GROM SEASON, MON 08SEPT2014

Loc: 26^th Street

Time: 0700-0945

Conditions: 2-4 FT, offshore, glassy, consistent, crowded.

     Lesson one that I had failed was on Friday. It was how shitty street parking is. Lesson two that I’ve failed on is how the groms take over my favorite break when school starts again.

     Reaching the sand, from 26^th Street to a tower over, north and south, are nothing but high school kids. Where are the locals? Off by 33^rd I see a few familiar heads. South towards Marine, waves break in the distance. The figures too small to make out.

     On the low-to-mid tide, a longboarder grom paddles into a dredging left. He’s late. He grabs rail as he hits the base of the wave, recovering by holding a midline on the its face. Water throws out over him. He’s not deep, but he gets head and shoulders cover up. Fucker. He’s just gotten barreled.

     His surf coaches applaud him from the beach. Hoots erupt in the lineup. I want one.

     Stubborn, I refuse to paddle out to the north or south end of this crowd, so I find a gap right in front of 26^th. The outcasted groms sit near me. I can tell that they’re outcasts. It doesn’t take a gynecologist. I was in high school once. They’re not part of the popular kids who are loud mouthed and taking all the good waves at the main peak. But what does that make me? I’m it, the only old fucker among them.

     I try to be cordial, ensuring that I’m not snaking any of the kids. If the locals don’t want to mix with them, then maybe I shouldn’t be out here.

     And yet, there are waves. I paddle further out to get away from everyone, but I place myself out of position, scratching out. When I do get good positioning on a left, a bodyboarder grom is on my outside. We’re almost elbow to elbow. I’m a little deep, but I can make it. However, the little shit just keeps going, regardless how I’ve been sitting my ass here for almost thirty minutes waiting for my first legit ride. I pull out. He catches it, a long one.

     Now . . . I’m pissed. I’d like to think of myself as a happy-go-lucky guy, but right now, I could fucking murder someone. I stare him down as he makes his way back out. He doesn’t come near. I really don’t want to be that guy, but really, no fucking respect. I look at the kids all around me. They glance but quickly look away. Angry mustache guy in the lineup. That’s me.

     Thank goodness that 0745 comes around. Time for school. The little fuckers leave. Yes. Lineup all to myself now, or just with a few heads.

     But I’m still in a shitty mood. Now that the tide’s coming up, the groms have gotten the best window. The surf is gonna get worse, but . . . I’m wrong.

     Mid-to-high tide is starting to work. The sun comes out. It’s full-fledged glassy. Waves are still breaking. Not sure if it’s residue from the south swells or windswell, but the surf is actually getting better. Approaching a six-foot high tide, waves are breaking with zero backwash.

     I don’t surf so well this morning, but that’s my fault. Out of nowhere, a four-foot set emerges on the horizon. I paddle out over the first one and get into position for the second. I turn and go, but the bottom sucks out so unexpectedly fast that I have to shove my board away and freefall. Fuck. Could have used my Mini Driver.

     A surfer on the inside, some guy I had talked to earlier, shakes his head and says, “That was the wave of the day.”

     Paddling back out, there’s still another big one coming. All of a sudden, the surf goes round. It’s a dumpster. I’m not proud of my next move, but I have to be honest. I ditch my board and dive underneath the wave. I guess it’s just been a while.

     The set had just about cleaned up the lineup. Everyone paddles back out and waits for the next. After fifteen minutes I turn to the guy next to me and say, “I think that was it!”

     Regardless, there are still waves. Even after 0900 with the tide close to topping out. The waves are softer but still doable. Without enough board, it’s hard to take advantage.

     Shan paddles out. I haven’t seen him in a while. Then I realize that I had last seen him here the day that my mom was found.

     So . . . it was a good day of surf. Unexpected in the South Bay, when it’s not supposed to be working.