Crew: Bri,
KK, CC, Khang, Tom, Dais
Time: 0900-1045
Conditions:
2-3 FT, sunny, glassy, inconsistent.
Another Ode
to Fran-Sauce:
I remember the good old days when I had
nothing but time to surf, write, and play Modern Warfare 3 on PS3. I’ll never
forget the weekday morning sessions. Francis and I pulled so many of those,
when we’d either stay local or go as far south as Blacks to get some waves. If
we stayed local or in the HB area, we’d usually top off with a Bob’s Hawaiian
breakfast. There’s nothing like pulling into Bob’s on a Tuesday morning, like
at 0945 before the day goes full swing. We’ve walked in there when there were
only Gardena Public Works employees and old Japanese couples eating breakfast.
We’d be ravenous with hunger, killing off Da Big Hawaiian plate, one for each
of us. Mmmmmmm, Vienna Sausage, Spam, rice, eggs, macaroni salad, pancakes with
coconut syrup. Then we’d go back to the house, chill with Smokey and blast
fools on PS3. Well, everything comes to an end, and in this case, hopefully it’s
only a “pause.” Now with Francis in Oahu and with my masters program in full
swing, I get to see my surf family only on the weekends. So on Saturdays and Sundays,
I stay local.
If you’ve never met Francis, you’ve never
been privileged with being around his Zen-like, in the moment, calm, and genuine
demeanor/personality. The guy’s like a Philosopher, the Brown Jesus in surfer
form. That being said, from now on we’ll refer to his method of living and thinking
as “FRANSAUCEAN.”
#
Dawn patrol? I don’t think so. Briana and I
learn that staycations take a lot out of us, and waking up early on Saturday
mornings is turning out to be a tall order.
I know KK’s surfing local because I asked
him last night. I bring Cheryl’s DK Fish in case she comes. As much as I’d like
to hang on to this awesome piece of surfcraft, it doesn’t belong to me, and
holding on to it brings the risk of damaging it, which I do not want to be
liable for.
There’s no free parking at 26th,
so Bri and I have no choice but to do the meters, but the only problem is that
I barely have any fucking change. Again, we run into Klaude as he’s on his way
out. He says that the rest of the crew is out there. I bum five more quarters
from him and make the commitment to see him tomorrow.
The waves don’t look impressive. The scene
of surfers sitting close to the inside is becoming typical. I’m chancing it
with the boardshorts today with no rashguard. From the sand I already see that
the water’s DRC heavy: Dais, Khang, Tom, and CC. Dais is the first one to spot
me. We wave.
I must be a freak because everyone else is
in a wetsuit. Also, the sight of me paddling out on a fish is still new. It
feels good to see everyone together, despite the surf conditions. I introduce
Bri to Tom, since Bri’s now met everyone except for Cheryl. “How’s the surf?” I
ask Tom.
“Ohhh, it’s okay, but . . . it looks like
it’s getting better with the tide coming up. Shit, here I am thinking, ‘wake up
early, get here at first light,’ but now I’m like, ‘I should just sleep in, get
here later!’”
I laugh. I tell everyone how I’ve been
experimenting with fishes lately and how the DK really pulled through for me at
San Onofre. Just then, a little left-hand bump rolls through. Feeding off the
energy of seeing my comrades, I put a little extra mustard on my paddle and
kick. I catch the sub three-foot wave, which is a little walled. But it has a workable
little end section. I bottom turn and rebound off the lip as it closes. My
friends see this. It feels good, not just for validation, but I feel like we
tend to surf a little harder when we’re surfing together, each person raising
the bar for the other, making us froth more and more for the next one. I try to
duplicate the ride, but it’s hard to get another nugget. My rides are mostly closeouts
now, but everyone else gets some good rides. Tom in particular is working with
the closeouts, banging turns out before his rides end.
Since Bri and I are on the second shift,
everyone else leaves one-by-one until it’s just Bri and me. I struggle to get
another good ride, but I’m graced by a right-hand bump. I paddle into it, and
it actually has some shape. It’s reminiscent of my first right at San Onofre
yesterday, but this one’s standing up a little bit more. My bottom turn is slow
and wide, but I climb the face and hit the lip. The downturn is a little critical
because I feel like I’m gonna purl, but I manage to keep the nose out the water.
I look back on the sand. Dais gives me a thumbs-up before he leaves.
#
Briana’s getting used to 26th.
There’s a crowd here, but it breaks different from San O. Since it’s small
beach break, the paddle out is shorter, and (for a longboard) there are enough
waves for her to catch.
The window of good surf that Tom called
only lasts a little while. The tide rises and makes the surf more inconsistent.
Our parking meter’s almost up, so we head back in. Just like last weekend, the
calm wind and sunny conditions remain even as we’re leaving.
New Post
Surf Grinds:
I ask Bri what she’s in the mood to eat for
breakfast. I suggest The Blue Butterfly, but she doesn’t want that. Deep
inside, I’m in the mood for something greasier myself. We discuss the
possibility of pancakes at Metro Café. “But it’s almost eleven,” I say, “there’s
probably gonna be a nasty line.” We both know that only one resolution is
possible. . . . BOB’S HAWAIIAN!
On the drive to Gardena, my mouth waters at
the thought of some rice, eggs, and Spam with Vienna Sausage. Maybe a little
soyu on top of that with some Tobasco. You gotta get the mixture right: a
little bit of Spam followed by a spoonful of rice, thew three times, then scoop
up some mac salad. Mmmmmm-Mmmmm-MMMMMM! I NEED RICE! We pull into the parking
lot, stoked to see that there are empty spots, and then we see the sign on the
window:
We’ve
Moved Location.
My heart’s broken; my food fantasy is
crushed. I don’t have time to look up the address and start a monkey hunt. I’ve
heard that Gardena Bowl has good local food too, so we check it out.
It’s smaller than Bob’s, cramped with a lot
of people . . . but this has to be a good sign that something’s good here. We
sit next to some elderly Japanese peeps and look at the menu. I can’t find
anything resembling Da Big Hawaiian, so I order:
Hawaiian
Royal: Portuguese
sausage,
charsu,
green onions & eggs
over a
bed of rice with teriyaki
sauce.
I’m so hungry that I’m about to have a man
bitch-fit. Surprisingly, this dish is enough to satisfy me. I could eat more,
but I’m content. I think it costs seven bucks and some change. Afterwards,
Briana and I both take monster shits.
#
So today’s local session was fun. It was
great to see everyone in the water, and I got a couple good waves. I’m hoping
tomorrow will be fun too. Now only one question remains. . . . WHERE THE FUCK IS THE NEW BOB'S HAWAIIAN RESTAURANT?
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