MILKING CLOSEOUTS, SAT 6OCT2012 MOR

Crew: Klaude, Nicky, Dais, CC, Tom

Time: 0645-0900

Conditions: 2-3 FT, clean, offshore, walled, racy

PRE BLOG:

     I spent the whole day yesterday catching up on my surf blogs, and right now at this very moment, at exactly 1749 on 06OCT2012, I am caught-the-fuck-up! I’ve never fallen this far behind on my blogs ever. I made the commitment when I started this thing to write about every single surf session I do. So . . . instead of doing my homework this weekend I’ve been working on this. I know it sounds silly. Why go through the trouble, right? I ain’t getting paid for this, and I only have 21 people following me, and probably only a quarter of them actually read what I have to write. The truth is that part of the reason why I’m in the masters program is because I have this creative outlet where I CAN write and practice my craft. Even though this blog isn’t fiction or literary greatness, it counts as words on the screen, fingers hitting keys, mechanics, grammar, punctuation. Also, I’m passionate about surfing; it’s my livelihood even more than writing, but right now in my life I can’t have one without the other. I love having this journal or personal account. Surfing is life, and here I can share it with you or one day look back on it myself, rich man or poor man, it doesn’t matter.

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     Last night I was so tired by 2200. I could barely keep my eyes open. I was watching this thing on Netflix while eating dinner. It’s a movie called Zeitgeist (2007). It was some trippy shit. It talked about how the Judeo Christian religion is a parody of the ancient Egyptian religion and how the worship of God was originally from the worship of the sun. It was some crazy shit they were talking. I was intrigued until they talked about how 9-11 was pulled off by America. That’s when I really said, “What the fuck?” I’m telling you, man. Weird shit. . . . But . . . how the hell DID Tower 7 collapse?

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     I wake up at 0550 to take a piss. I’m so tired. I think about lying back down to get a little more snooze time, just to hit that button once more and catch a couple Zs. Then I think about Klaude. Shit . . . he’s probably on the muthafukin’ road right now.    

     I sip on my hot chocolate and munch on a banana before grabbing my gear. I went to Surf Concepts yesterday and bought some wax (they’re moving into a different suite in the same lot just so you know), so I got that problem solved. I haven’t showered since Friday night, and I’m still wearing the same cum-stained Hurley shorts from Thursday. Fuck it. Why dirty-up another set of clothes?

     I grab the Tokoro, my towel, hot water jugs, and a dry wetsuit out of the closet. There’s no free parking around 26^th, but since I spotted Klaude in the parking lot, I circle around to the meters and park next to him for the fuck of it; I never park next to him.

     Nicky is with him, and they both throw me shakas as I enter. I step out; we hug and shoot the shit while we change. The waves look small, but they seem to be coming in consistently. The tide is going from low-to-mid, so it’s breaking a little close to shore. It still looks fun, and there’s potential that things can get better. The offshore wind is also adding some texture, but it’s not killing the shape.

     The lineup’s a little emptier than usual. According to Klaude, all the locals have their annual camping trip in San Elijo this weekend, so that explains it. But it does seem odd not to see Bruce or Uncle Miles out here.

     Even though the conditions are great, the waves are mostly closeouts. KK and I can’t do much but go straight. The first left with a decent shoulder rolls through. Nicky whips his Zippy around. Another guy is on his inside, but Nicky goes anyway. He pumps and skims the high line with speed, leaving some mist out the back. He tries to kick out, but the ride’s already over.

     Dais and CC show up about forty-five minutes later, and then we spot Tom to our south. So we got a pretty good crew out with us, minus Khang who’s in Dallas for his vacation.

     Wave wise, good rides are few and far between. Kind of like yesterday, the low tide is making the waves hollow. Since I can’t turn for shit, I start pulling in, hoping for a little shampoo before the clamshell. I don’t have this same mentality on big round waves which is something I need to change. On one left, I pop up, hug the wall, and just crouch down. I see the lip throw out over me, and then everything turns to bubbles and water.

     When I resurface, Nicky’s behind me. He says, “Yeah, Matt! I wish I had a camera behind to film that!”

     “Sorry, man. You looked a little deep. I didn’t think you’d make it.”

     He gives his signature boy-band smile. “Awww, it’s cool, man. No worries.”

     But I do feel a little bad. I snaked him. I guess on his fish he can make those sections faster.

     Another surfer paddles up and says, “Hey, I saw you . . .” he mimics a barrel ride with his hands in front of his face, knifed and pointed forward.

     I thank him, but tell him that it was a closeout anyway, so why not go.

     As the tide rises, pulling this off is getting harder. I try to pull in on another closeout, but the wave spills. Just like yesterday, bad decisions.

     Some of us are milking the best out of the conditions. Klaude gets some distance going right. Tom gets a good bang off the lip too on one wave.

     Nicky’s doing the best out of all of us, getting time on the open face with his Zippy.

MY WAVE OF THE DAY:

     So I’m waiting for a wave when Mother Ocean sends one right to me. I’m in the perfect spot. Since the waves are a little racy, I definitely prefer the shoulder today. I get a couple hoots from the boys as I’m paddling in; I have this to myself. The shoulder is tapered but it starts to build fast. I drop in, pump, and try to make the section to the open face for a turn. It’s not emphatic, but I do hit the lip before it closes out. I paddle back to the boys (and girl).

     “That was my wave of the day,” I say to Klaude.

     “Yeah dude!”

     “Yeah, but fuck . . . I should’ve pulled-in. It was going vertical. I might have gotten barreled on that.”

     “Awwww, you didn’t enjoy it? And we pulled out so you could have it?”

     I see what he’s getting at. Why the hell am I complaining? As Dais say: J.E.T.S. 

     KK and I say by to CC and Dais and head back up to our cars. It wasn’t a surf session with waves galore, but it was great to see our friends, those committed, enjoying the surf with us. We plan to see each other tomorrow. The sound of drums dissipate behind me as I drive back home, satisfied that I got a session in.