Loc:
Manhattan Beach
Time:
1000-1100, 1 hr.
Crew: Shan
Conditions:
4FT+, low tide, punchy, consistent, glassy, clean, peaky, fun, and overcast.
I have duty this weekend, so I can’t dawn
patrol it because I need to get to the barber shop before the line gets too
long. Once I’m done, I receive a text from Shan that he’s paddling out. The
surf forecast said it was two-three, poor to fair conditions, so I’m in no
hurry. Red sacks cover the meters in Manhattan Beach. It turns out that the
parking is free because of the holidays. I make my usual loop around the
lifeguard station, in search of free parking, when I get a glimpse of the
ocean. Some guy is going down the line on a perfect, right-hand shoulder. “Oh
shit!” My mellow drive for a spot turns into quick turns of the steering wheel.
I need to park this bitch. I score an empty metered spot on Marine. I’m trying
to tell myself to calm down, but I still rush, already caked with sun block
before I step out of the wagon. With my trusty Tokoro, I trot down to the sand.
Once I see the waves, I’m damn near at full sprint to get to the tower.
My warm up is cut short, which is a
complete no no, but I can’t help it. Shan’s out there somewhere, but I don’t
see him.
The tide is low, but the waves are still
consistent. The marine layer makes everything look cold, but the water is
surprisingly warm. The first shift is clearing out, so the lineup isn’t too
crowded, which is ridiculous because the conditions are so clean. With the tide
push, it can only get better.
Once I make it to the outside I spot Shan.
We catch up. He says he’s been so busy with his photography business and that
he only has time to surf during off season.
It takes a while before I catch my first
wave, but when I do it’s a right. It’s a solid three feet, maybe just a hair
over it, but the shoulder stands and builds up into a good, down-the-line wave.
I snap off the lip with a little extra mustard, both because of my poor
performance on Saturday and because I haven’t seen Shan in a while. The shape
is standing up to the point where it’s giving speed but not round enough to barrel.
With each consecutive top turn I keep momentum. Four turns later my ride is over.
Four turns . . . I can’t even remember the
last time I got four turns out of a wave, especially here in the South Bay. And
the crowd is thinning, cars are leaving the lot, but this . . . this shouldn’t
be left behind. This day is TOO GOOD!
Shan and I keep going, exchanging waves.
Some waves stand up more than others. I catch a right. I’m way behind the
section, but I’m blindly fading out, rubbing the water out of my eyes as I try
to regain composure. I have an awkward fall in the flats. My board flips over
and I land on my fins. When I resurface, I check my ass to make sure I’m not
cut. I have a bad feeling. I flip the Tokoro over. A fin broke off, completely
pulling out the fin plug with it.
I search the immediate area for it, but
it’s gone. The gouge where the fin plug used to be is serious; water’s getting
into my Tokoro. I paddle back out to Shan to tell him what happened. Just then,
a guy to our right raises up both of his hands and points past us. We look.
It’s the biggest, most perfect left that I’ve seen here in a while. It’s
standing up with a long, tapered shoulder, just begging to be ripped. Shan and
I are the only ones in position, but I paddle over it because of my lost fin.
“Just try surfing it like that,” says Shan.
“I’ve lost fins before and still surfed.”
“But it’s just the right fin.”
“Ohhhh,” he says. “Just give it a shot.”
On the next left, I pop up but the board
feels too loose. The last thing I want to do is injure myself. I tell Shan that
I’m gonna fix my JS and come back.
On the way out, I see Kevin, the guy from
the Santa Monica Surf Club who I surfed Baja with in the summer of 2011. We
exchange some kind words. As much as I wish I could join them, I can’t. I have
to leave during one of the best, unnoticed swells of the year.
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