A RETURN TO SANTA MONICA, FRI 23MAY2014

Loc: Santa Monica

Time: 0700-0800

Crew: Rick and Manny

Conditions: onshore, inconsistent, 1-3 FT

     When I had first started learning how to surf on a funboard, my training ground was at Bay Street in Santa Monica. At the time, it was the perfect wave. Not big and consistent like Porto, it was a spot where I could actually make it out. Somewhere along the journey of progression, Bay Street began to look small to me. Many dawn patrols there resulted in driving back to the El Porto lot, turning my quarters, that had the intention of serving Santa Monica, into traitors.

     So now Rick has us meeting his brother Manny at Santa Monica, in hopes that the surf here is picking up a little bit of the south-swell angle.

     I always have a little anxiety in surfing new or unfamiliar spots. Porto has its locals, and this place does too. Different cars, different faces. We receive some glares as we pull up in Rick’s van, but as soon as he steps out, one of the guys already there starts talking to him. Another guy, on foot on a dawn patrol, also stops to talk to Rick—old high school buddies. And then I realize just how much Rick truly is a Venice veteran. All over the South Bay, he knows everyone.

     We spot Manny in the crowded lineup. It’s not too crowded, but for the few peaks breaking it is. The light onshore wind puts a sheet of texture on the water. The peaks are long with mooshy shoulders slowly rolling to the shore in spilling whitewash. But some of the surfers shred the little shoulders. Rick leaves to Costa Rica tonight, so small or not, we’re paddling out.

     Once we do, the crowd leaves. Manny says that it was better earlier. The lowering tide isn’t helping. All my rides are closeouts. My Motorboat Too is no match for the mulchy surf. We’re done in an hour.

     Rick suggests some Mexican food for breakfast, so we all meet up at Gilbert’s El Indio on Pico Boulevard. It’s my first time here. I’d equate this place with the Mexican version of an American diner. There are pictures of customers pinned up on the wall. The booths are made of woodgrain. Best of all, the breakfast meals are seven bucks, and that’s with coffee or tea.

     “It’s cash only,” says Manny.

     I sweat, thinking about how I only have my credit card on me.

     “Don’t worry, Matt,” says Manny. “You’re not paying for anything. You just graduated.”

     “Yeah,” says Rick.

     And then they order a round of Bohemia beers . . . at 0830 in the morning. I can’t remember the last time I drank this early.