Wednesday, April 23, 2014

WINTER’S REVENGE, MON 21APR2014


Loc: Manhattan Beach
Time: 0700-0900
Crew: Bri, Klaude
Conditions: 4-5FT+, walled, punchy.

A Kook’s Tale:
     Yeah, so this is me being honest. I was so stoked for the surf forecast on Monday that I had stayed up late Sunday night, going through all my boards. I was nerding out, taking the fins off of my boards, comparing rockers, and deciding which board I’d use the next day. I went with the Lost Mini Driver, my big-wave board, even though I didn’t expect the surf to be “big,” I just wanted something that I could practicing “pulling in” with.
     So I waxed my board, screwed on the quad-fin setup, and prepacked my wagon.
#
     It’s a little dark out, so I can’t really tell what the surf is doing, but then I see a wave closeout. The size looks small because I’m up on a hill, but I’m not alarmed.
     Bri’s has also pulled into the parking lot. She’s gonna get a surf session in before work.
     I grab my board and head down to the sand, meeting up with Bri. There are only a few people out. The surf is about four feet and dumpy because of the tide, but it still looks manageable.
     We paddle out together. I haven’t used this board in a while. It’s thick and has a lot of volume. On my first duckdive, I feel how much harder it is to submerge my board. It’s funny how riding different equipment can really throw you off sometimes.
     Now a set comes, and I get worked trying to get out. I turn around. Bri’s still on the inside taking beatings. I’m panting by the time I make it out. Tired but alive.
     A right rolls in. I’m a little deep. I turn around to paddle for it, but I pull out at the last minute. The wave looked like it was lining up but a little too walled. The next wave looks the same. I turn like I’m going for it, but I pull out again, and that’s when I realize that I’m scared. Yeah, it’s the truth. There it is.
     It’s been a while since I’ve surfed waves with any size. In these moments, I remind myself about my second trip to Indo a year ago: the slab, the reef, the really sharp reef. But no matter where you travel, a big day is a big day, and being out of your comfort zone is all the same. Kind of like how people compare different kinds of cold weather. I was stationed in Germany when I was nineteen and had paid my dues sleeping in the snow, but on a cold SoCal winter, I can freeze just the same.
     Bri finally makes it out. She tries to go for the smaller waves, but it’s just one of those mornings when the small ones only break inside. There is no in between. It’s paddle into the big ones or hang out on the inside for the small ones and get pummeled. Regardless, I praise her for being out here. It’s a sparse lineup. Even the high school groms aren’t hogging it. Not everyone wants this.
     I get a good right early, getting two backhand snaps. It feels good, like some sort of redemption, but backing out of those two waves earlier haunts me.
     I go left, try to cutback, but I have so much speed that my board keeps going forward and slides out from under my feet.
     Bri leaves.
     I try to pig dog. On one right, I grab rail, and find myself at the base of the wave much earlier than expected. My pig dogging isn’t working.
     Klaude arrives. He has a hard time making it out too.
     I catch more waves, but I also pay for them. I get worked again, even ditch my board twice (I’m ashamed to admit that).
     The surf is getting more and more walled. Upset about the potential barrels I had dodged earlier, I start pulling into the lefts, just going for it, but they all closeout. I know they’ll closeout, but sometimes it’s fun just to pull in.
     Klaude leaves. So does most of the other surfers.
     The waves get inconsistent, even lose a little size. I’ve been out for two hours.
     When I get out of the water, I inspect my board to make sure I hadn’t dinged it, and that’s when I see that my right outer fin is missing. The FCS screws are loose. I must’ve forgotten to tighten them, and the fin must’ve fallen out earlier.
     I’m beyond pissed. I hate myself. Motherfucker. I was surfing with a fin missing. What an idiot. I was so stoked last night to get my board ready, and I forgot to screw in a fin?
     The cost of new fins comes to mind. They’re expensive.
     Back at my car, I check my fin bag, and . . . there’s the fin. I never even fucking screwed it in.
     Well, that explains why I slid out on my cutback and why I ended up at the base of the wave so soon when trying to pig dog.
#
     Later on that night, Klaude sends me the following text: You can’t get barreled from the parking lot. I reply, and then he fills me in on the story.
     He and Davey were in the parking lot when X and Y walks up to them. X says to Davey, “Were there really any barrels out there? I didn’t see you catch any?”
     Davey says, “X, all I know is that you can’t get barreled from the parking lot.”
     Klaude laughs out loud. X and Y aren’t feeling too manly anymore.
     So even though I didn’t surf well—and forgot a fin—at least I paddled out. At least Bri paddled out while guys in the parking lot preferred to stay dry and parking lot puss it.
     Even my friend Gary said he didn’t paddle out. He said that Rosecrans was just a big wall, no one out.
     I’m a kook for forgetting my fin, for nerding out all by myself in my garage the night before, prepping my equipment. But am I really a kook? I just feel like I’m the only one who nerds out the way I do when it comes to surf. If that makes me a kook, can you blame me?

     

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