Loc:
Manhattan Beach
Time: 1215-1615,
4 hrs.
Crew: J
Conditions:
4FT+, high tide, consistent, light onshore wind, still clean, peaky, fun, and sunny
with partial clouds.
I’m mad . . . my fucking board broke. Randy
buckled the Lost board, the JS’s tail is cracked open, and now this. I have no more
boards. I think about school. I originally scheduled part of my day to at least
start on my last research paper, but instead I take heed to Mentor Rick’s
teachings or his way of life: when it’s good, you have to paddle out no matter
what.
My classmate Cassady calls, asking me if it’s
any good. I can’t shut the fuck up in describing how fun it is. J calls me
after. He says he woke up late and is heading to the beach. I give him the same
report and tell him I’ll meet him in the water.
I bought this FCS putty from a surf shop
and use it to fix the JS. It’s a shoddy repair, but it will seal it and keep
the water out. I have another packet of oatmeal just like I had for breakfast
this morning; it’s the only food I have at home.
An hour later I score VIP parking by the
lifeguard station. Fuck warming up, I just want to get back in the water. J is
here, and there’s no telling when this window of good surf is gonna close.
As I paddle out, I notice that the tide has
come up a bit, there’s just a little ripple in the water, and the surf is just
a little less consistent. I turn and go on the inside, but it’s a closeout. It
was a dumb move, so I tell myself to be patient.
Once I get to the outside, I see J to my
north. I wave him over. The last time I surfed with him was over the summer
when Bri and I had our campsite. It’s been too long. We catch up on our lives,
but we’re soon distracted by oncoming waves.
#
So what can I say? Now, two research papers
later, a finished semester, at 0131 in the morning, sitting in front of my
student desk with a dry mouth, and wearing my crusty ass shorts, I remember
this session and wonder how to write it. Let me start by saying that the
forecast was off, way off. It was the hidden/unnoticed swell. We surfed for
four fucking hours without it getting crowded. I would compare this day to the
first time I surfed with Klaude and Nicky on an epic day at 26th years ago; it was just the three of us
from the DRC that morning, the day I really feel like KK and I bonded. The only
thing different from that day is the crowd and the size, but still, epic today
by the consistency, thin crowd, and wave quality.
#
I haven’t used the JS in a while, and I’m
immediately biased against it. I know I can get backhand snaps on it, but my
forehand on this board has been slow to progress.
On one of my first rights to start round
two, I get a deep bottom turn and try to hit the lip really late. I pull of the
turn but fall on the reentry. With the 6’3 length of the JS, whipping that nose
around with quickness is hard not to notice. When I paddle back, J says, “Hey,
you’re starting to get some spray.”
J . . . his nickname is bionic J because
for some reason, even though he doesn’t look like a beast, he still manages to
paddle into waves when he looks like he’s scratching out. But today he is more
in the right place than he is bionic. For some reason, the best waves come
straight to him, and he is always in the right spot. He gets the longest rides
all the way to shore, disappearing and only returning to the lineup after I’ve
had at least three more waves to myself but not near the quality that he is
getting.
Wave of the
day:
A long, tapered, left-hand shoulder pops
up. I’m way on the shoulder not near the peak at all, but the second I pop up,
the section builds, nice and tapered. I’m pumping down the line but pumping
with speed. I don’t remember the JS being this fluid. Once I’m going fast, I
climb the face and stomp on the tail to get a deep carve on the face. It works.
I don’t know how I looked doing it, but it felt fucking outstanding. I pump
again, getting an ending carve to finish off the wave. A guy paddling past me
turns to me and says, “I saw that! That was a good wave.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Yeah, man. I seen the look on your face
when you got it and when you ripped it.”
I don’t think I “rip” anything, but it’s
nice to get noticed for something like that.
HUNGER:
The last hour, all J and I can talk about
is food. I’m starving. He’s starving. We compare meals. All he had was a cold
slice of pizza when he woke up, so we’re both not doing so well on fuel. My
muscles are cramping and my stomach hurts. I think about what would satisfy me
this instant. Seafood Town in Torrance comes to mind. I imagine that large
plate of beef chow fun and walnut shrimp before me. Then I think about Chinese
Buffet in Torrance. Buffet . . . I need all you can eat right fucking now.
We make a pact to stay until the sun sets,
but at 1600 the onshore winds finally take toll and make the water choppy. We
leave.
 |
| BEYOND STOKED |
After we change, we head to Havana Sandwich
Company in El Segundo. Shan meets us. After our Cuban grub, we head next
door to Mandy’s for some apple pie ala modes and a banana split. God I love the
South Bay, especially this El Segundo community. I used to live here; I wish I
still did. I play with the thought of living around the corner, how nice it
would be to do all this on foot, to just retire in an apartment on the next
street over. One day . . .
#
We could’ve kept on going, drinking at some
of the little bars, but I had work the next day. After all, that whole day was
dedicated to surfing. That was the last time I hit the water. By this time last
week, I was up writing a research paper. But just that epic session, the swell
that nobody knew about, it was just unreal to be out there all day, in the
afternoon when the wind usually sucks, and to have it good with only a few guys
out. That session has sustained me since. I remember that left, the speed I had
on the JS, that carve on the face without losing momentum. . . . I just can’t
wait to do it again.
 |
| Checking out the surf on Friday the 14th. No bueno. |
 | |||
| Even Rick's not feeling it, but he wanted to at least check out the drained-out tide. |
 |
| Waiting for the next swell |
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