Crew: KK,
Leslie, CC, Bec
Time:
0715-0900
Conditions:
2-3 FT, clean, offshore, walled
Balance:
After spending the whole day blogging
yesterday, I ate dinner, cleaned up my JS board, and I got ready for bed. In
the middle of brushing my teeth, I got a phone call. I looked at my iPhone. It
was my cousin from Sacramento calling. The last time he called was three weeks
ago, but I was so busy I let the phone ring without picking it up. I hesitated
with a mouth full of toothpaste, looking at the name HAYDEN on the screen. I
couldn’t blow him off again. I picked up the phone with a fake, excited tone.
“Heyyyy!” he said, surprised that he was
talking to a living being, “I thought I was gonna get your voicemail!”
We covered the “minors,” which is catching
up about family and what we’ve been up to lately. I told him about my
girlfriend that he had no idea about, that’s when I realized that it’s been
longer than a couple months that we talked. I’m an asshole, I thought. I get so
wound up in my own shit sometimes that I let my friendships fall to the
wayside. Seven months ago I was desperate to reestablish those connections; I
needed friends more than ever.
I told him how I’ve been struggling for
balance and barely have the time to surf, about trying to find time to exercise
in between, and how I plan to make more “cuts” this week. Then he gave me a
revelation that I didn’t expect to hear from him.
“You have to surf,” he said. “That’s your
connection with nature, something to balance you out. Keep you ‘human.’”
So that’s that, that’s what he told me. I
think I’ve been doing too much. So now it follows. I think I’ll just say fuck hitting
the gym this spring semester and focus more on squeezing in sessions wherever I
can.
NEED GOOD
WAVES:
It’s day three of my “staying local” plan.
I fail to get up as early as yesterday but still wake up with the same raging
piss boner as always. I push my erection into the toilet bowl while I sit and
yawn. The hot stream of urine works its way through the solid roll of wiener,
running parallel with the primary vein at the top of my shaft.
I grab the JS that I stripped last night
and put fresh coats of base and cool water wax on. It looks so clean. I can’t
remember the last time the JS looked this good.
Instead of hopping on the 405 North, I experiment
with taking Marine all the way to the coast. It’s a shorter distance, but there
are a lot of stop signs and speed restrictions which make the drive longer.
Of course, there is no free parking. I spot
Klaude’s van, but he’s long gone from the lot already. I park across from him. The
local vet Bruce is already posted, talking to the old timers in the upper lot.
My boardshorts and rashguard are in my bag,
but the air feels a little cool. I chicken out and throw on the wetsuit. I won’t
be the Boardshort Mamba today.
I spot KK and Leslie on the sand, warming
up before I cross the run path. By the time I get to the sand, they are already
in the water. He’s pushing her into the whitewash. She gets up with a wide,
water bug stance. Her hands are reaching forward to balance the unstable,
nine-foot behemoth. She falls. KK shoots her into the next wave. She purls.
Awwww yes, the glories of barneyism! Enjoy.
I make my walk into the shallows, waving
down Klaude. He smiles when he sees me an approaches in short steps.
I wave him back off and point to the
lineup. He needs to focus his attention on his padawan.
#
I can’t tell if the surf is better than
yesterday. Today supposed to be smaller, but there are still waves. The tide’s
approaching mid level, and the conditions are clean, but the waves are breaking
section-into-section. Some waves look peaky but end up being walls. Or if they
have shoulders, they dump really fast because of the tide.
Still, I’m hoping to get lucky like
yesterday, getting a fun ride here and there. First I catch some closeouts and
go straight, and then I experiment with getting slotted in the closeouts. None
of the rides standout.
The current is taking us north of 26th,
so I paddle back every couple minutes. It’s more crowded by the tower, and
where I am, north of, there aren’t as many people.
No
Reservations:
Finally, I’m in position for the left
shoulder of a wall. It looks tapered and small, but I know that (on a day like
this) I’m in the best place for distance; it’s gonna line up and give me an
open face.
There’s this other guy who looks exactly like
Anthony Bourdain surfing in the same area. Sometimes
I wonder if it’s actually him. I’m working my way over to the shoulder
because I’m a little deep, but he starts working his way over from the opposite
side.
How can he not see me? He has to see me
because he has to paddle directly towards me and turn around in order to get
this wave. I paddle and pop up just behind the shoulder. The ride is starting
off with good shape, just a good tapered shoulder that begins to go vertical,
but lines up well for at least one explosive turn. And what does Bourdain look-alike
do? He drops in right in front of me. I can’t pump and gain speed because he’s
right there. I wipeout from being caught in the section. When I resurface, I’m
wearing a frustrated look, it’s the “Gee, man . . . I really just came here to
surf and not deal with any assholes” look. I turn to Bourdain.
He has the “I’m sorry I just farted on your
ham sandwich look,” the look that says, “I know I could have farted anywhere
else, but I had to go, and your ham sandwich just so happened to be there. . .
. Sorry.” He looks at me with a pity-me countenance. He puts his hand up in a
friendly gesture.
I wave back, but I paddle to get away from
him. I guess I had No Reservations.
#
KK unscrews the training wheels, swims next
to Leslie while she paddles out, and then he goes back in to get his Don K. Rocket.
Leslie drifts so far outside that she can
barely hear Klaude when he yells for her. Instead of turning around to paddle
towards the beach, she throws the board in R and paddles backwards while still
facing the horizon.
Despite the one-to-two foot forecast, there
are some waves coming through. KK and I paddle for a lot of them, either going
straight or pulling out. I’m still looking for the same gem that Bourdain
ruined earlier.
I recognize Bec in the lineup. She’s
sitting to my south. I paddle up to her. She says that Christina is on the sand
still warming up.
“How was your trip?” I ask.
“Oh, it was beautiful!
“How far north did you go?”
“Portland.”
“PORTLAND?!” I see KK paddling up to us. I
try to introduce them but Klaude takes a wave. “Did you get to surf on your
trip?”
“Yes, I went to that one spot, ummmm,” she
looks down at her board then looks back at me, “Steamers Lane!”
“Oh shit, you surfed Steamers? Wow, I heard
it’s pretty localized. I’ve seen it but never surfed it.”
“Yes, the locals had it down so well. They
ride the waves so close to the rocks. It was un-bee-leevable! I only caught
one.”
Klaude paddles up. I introduce them.
Bec’s got quite the itinerary coming up.
She’s going to El Salvador on Tuesday, then Nicaragua, and then back to San
Francisco to catch a flight to Hawaii. Somewhere in November, she plans to be
back in Australia.
“I’ll be back in a shitty time,” she says. “I
might have to find work in the mines.”
I pause. “Wait . . . the mines? Like with a
hardhat, helmet light, and a pick?”
“No,” she says, “more like sifting through
small rocks. It’s pretty boring actually.”
I explain that I’ve never met anyone who
worked in the mines, and my mental image is the stereotypical stuff you see on
TV. I guess it’s like me telling people I used to pick pineapples, and most
people think pineapples grow on trees.
“Damn, is Christina still stretching?” says
Klaude.
#
The four of us are in the water, going for
whatever’s there. Bec says she feels rusty. She pops up too early on some
waves, unable to get into them. I’m being picky, looking for something with a
shoulder. I really want a turn.
After a closeout, I’m on the inside working
my way back. I see a classic Dump Rider set roll in. CC goes for broke, paddles
in and goes straight. Beck pops up a little late, ditches her board, and rolls
into the falls.
I can’t get an open face for the life of
me. What a shame with such good conditions. I just want some shape. I need to
go down the line; even single shot turns would be awesome. To my north, I see a
regular footer going right. He gets an arcing turn; he’s so fast and fluid it’s
like he’s slicing into it. I guess there are good waves here, but I’m just not
getting them.
#
I contemplate on feeding the meter and staying
longer, but I have some obligations. My homeboy Sebastian’s birthday was
yesterday, and I promised to take him out to breakfast. I say my goodbyes to
Bec. I wish I could stay longer, but a little bit of face time is better than
none at all. We’ll keep in touch.
Klaude, Leslie, and I change back at the
lot.
I didn’t get my San Onofre fill on Friday,
so it feels like forever since I caught a down-the-line ride, but I don’t
regret staying local. I’m stoked I got to see Bec, and yesterday was a good
turnout for the DRC. Friday I got so surf with Whiff, which barely happens because
I’m not at Porto as much. I have work next weekend, so I’ll miss out on surf
for at least a week. I hope I can follow Hayden’s advice and sneak in one more
session before I have to report on Friday.
