ANNUAL DRC CHRISTMAS SESH, TUE 25DEC2012 MOR

 

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0700-1030

Crew: Randy, Klaude, Khang, Dais, Hideki.  

Conditions: 5 FT, offshore, consistent, walled with a mix of shoulders, uncrowded.

     My bro flew in last night. He spent the night at my studio, which was a terrible mess. Even though this place fits me well, it doesn’t accommodate a second person. Tomorrow we’d be surfing with the DRC in the morning and having dinner with my family in the evening.

#

     Randy knows the plan and where we’re surfing, but I still suggest for us to at least have a look at Porto before heading further south. On the way there, Rick calls. He says that he has to watch the girls today, so he can’t paddle out. When I tell him I’m not surfing Porto, he says, “Porto has man waves. Where you surf is for sissies.”

     My brother laughs.

     “John’s there right now,” says Rick. “You guys should go check him out.”

     After I get off the phone, Randy says, “At least he tells the truth . . . but I like the crowd better where you surf.”

     When we pull into the Porto lot, we spot John, Gary, and Russell. Randy and I look at the swell. Big, shouldery peaks are rolling in, and it’s not even crowded yet. It’s obvious that the surf is good here. I wave to Russell and say, “We’re gonna check further south.”

     “Really?” he says. He has a tone that suggests that we’re making a bad decision. But I can’t back out. Today I have an annual DRC paddle out. I have to go.

     Randy looks at me, noticing I'm in a bit of dismay. “I’m okay,” he says. “Do your thing. Surf with your friends.”

     It’s easy for him to say this, as he just flew in from Hawaii, catching a solid swell, at least six feet Hawaiian scale. My bro never says “six feet” unless it’s big, and when he says “big” that means that it’s fucking humungous.

     When we drive to the next spot, we catch Klaude and Hideki heading out to the sand. I stop him and tell him that Porto is way better than this spot.

     “Really?” he says.

     I’m trying to convince him to change location. Khang even calls and is interested in my current report.

     Klaude looks at the surf then looks back at me and says, “Yeah, but we can have all of this to ourselves.”

     My bro and I look out. A right hander peels in, nice and soft. It’s close to five feet.

     “Yeah, there’s some shoulders out there,” says Randy.

     “Okay,” I say.

     Klaude laughs. “That was easy!”

#

     Randy and I warm up on the sand together, but I cut my warm up short. I just want to get out there. I meet the boys in the water. We give each other a “Merry Christmas.” My brother paddles out shortly, also exchanging holiday greetings with the other fellas. He paddles out a little north of us, catching a right-hand bomb, drawing first blood. Klaude hoots him on, as a bucket of water sprays out the back. Randy does it again. And then another one.

     Seeing this puts me in the zone. My bro’s here; I wanna surf hard and get me one of those too. I’m not aware if anyone else is on one, but I catch a right too, maybe a little smaller than my brother’s, but I get a good, opening snap. It feels good, like I threw something out as well. I get a second one before the wave bogs out. Klaude, Khang, and Dais are throwing me shakas. It must have looked decent. And then . . . it’s like a Wild West shootout.

     Everyone is catching waves; that first, early window is good for at least an hour. My bro goes late, really late way behind the section, still making it to the open face and cranking turns. I get at least three more solid rights, good down-the-line ones, just begging to be carved.

     Sure, Porto was better, but the surf here is less crowded, I’m with my boys, and we’re having a stoked session. This Christmas session is also special to me because my bro is here, and he’s surfing with all my friends on a good day; it’s a dream come true.

#

     Towards the end of the session, the shape gets more walled, and more surfers start trickling into the lineup. Hideki is now on the sand, taking photos, but I’m so tired that I can’t manage to get any good rides. Even though the waves are closing out, I see my brother in front of me as I’m paddling back out. He’s going on a bomb right, pumping and driving in the barrel. The look on his face is intense. He barely has any room to work with, but he’s focused, staring in front of him while working his board. The wave clam shells before he makes it to the end. I’m lucky he doesn’t, as I would have gotten run over.

     Randy and I are back at the car, changing, just past the three hour mark. I’m so tired and worn out, but I had so much fun. Thanks to Klaude, we made the right call. It’s a DRC Christmas session to remember. We’ll be looking back on this one for sure.