CHOOSE WISELY, FRI 28MAR2014

Loc: El Porto

Time: 0645-1000

Conditions: 4 FT, glassy, offshore, high tide, inconsistent, crowded.

     I paddle out at Porto, in front of the bathrooms, and spot Gary sitting outside. He paddles into a right. I had planned to surf here at first light before the tide, and . . . I was right. The wind is offshore, the water is glassy, and the peaks are scattered enough to be working from 45^th Street to the bathrooms, the sandwich shack, Rosecrans, and even further south.

     A bomb comes my way. I’m deep. Late. But I go for it anyway, resulting in the lip crashing onto my back, sending me into the depths.

     “That was such a good wave,” says Gary. “You were late, but you had to go.”

     Of course. When in the company of veteran chargers who shred, it’s always better to go too late than not go at all. If not, you’ll get your Porto Pass revoked.

     I had ditched the fish this morning, leaving it in the wagon. I’m on the Mini Driver. After yesterday’s beatings, I vowed to use my shortboards when the conditions call for it, and whipping out the Mini Driver seemed like a good idea. Our peak in front of the bathrooms slows down. Even 45^th does a little. Gary looks at me and gives me a shrug that tells all: The tide is killing it.

     At 0800 he leaves, so I book it back up the hill to swap boards. Really, I should’ve been on this board from the get go, but from the top of the hill it had looked like shortboard conditions.

     And even though the surf has swamped out and slowed down, nothing stops the incoming surf crowd. It’s Spring Break right now, but even grown ass adults who should be at work are out here. Is the economy still that bad? Are so many people still unemployed? Or maybe we’re all just surfers, right? Fucking the system, doing whatever it takes to be in the water, at all costs, whenever the conditions are right.

     Despite the excellent conditions, nothing can beat this tide but time. There are occasional outside waves that sweep through, but being in position is a bitch. Either the roguers break outside, or the inside waves break—nothing in between.

     I have a chance at a left. There’s a guy on my outside, I pop up late, looking down. Sticking the landing, I look down the line to prepare to pump, but some old guy is on the shoulder, heading straight towards me . . . going right on a LEFT. So I bail. I worry that the guy’s gonna run over my board. When I resurface, I see that the guy realizes he’s on a left and not a right, so he struggles to cutback and go down the line. Amazingly, I’m not pissed, like how I would usually be. It’s just so crowded and frustrating right now, I simply accept that this is EL PORTO.

     I’m “over it” at 0900, but I can’t leave. I’m stubborn. I know that the window’s gonna get good. I estimate by 0945-1000 the tide will drop. God willing, if the wind stays calm a good window of surf will open.

     I paddle back towards the bathrooms, and I get my first waves in almost an hour, but they are so mooshy that I get entry cutbacks and have to crouch down to stay in the pocket. There are bodies everywhere—elbow to elbow in the lineup and on the inside.

     Not only did I choose poorly when it came to board selection this morning, but I should have known that Porto would be packed. I should have known that the swell is backing out, compounded with a high-tide means that I should have done what I did yesterday—wait for the right window.

     Walking away from the surf, I turn around and face it once more. The peaks are beginning to stand up. It’s breaking well again from Rosecrans to 45^th. The size is down to 3-4 FT, but it’s still playful out there

     And I had been up since 0545. That was me, eating a banana in the dark with a cup of orange juice, expecting a solid session.