Loc: El
Porto
Time:
0645-0915
Conditions:
2-3 FT+, offshore, sunny, crowded.
Since the mild rain and massive onshore winds,
most people have been out of the water since Monday, which means that Porto’s
going to be crowded as soon as Surfline gives it the “green” rating.
I had planned on surfing HB, but the
forecast for Thursday kept downgrading and then finally upgraded before I had
decided to surf Porto. Also, my friend from school, Cassady, will be surfing here
as well.
There are many things that a surfer must
take into consideration. One, is going to bed early, but last night I couldn’t
help myself. I’m on spring break, and I work this weekend too, so I can’t help
but veg out and blast fools on the PS3, playing COD Ghosts. Two, is not eating
too late, but when Bri had gotten home last night, she brought me her leftovers
from the Mexican restaurant that she and her friends went to. It was a lot of
food.
So with four hours of sleep, my alarm goes
off at 0530. I take a steamy morning piss, boil some water for some hot
chocolate, and then Bri and I are out the door.
The meter maids are a little late at
opening the lot this morning. There’s a line of cars already hooking around 45th
and back down Highland. I score free parking and walk down for a look.
Even though it’s dark out, I see that there
are dark blue peaks coming in, scattered along the whole beach. I have no doubt
that this will be a good session.
Cassady parks his truck just as I’m walking
to the sand. He waves, and I wave back. In the lineup, there’s a longboarder
who just popped up on a left. Even though the wave’s barely three feet, the lip
is standing, and the surfer holds a good speedline until the wave closes out.
That surfer is Bri. I’m impressed at her progression. Most novices would end up
going straight with the low-tide speed.
I’m on my Mini Driver. I meant to sample
the Tokoro today, but I didn’t feel like checking the wax job and screwing the
fins on it. I haven’t ridden that board consistently since Indo last year.
The waves are breaking really well, almost
HB style on a small punchy day, when the waves jack up at the sandbar, giving a
fast racy shoulder to play with. The crowd’s not even thick. The parking lot’s
only half full.
I paddle into a right, getting a relaxed
snap on my first maneuver and a small top turn to end it. It’s an excellent way
to start the session.
When Cassady paddles out to Bri and I, he
says that he’s never surfed Porto before.
“It’s actually a decent day,” I say. I try
to point out the different breaks from north to south, but there’s an
infiltration of new faces. Surfers paddle out to the lineup like it’s an allied
invasion in reverse. The current is pulling south, so Bri and Cas drift a
little more towards the bathrooms, while I fight the current not only to maintain
my place but to escape the crowd.
The water’s the coldest it’s been in a
while. My teeth are chattering.
“I’m gonna get one more,” says Bri. “I wish
I had my 5 mil.”
Cas leaves shortly after, and I can’t blame
him. Nyoman, the local Indonesian, catches a left right in front of 45th,
ducking his head for a quick cover up before hooting out loud and kicking out.
There are waves like this breaking this morning, but there aren’t enough for
everyone.
The tide picks up, making the surf a little
inconsistent. I’m frustrated, so I keep busy by moving around, jockeying for
position.
Paddling into the punchy waves, I’ve lost
my form. I’m slipping off of my board on the pop up. I’m too slow getting up,
and the sections already running away. I fade out when I should be pulling in.
Not much I can do but resurface and paddle back out with a straight face.
Two giggling chicks paddle out into the
lineup, which causes a lot of heads to turn. I know one of the guys. His name
is Noey, and he had also surfed the same breaks in Indo that I had. He points
to one of the girls and says, “She just got back from Bali!” He gets her
attention and points to me. “Java.”
The girl turns to me and smiles.
“You must be cold,” I say.
Yet . . . I having traveled to Indo don’t
mean shit. Or . . . what I mean to say is, I feel weird being introduced that
way, like we’re some part of an elite crowd or something. Noey’s going back
there for the whole summer. It’s not like Bali is remote anymore. Saying that
you’ve been there is almost like saying that you’ve been to TJ, just a TJ with
better and more crowded waves. After all, the chick he just introduced me to
had snaked me on a wave earlier, so how much does surf traveling really improve
you as a surfer? The answer is, it doesn’t. The improvement begins within you,
whether it’s progression or etiquette, whether you’re the lone soul surfer
sitting at the Grand Avenue lot or trying to get discovered at Lowers.
I manage one more backhand snap on a walled
right. I should end the session here, but I paddle back out. I’m hoping for the
surf to just magically turn on, but it doesn’t. However, one rogue left sprouts
up on the outside. I paddle out towards the shoulder to ensure that I can catch
it. As I pop up, I see that the shoulder is lining up beautifully towards the
inside, but what do I see? Three Costco-foamie surfers right in my line. One of
them looks at me and freezes. He halts his paddle towards the lineup, gets off
of his board, turns it over, and dives underwater. I have no choice but to
straighten out.
To think that I had just read a Surfer Mag
article about localism. I want to go off on this guy, but I don’t. “Act like
you’ve been there before,” I tell myself. He was in a bad position, a beginner.
He doesn’t know any better.
Robbed of my wave of the day, I go home and
fight the temptation not to jack off. It’s an ongoing battle. . . Oh, and I
almost shit my pants, and I’m in need of a nap. So moral of the story for dawn
patrols: Go to bed early and don’t eat to late.
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