WHEN IT’S NOT WALLED (double), WED 08JAN2014

Loc: El Porto

Crew: Gary C.

Time: 0715-1115

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, consistent, foggy, fast.

     Free parking and Porto don’t go hand in hand, but I have no choice but to bust a U turn when I see a free spot open on Highland Ave. The morning’s so foggy that I could have easily skipped the surf session, making the call that it’s miserable outside. It would have been so easy to just curl back up into my comforter and turn off the alarm. Instead, I’m walking down the hill to get a peek at the ocean.

     Now I stand here at the strand, eyeing the half-empty parking lot. I lose visibility half way to shore. The most I can see are the stones and patches of grass by the bike path, but I hear waves.

     After suiting up, I’m walking back down again, and every step on the down slope is jarring my shit looser and looser. I can hold in my shit though. It shouldn’t be that serious, but it hits me. The pressure builds against my anus. If it had been summer, I would’ve just shit in my shorts in the lineup, but I’m inconveniently already in my wetsuit.

     On the sand, I see the city workers standing in front of the bathroom entrance. I jog in place, waiting for them to leave, but they don’t. I walk right past them, wetsuit, surfboard, and all. They all look at me, but I try to avoid eye contact. Yes, I am the man who is about to blow up your toilet.

     If you’ve surfed El Porto before then you know that the bathroom stalls don’t have doors. When I walk in, there’s already another guy in here taking a shit. He doesn’t look up, but I feel connected with him. Here, two souls had made the same mistake earlier by not shitting at home. Together we can pay the price side by side.

    

NOT FOR BEGINNERS:

     Paddling out this morning, two images are ingrained in my mind.

1.  There’s a chick on a foamboard stuck on the inside. She’s wearing booties and gloves, even has a boonie hat on to keep out the sun, but the hat just looks ridiculous since it’s so fucking foggy out. Maybe the booties too. Maybe the board. Or maybe it’s just her. The inside whitewash is so consistent that she keeps getting knocked off of her board. The front brim of her hat is stuck in the up position. The whole time, she’s struggling with her board as if it was a mechanical bull, and the bull’s winning. At least she has all of her gear, but her gear is useless. The swell’s turned on a bit, and the noobies who were able to make it out the last some-odd days will do no such thing today.
2. A blonde guy on a blue fish is stuck on the inside too. Instead of trying to get back on his board, he’s off of it and resting his arms on top of its deck. The whitewash continues to slam into him, and he’s making no effort to get back onto his board. He has an aimless gaze as I paddle past him, and the look on his face says it all:
1. I didn’t expect it to be this hard to make it out
2. I thought I was better than this
3. I thought my paddle was stronger
4. I thought my duckdive was stronger
5. Surfing is a lot harder than I thought it was.

HOMIES:

     I hear someone yell, “Mateo!” in the lineup. All the guys around me are wearing wetsuits with hoodies, so I can’t see their faces. One of them waves at me. Upon closer inspection I see that it’s Gary.

     I have my own surf crew, but we’re spread pretty thin nowadays. Most of them have hectic work schedules, are injured, or have unfortunately lost dedication and love for surfing. I’m such a surf geek that it makes me upset to think about it sometimes, but I have to accept that surfing isn’t for everyone, and other people find other things to love besides it. But not me, surfing’s got me hooked, like a skank with a huge ass that always lets you hit no matter what.

     The water is so glassy and smooth, but the fog makes it a bit eerie, like a pirate ship is about to cruise through the lineup. The sun’s blocked out by the fog which creates a thick peach haze. The swell direction is making the waves break differently. They are peaky and standing up, but they are still a bit sectiony and closing out. However, there are some shoulders here and there.

     Since Gary has to go to work, I let him take some of the waves I’m in position for. In the middle of our exchange, a three-foot left comes my way. I get one snappy top turn and throw some spray out the back before it closes out.

     An hour later, the fog clears up. Gary is gone, and the lowering tide has the waves standing up even more. The waves are still rideable, but they are so fast that I can only pull. The window for carves has closed.

TRAINING:

     The rest of the session I’m pulling in. The barrels look makeable if I can just pop up on the shoulders. There are two waves where the shoulders throw out and go hollow. I pull in on each. I should be able to make it out, but I don’t. I don’t hold my line strong enough. Maybe I’m too upright. Maybe I thought I was better at riding barrels.

     After that, I try to be picky and choose the waves with shape that might at least give me some driving distance in the tube, but I don’t make it out on any.

     By the time I’m done surfing, there’s so much water in my sinuses from wiping out that I have a headache.

FOUR HOURS:

     But I’m not complaining about the surf. The conditions are perfect. It looks more like summer than the winter now that the fog’s cleared. What amazes me most is how even on the low tide, there is still some shape.

     Four hours later, and I’m back at the car changing. I can’t see the tan line on my neck, but I know it’s bad. My body doesn’t match with my head, and wearing a tank top or anything exposing my sternum would make a bad joke out of me.

     And it’s funny how I had woken up at first light this morning, and it’s already almost noon now. Half the day goes by just like that, and so does my energy. My back muscles are toast.

WHEN CONDITIONS CHANGE, WED 08JAN2014

Loc: El Porto

Crew: Bri, Khang, Dais

Time: 1500-1630

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, consistent, walled, onshore, choppy.

     I had sold Bri on the surf sesh this morning, and despite the report for onshore wind in the afternoon, I’m hoping that the conditions will still be decent.

     Khang and Dais have the afternoon off, so they’re heading to Porto too.

     When Bri and I get to the lot, there is texture on the water’s surface from the wind. Peaks are still rolling through like this morning, but just a hair smaller. The surf looks walled, but I make out some corners from pure desperation of wanting to paddle out again. 

     Bri and I paddle out first with the boys following shortly behind. We start off in front of the bathrooms, but a north current pulls us south towards Rosecrans.

     I get a racy little left, just pumping and pulling off a minor floater on the end section. Sets start rolling in, and they’re all walled.

     45^th has the most heads, and the right there is kind of working, but that’s where the evening patrollers are.

     Khang and Dais paddle north against the current, perching just north of the bathrooms. Bri gets the longest ride of the session, somehow making it down the line on a long racy right and literally going all the way to shore, walking on the sand with board in hand.

     I tell Khang and Dais how good it was earlier, and I’m trying to get a good ride to show that the surf is still good. I get a right and get one backhand snap, but that’s it.

     The boys do all right, getting one wave each that has some shape, but everything else is just walled. Bri has to pay for it on her longboard, getting worked on the inside too.

     “I think I’m going for my last one,” says Khang. We’ve only been out for an hour. I don’t blame him.