Loc: El
Porto
Crew: Bri,
Dave T., Gary C., Bri
Time: 0700-0830
Conditions:
2-3 FT, inconsistent, offshore, sunny, crowded.
Surfline says that the surf will be “poor
to fair,” but I’m realizing that I can’t trust Surfline one-hundred percent.
Living this close to the beach, I’d be a fool not to look at it myself. Rick
and his WHC homies will be out in the water too, so it will be nice to see
them. Even though the swell is backing off to nil, I have a feeling that there
will be some leftover energy, and if any break in the South Bay will be working
today, it will be Porto.
El Segundo’s foggy as I drive through Main
Street, but the sky clears up as I drive down 45th Street. There are
two empty parking spots on the hill, so I pull into one. It’s nice to get a
break from feeding the meters. The parking here is good until 0900, and I think
two hours will be enough.
On the sand, I already spot Rick in the
water in front of the bathrooms. Gary and Dave are with him too. The first shift
of surfers begins to bunch up in front of 45th. There’s a right
there that’s been working, so I’m not surprised. But I am surprised at Rick’s
choice of where to surf since it looks inconsistent there.
Bri and I paddle out. Gary’s already on a
two-foot right, pumping and getting some tags off the lip. He sits further
south all by himself.
It doesn’t take long before the crowd at 45th
multiplies and spreads all the way to the bathrooms. Now there’s a pack there,
and Bri and Rick are sitting in the middle of them.
To start things off I get a left that
closes out. My next wave is just as fast, but I do a little foam climb and
stick the landing.
The waves are still a little lined but much
shorter than yesterday, so it’s easier to chase down the shoulders.
Bri has a good start this morning. On one
right, she raises her arms as she drops into the face of the wave, riding it
all the way to shore. Everyone on the inside watches. Gary watches too and
says, “Gidget!” to himself.
On Bri’s next wave, the same thing happens.
Rick turns to me from across the lineup and yells, “Matt, I think your
girlfriend is showing you up!”
Dave T. is having a hard time, and I can
see it from the look on his face: frustration. He’s on my outside on a left. I
have priority, and I see him watching me as he scratches for it. I pull out and
motion my hand forward, giving him the signal to go. I don’t mind sharing waves
with buddies. Anything to prevent an aggro session. And then I go through an
aggro moment of my own. On a right, I’m all alone because the wave right before
it has washed everyone out towards the inside. As I’m scratching for it, I can
see that this is a good wave with a well defined shoulder, a sight that’s been
rare during the recent swell. It’s a set wave, so I have speed as I drop in,
and I get a good snap off the lip. Just as I set myself up to climb the face
once more, some guy who isn’t even looking back snakes me. “Hey!” I say. He
looks back, but I can tell from his body language that he’s too committed to
pull out, so he rides the wave straight before jumping off.
When we resurface, he says, “Sorry, man.”
“It’s okay,” I say, but it’s not okay. I’m
fuming. Porto is already crowded as it is, but when people snake you, it takes
away a wave. Sometimes it’s hard just to get one good wave because there are so
many people. So my wave of the day is gone, thanks to this old Japanese dude
(some of my best friends are Japanese, handsome Japanese guys at that [KK &
Dais]).
Now the crowd has just enveloped the
lineup. It’s a cluster fuck out in the water. Everyone is sitting on top of
each other. Guys are sitting on every position: outside, middle, and inside.
Gary paddles up to me and says, “Where were
these motherfuckers two days ago?”
Indeed. Where were they? When the swell is
pumping, most people don’t want to paddle out. They’re at home waiting for the
swell to back off so they can feel much safer, and this morning they’re all out
at once.
I paddle north to escape the crowd, but
there are people everywhere. I tell Bri that I wish a six-wave cleanup set
would just roll through and clear everyone out.
My only hope is to let a wave come to me,
and I don’t know how, but I’m the furthest one outside in the perfect spot to
take off on a left. Towards the inside, everyone else paddles out to beat it.
How did I get this to myself?
I pop up deep behind the section but hold a
high line to make it to the open face. I bottom turn and tag the lip once. I’m
pumping down again, and Gary’s in front of me scratching into the wave. “Whoa!”
I say. He sees me and pulls out. I have clearance. I get an emphatic gouge on
the shoulder, flaring my arms out and displacing some water. It’s a power turn,
my best frontside turn in a while, wave of the day easy. The wave tapers off on
my last little check, but it feels great. Suddenly, I’m okay with the guy who
had dropped in on me earlier. I’d massage his balls. I’m cool. I got my wave of
the day and connected two good turns. It’s not bad considering the crowd.
Soon the WHC leaves, and it’s just Bri and
I. I’m in position for another left, but there are so many guys in the inside
that running over them is unavoidable. I’m about to drop in a wave, but I pull
out, or I try to pull out. I straddle my board, hoping to turn it around, but
the wave sucks me down with it.
Back at the shower, Bri and I take turns
rinsing, and then I notice that my fin sliced my right foot on that last
wipeout. What sucks is that it’s on top of my foot on the outer edge, right
where my slipper strap goes.
After some Neosporin and breakfast, Bri and
I head to the gym, and then Rick gives me a call.
“Matt,” he says. “What color is Bri’s
board? Is it blue?”
“Yeah. Blue on the deck with white rails.”
I’m on the stair climber. I was watching Who
is JOB? On my iPhone, so I’m able to talk to him (I’m a surf geek).
“You might want to check swellmagnet. I
think Bri’s on there, but it’s hard to tell.”
Sure as shit, when I get home I see a
picture of Bri posted on the slideshow from two days ago when we had surfed
Porto. Fuck, she made the swellmagnet.com slideshow before I did! Either way, I’m
stoked for her.
That’s my trophy meat on swellmagnet, that’s
right.
Bri’s lying down with a headache. She moans
and asks me to get her some Advil. “I got something that will cheer you up,” I
say. I show her the picture on my laptop. Her face goes from aching to smiling.
I think her headache will go away in no time.
No comments:
Post a Comment