upper back touches
the bottom. When I resurface, I see Klaude still in the lineup; he didn’t see
what happened. As I paddle back out, the grom chick is close by. She looks at
me. I’m embarrassed.
#
I spot Deathwish Dave on the sand. Shit . . . I don’t think he’s surfed with us
the whole summer. I get Klaude’s attention to let him know Deathwish is
here. Dave only suits up half way and rushes into the water. KK and I are
confused.
“Wassup, Dave?” I say.
“Hey!” He smiles as he puts his arms
through his sleeves.
“Why didn’t you just change on the shore,”
says Klaude.
“Oh, I don’t know. I saw you guys out here.
I thought I’d hurry up.”
Minutes later, I spot Christina warming up
on the sand. More walls are coming through, but I’m being picky especially
after my wipe out. I paddle and pull out numerous times. Eventually I catch a
couple closeouts. I look back towards the sand. “Damn, she’s still warming up!”
I say to Klaude.
“Still?” he says.
After ten more minutes and a dozen yoga positions,
CC paddles out to join is.
#
“Hurleeeeee,” says a voice from behind.
I doubt that person’s talking to me.
“Hurleeeeee,” the person says again.
I turn around, and it’s Gary C, Rick’s
friend. “Hey!” I say. “Rick’s at 45th. He texted me this morning.”
“Yeah, I told him to come down here; it’s
better over here.” He motions his head to the guy next to him. “This is my son,
Russ.”
I smile and nod. Russ looks just like
J.O.B., the similarities are striking. Gary and I talk about our plans tomorrow
to surf Oceanside with Rick.
#
I feel like a beginner. I haven’t caught
any good waves thus far. A wall approaches. It has no shape. I hear Dave start
to turn his board. We’re a little deep. He’s going for it. “Careful, Dave,” I
say. The walled, glassy lip is already curling behind him while he’s still
paddling. He plunges down below, and his longboard shoots straight up into the
air.
CC has more balls than I do today too. Even
on the closeouts, she’s charging. The look of commitment’s on her face, and her
objective is to get into the wave, closeout or not. For the rest of the session
I continue to struggle, and I never get one turn, only straight drops.
KK and I are standing on the inside when
Russ catches a wall, but he manages to do two long floaters to make the
sections. We’re impressed. Reality hits that I am definitely far from Russ’
level of surfing.
KK says it’s time for him to go. Dave’s working
on his last wave too. Again, he turns and starts paddling for a bomb that
nobody wants. “Careful, Dave,” I say again. From behind I see the explosion,
but his board doesn’t shoot up. I’m looking for him to resurface. It takes a
while for him to resurface, but his board isn’t next to him. I follow his gaze
towards the shallows and then I see his board heading towards the sand. He
snapped his leash.
I tell CC that I’m heading out as well. Bri’s
at the house, I got some homework, and I’d like to conserve some energy for
tomorrow.
When I get back home, Bri is still KOd. Even
though I didn’t pull a grueling session, I am TIRED. There’s still residue left
over from yesterday, and my body needs more rest.
Bri takes off to work, and I spend the rest
of my day trying to be productive. Rick gives me a call about tomorrow.
“What time you want to meet?” I ask.
“Is 0500 too early for you?”
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