THE FOURTH, THU04JULY2013 MOR

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Crew: Cheryl and Klaude

Conditions: 1-2 FT+, inconsistent.

     I had texted Rick last night, asking him if I could borrow his Zippy Fish. I had to because the surf is just dwindling down. I need more board. He never responded.

     It’s 0600 when I score my free parking spot on the slope on the hill one block away from the sand. My phone lights up. It’s  a text from Rick: Gonna head by and drop off the fish.

     He pulls up in his van next to my car, and I unload his board.

     He looks at me and says, “You don’t like to surf Porto anymore huh?”

     “No, I don’t mind Porto. It’s just that the crowd here is better, more mellow. I’m a familiar face over here. I know everyone.”

     He looks out and scratches his chin. “It looks all right here, but it’s a little bit bigger over there.” He looks down at the metered lots and says, “All right. I’ll go park.”

     There’s not much on tap as far as surf goes. Even south facing beaches aren’t seeing much swell, so deciding to stay local isn’t a bad idea, and since it’s the fourth of July, we need to paddle out early to bead the holiday crowd. 

     As expected, the surf is small in front of the lifeguard tower. Rick and I warm up, watching the little two footers roll through. When we paddle out, Rick sits by Roy and chats with him for a while. I’m stoked to be on Rick’s Zippi. I haven’t ridden this thing for a while, so I look forward to catching these small waves with minimum effort and making the flat sections. Surprisingly, a plus set pops out of the back. I paddle into it and start pumping down the line. The fish feels slow and sluggish. I bottom turn and try to crank out a nice top turn, but I stall over the lip and the wave passes me. The whole morning is like this. Every time I try to turn I end up losing the wave.

     Within the next forty-five minutes, the holiday crowd starts to arrive. What was an empty lineup becomes packed. Rick and Roy still milk rides on the inside despite how small the surf is. It just comes to show how much experience makes a difference. 

     Rick leaves, and then Cheryl and Klaude show up. Cheryl spends more time going back and forth to her car to either feed the meter or secure her car keys that she forgot in her door. By the time she comes back, the tide has killed the surf. I still struggle to get a good ride on the fish. Klaude even exchanges boards with me to no avail. I don’t know what happened. I used to know how to ride the Zippi.

     Klaude and I walk back to our cars, wishing each other a happy Fourth. And . . . that’s it. I didn’t expect much surf, so I can’t say that I was disappointed. 

     For the evening, Bri and I walk to Boris’ house and have dinner with his wife and kids. It’s a total “couple” thing to do. Afterwards, we walk to El Segundo Park on foot to watch the firework show. This is the first time that I’ve lived in a community where I can walk to my friend’s house, the park, and back home within a reasonable distance. It’s one of the rare Fourth of Julys where I don’t have to be kept awake by celebratory gunfire. I love this town. Now . . . if only we had some swell. . .