MY ENDLESS SUMMER, PT.10 TUE 05AUG2014

Gary’s Birthday Go Out

Loc: Rosecrans

Crew: Bri, Gary, Juan, Manny, Dave T.

Time: 0600-0800

Conditions: 2-3FT+, consistent, onshore, scattered peaks.

     Bri and I had originally planned to drive to HB this week for surf, but since there’s a light lull in the surf, which is supposed to pick up again tomorrow, I debated on whether we should stay local or not. Upon getting the WHC chain text that Tuesday the fifth will be Gary’s birthday and that they’d be paddling out local, the decision on where to surf was made.

Local Pass:

     Being from the South Bay with El Porto around the corner, it’s good to show your face, here and there, during the summer to ensure you don’t get your Porto Pass revoked.

     I wake up at 0515 to find that there isn’t one text from the WHC yet, but right after brushing my teeth, the phone starts to go off. With gnarly bed head, eating a bowl of frosted mini-wheats, my phone starts to go off in rapid fire. Gary’s already parked and checking the surf. “A little onshore,” he says. Then the rest of the boys chime in. They’re on the way.

     Bri and I are a little behind schedule but not by much. It’s 0545, and it’s already light out. Late by WHC standards. 

     Reaching the sand, the guys are the only ones out in front of the lifeguard station. The conditions are choppy and onshore. Looks small but then some peaks start standing up scattered all over the beach. Classic windswell conditions. Slightly disorganized but rippable.

     We paddle out. I say happy birthday to Gary but ask him for reassurance that it’s actually his birthday. I just had to make sure because it kind of snuck up under my radar.

     I had packed CC’s Zippi, Big Blue, because I thought the conditions would be crappy, but the bigger waves are breaking three feet plus; I could’ve been ripping on the Motorboat Too or Mini Driver.

     Sharing, I let some good peaks go to some of the guys. Surprisingly, the waves pop up out of nowhere, sprouting into wedgy peaks with fast and racy down-the-line shoulders. Despite the onshore wind and chop, the waves hold shape before closing out on the inside.

     The activity in the water is so busy. Everyone’s catching waves. Manny ejects out of a wave with an air. It’s a frenzy of a session with no other surfers invading the spot but us. From the shore, I can only imagine how much we’re selling the subpar conditions.

     I’m in position for one of those wedgy lefts—I picked out as many lefts as possible this session, only going right once. The Zippi has so much volume that it affords me more time even on late pop ups. Once I’m up, I walk to the nose of the board and hold a high line. Towards the inside, I walk it back towards the tail and straighten out to avoid the closeout. The wave is still merely a foot high, but the Zippi’s thick rails keep pushing me through the inside. Wouldn’t be possible on my other boards. Manny even gives me a thumbs up. I guess he can appreciate an attempt at a stylish lean on the nose.

     Another surprise is the consistency. The inside is so consistent that it’s a workout getting back out. On top of that, the waves outside are consistently breaking, so you have to make sure that you don’t get run over.

     Into 0700, the crowd starts to show up. The peak is still ours, but as the minutes pass more people show up. Why is everyone so late? All around Rosecrans, too, not spread out much. Longboarders, a black dude with dreads and a wetsuit hood. A guy in trunks thinks he’s Joel Tudor and loses his leashless longboard, nearly crashing into two guys standing on the inside. I watch as a wave causes his board to flop high into the air, almost hitting someone.

     My wave of the day is another left, but the face on this one is a little more rippable. Instead of walking to the nose, I pump and get a little check turn off of the lip, making the section. I try to get one more turn before the wave closes out, and then I see Manny heading straight towards me on a right. I lose balance on my turn, back flopping, taking a pounding on my kidneys. It reminds me of Gary earlier. He had wiped out on the inside and resurfaced, standing in the shallows clutching at his lower back.

     I didn’t get to see Gary’s 360 attempts that the boys kept hollering about, but he was going for it. On one of his last waves, he was attempting an end section maneuver, and the lip of the wave just crashed into his head as he was trying to complete it. It looked vicious.

     Gary leaves first followed by Dave T.

     “I haven’t caught shit,” says Manny. He looks frustrated, which is funny because I thought I saw him on a lot of waves.

     Manny leaves, so now it’s just Bri and I.

     The tide rises, making the surf more inconsistent and soft. The scattered fast peaks that were here earlier have left with the WHC. The WHC . . . they’re an elite bunch—first ones out, first ones done.

     With waves much softer now, I’m glad that I had taken out the fish. Bri and I let the current take us north towards 40^th Street Tower. In the short distance, Rosecrans is a zoo of surfers. It doesn’t matter. We got our fill. We’re back up the hill by 0815.

     If I’ve learned anything this summer, I’ve learned that despite the expectation of lackluster conditions for the South Bay in the summer, sometimes there are decent winds swells here that Surfline and Magicseaweed can’t always predict. But you have to know when to gamble. It’s easy to get skunked. All I know is that whenever the WHC paddles out together, there are usually waves. That’s the right time to gamble. And the waves today gave Gary a hell of a birthday session, despite how it was supposed to be the shittiest day of surf.