BIRTHDAY SESSION, SAT 29DEC2012 MOR

 

Loc: Rosecrans

Time: 0700-1000

Crew: Randy, Klaude, Rick, John A., Dave T., Jimmy B., Manny A. 

Conditions: 4-6 FT, offshore, big-long lines, torrential rain, freezing, fun.

     Last night I told Klaude that I’d be at 26^th at first light. I chose 26^th after having to deal with the El Porto crowd yesterday.

     Randy meets me at my place, and from there we head to Manhattan Beach but not before shooting a text to Rick first. I tell him that I’m not surfing Porto; I’m committed (as I told Klaude) to surf somewhere else.

     “Stop by 42^nd,” says Rick.

     I figure it’s on the way. Why not? We can stop by Porto, I can get my brother some face time with my surf mentor and the rest of his crew, and then we can head out from there.

     When we pull up, Rick’s already half changed. Dave, Jimmy, and John are with him. There’s a sense of urgency in the air on this gloomy morning. Rick looks stoked, and it’s hard not to let his stoke rub off on me. Rick doesn’t even need to make the suggestion that we should surf with them, at least not verbally. His body language alone is speaking, but not louder than the waves coming in. There’s some Porto juice out there, and even though the lines are big and long, they are tapered at the end. All you need is to be in the right spot, just not too deep so that you get caught behind the section.

     I call Klaude. He says he just made a left onto Vista Del Mar.

     “Porto looks good,” I say. “Rick and his crew are here . . .” I’m caught in a bit of a pickle. I don’t want to go back on my word to surf where we had originally had planned, but I’m caught in the moment. The surf is good, it’s not crowded, Rick is stoking me out, and I know my bro is down to get suited up right this second.

     “Well, it’s your birthday,” says Klaude. “Where do you want to surf?”

#

     Dave heads north of Rosecrans to paddle out. Jimmy says he spotted an unridden left south of Rosecrans, so Rick, John, Randy, and Klaude and I follow.

     If I was worried about the crowd, that’s definitely not a factor anymore. There are a few heads out. The lot is barely full. It’s probably because it’s still early.

     Out in the lineup, Jimmy says, “Look at the clouds.”

     “Yeah,” I say. “Looks biblical!” The clouds are high and grey. In the midst of the gray mass is a cone-shaped cloud; it looks like a top. The sun tries to make its way out. I expect that it will pierce through.

     The tide is high, and I’m expecting some of the peaks to be on the mooshy side, having to go late. A long line approaches with a left shoulder. I turn, thinking I’m in good position, but as soon as it hits the sand bar, it gets bigger. The volume of the wave moves like a space shuttle, slung by the hand of a giant. I don’t need to scratch to get into this one; the wave forces me into it. I can’t say that the wave is standing vertical or even throwing out, but in the six-foot range (Cali scale) there is enough size to generate speed. I pump until I’m on the open face. My bottom turn is more at mid face. I fail to generate power, so my top turn is more like a check turn. I pump for most of the ride, trying to build speed to set up for a good carve, but when I turn I get stuck and fall. I’m just not used to having this much face to work with, especially on my forehand. Either way, I’m stoked. There are waves.

#

     Cars begin to park in the lot, but no one’s getting out, and that’s because . . . it’s raining. It’s the most miserable of conditions, save for the offshore wind, which is strong and making it even colder. I’m sitting in ice water because of my 3/2 wetsuit. I have Francis’ 4/3, but it’s leaky. It’s been a rough winter.

     All of us are spread out from south of the sandwich shack to damn near 33^rd Street, but everyone gets rides.

     At about 0900, Rick and I head back to the meters to put some quarters in. Other land lovers stand by the lifeguard towers or inside their cars, debating, wondering, and pondering if they should pull the trigger or not. I don’t blame them, but at the same time, despite the cold, I’m so glad that I’m going back out there.

     The air temp is colder than the water. My feet are numb from the pavement. I tell Rick to hurry up so we can get back in there, for . . . warmth. We paddle out just north of Rosecrans. Eventually Klaude and my Bro join. I can’t keep track of who gets what waves. I remember seeing Rick go one some bombs, deep but confident on the board that he trusts. Manny also arrives and so does Jordan. 

     I can’t remember all of my rides, but I end the session with two good, long lefts. The biggest challenge of the day is changing in the rain in this freezing weather. John and Jimmy are in their vehicles with the heaters on full blast. Rick and I laugh at the conditions that we’ve put ourselves in. Dave puts more money in the meter and goes out to join Manny. Still, the people that came to watch are still in their cars or under the shade, watching. Most have left, leaving the lot barely at a quarter full. Not worth it to some, worth it to few, worth it to us.

#

     We all go out for breakfast afterwards, except for Manny, Dave, and Jordan. It wasn’t planned to have a nice birthday breakfast after. Bri even drives down to meet us. I’m not one for big get togethers held in my name. I guess it works out best when it’s spontaneous. Rick hands me some cash. It’s a donation towards my birthday present that I’m purchasing today. I’m buying the Al Merrick Motorboat Too. My sisters made some donations towards it as a Christmas/birthday present, and now Rick gives me a little something too. I appreciate it.

     Afterwards, Klaude, Randy, Bri, and I meet up with Khang to get my board. Randy insists on putting on the traction pad. I’m glad he does. I pick up a late birthday present for Bri, which is a hooded FCS towel so her boobs don’t pop out whenever she changes out of her wetsuit. It was a good birthday. I’m blessed to have such beautiful people in my life.