Loc: El
Porto
Time: 1000-1200
Conditions:
4-5 FT, walled, sunny
This morning it was onshore and looked like
crap. I left, waiting for a better window. So that’s why I’m at Porto, having
scored free parking on 45th. Yes.
Down below, I can see the slice of ocean
that is 45th, between Chevron and the yuppie beach houses. A surfer
on a right glides on a high-tide right towards the inside. The wind has died,
giving the ocean glassy perfection. Clever, so clever to have waited for the
right window.
If I’m so clever, why am I struggling to
catch my first wave? It turns out that half of the South Bay is clever too. It’s
crowded, but the surf is pumping and consistent enough to spread everyone out.
I miss my first good wave. It’s perfect and
punchy, but my paddle is off, and I bury my nose in the water. It’s like
hitting the e-brake, and the wave peels off away from me.
On the next bomb, the face is so choppy
that I lose balance. My wide fish works against me, its deck wide like a table
top, and every bump on the surface sends me teetering.
And then it happens. The wind turns
onshore, making the walled waves even faster. Some guys are getting decent
rides, the smaller ones on the inside are all right. But most of us are dodging
the walls, or paddling into them just to go straight. Another surfer looks at
me. He slaps the water in disgust from not catching a wave in a while.
We’re all the same. I’ve been out for
nearly two hours, and everyone else has been out here just as long, waiting for
that quality ride. What errands or priorities are we all neglecting just to be
here? If the surf was good, it wouldn’t be an issue, but right now it sucks. To
prevent wasted time, we’re all out here, trying to form a shoulder onto the
walls coming for us. And yet, nothing . . . not even one turn.
My thesis is due on Friday, and I change
back at my car on top of 45th, upset that the window I had chosen
was the wrong one.
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