I NEED A FISH, SAT 15FEB2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0630-0845

Conditions: 1-3 FT, sunny, warm, glassy, mooshy, high tide

     It’s 0530. Bri’s still conked out. Even after I turn on the TV and play Who is JOB (Pipeline sequence), she only rolls over to bury her face in her pillow (yes, I’m a surf geek). Whatever tiredness that I had felt is gone. Jamie O’Brien has me stoked, yesterday’s surf session still has me stoked too, so I’m ready to get an early start.

     The sound of the running water to full up the water jugs finally jars Bri loose from the mattress. We’re at Manhattan Beach by 0615.

     We’re early but we’re late. Prime barking by the lifeguard station is taken, so we have to park on Highland Ave. Changing in the dawn’s, light-blue light, with the radio turned down but still loud enough to nod my head to, I feel dedicated to have woken up so early. Few cars are on the streets, curtains are still closed with lights off, and the cool morning air are confirmation to belonging to the few, the proud, the dawn patrollers.

     I expect the surf to be just like yesterday if not better, but walking down the hill towards the beach, the peaks looks smaller and weak.

     We pass Vietnam-Vet Mike again, now watching the surf from his VIP parking spot that’s right in front of a house on the strand. He looks at us and says, “It’s definitely not like yesterday.”

     In the lineup, we surf next to a longboarding local who wears boardshorts over his wetsuit. He and Bri are the only ones catching waves. Another guy, on a shortboard like myself, tries to pump down the line, but the waves are so small and soft that it’s hard to turn. He struggles. We both struggle. I get a right, forcing a backhand snap before it mooshes out. He gets a frontside layback snap. After that, there’s just too much tide for any shortboarder to do anything.

     Later, I spot Klaude in front of the lifeguard tower south of us. I paddle towards him. Orlando is here, his homie Jose, Robert, and some over veteranos.

     Klaude’s on a shortboard like myself.

     I wish I would have brought the Becker board today, but I thought the surf was better. And now, despite my lecture on riding the right equipment, I’m on the wrong equipment.

     Bri’s able to get so many rides. Each time she gets to shore is like a slap in the face. Idiot, I think to myself. And then again, it’s not so much than I’m an idiot because I’ve been watching Craigslist for a good deal on a fish: preferable 5’8 length X 20 wide X 2.5 thick. I had missed out on a deal that I took too long to pull the trigger on. The best deal right now is all the way in San Diego.

     I don’t mind longboarding, but that’s Bri’s board right now. I’ve ridden fat fishes before, and I’ve done well in mooshy and small conditions on them. I need one right now.

     Our friend Deathwish Dave shows up. He lives in Mississippi right now, only in town visiting. He paddles out and tells us how he wants to move back so badly.

     I switch boards with Bri, easily catching three waves. Even with the waves breaking closer to shore, I muscle into them early to at least get some distance.

     Afterwards, I depart with the NSP, strapping the Lost Mini Driver back to my ankle. I tell Bri that I’ll wait for her on the sand.

     I sit on the shore on my board’s rail with the opposite end pitched in the sand. At least it’s good for sitting on.