Loc: 26th
Street
Crew: Bri,
Tom Y.
Time:
0700-0930
Conditions:
2-3 FT+, light onshore, consistent, crowded.
My mom’s memorial services were held
yesterday. It was the fourth funeral that I’ve been to for a family member, and
I gotta say that my mom’s service was the most beautiful one that I had ever
been to. Aside from all the emotions and grieving, so many people showed up to
show their love and support for my family. Aunts and uncles flew in. Other
relatives from Vegas drove. My brother’s daughter that I haven’t seen since she
was in diapers. There were a lot of people, and for the first time in years, I
got to see and appreciate just how big my family is.
I wasn’t in the mood for driving the
following day after an emotionally charged Saturday, so Bri and I decided to
just stay local. No rush, no fuss, no muss. We scored free parking as usual and
walked down on 34th Street. The wind was onshore, causing texture
triangles on the water. Not good. We weren’t expecting anything. Just a day to
get wet.
#
We take a gander at 26th Street
once we reach the sand. It’s crowded. There are bodies being lifted as an
onshore peak breaks, creating a fast rippable left. Even further south there
are peaks.
Since I’ve been out of the loop for a bit,
I feel awkward just paddling right into the lineup, so I pick a gap just south
of the tower. Bri hasn’t been out much either, so the current takes her north.
When I reach the lineup, she’s half way to the next tower.
Immediately, I get my first left. I’m on my
Mini Driver, so my late take off is aided by my quad setup, sending me down the
line to the open section. I get a check turn and kick out cleanly before it
closes out. Feels good. More waves like that and I’ll be all right.
A little later, I see Tom out in front of
the brick house. We paddle towards each other and chat it up a bit. I let him
know about the worst that’s been going on. He says he hasn’t paddled out in a
long time.
The current’s strong. A lot of the locals
have drifted all the way by 33rd Street. I fight the current and paddle
just north of the 26th Street Tower where it’s empty. I run into
Orlando and Oscar. They both ask me how I’m doing and express their
condolences.
After catching a left, Gene, who’s a local
vet, one of the 26th Street Ohana, gives me props on the ride. Out
in the lineup, he says that they’re gonna have a paddle out today for their
friend Ed. I totally forgot. I had received the email about his friend’s
passing. Apparently everyone’s friend, but I had never met Ed.
“We’re gonna have a paddle out,” says Gene.
“Jorge there knew Ed since they were little kids, didn’t you Jorge?” He points
to the guy in front of him. He’s not in the mood for talking. I understand. I
just lost my mom. They lost their friend. In Jorge’s case, a childhood friend.
Tom and Bri make their way towards me. On
the sand, all those who had drifted earlier are doing the carousel, walking on
the sand to get back to the main peak. Now everyone’s back here sitting on top
of each other, so I paddle back north towards the brick house again.
My wave of the day is a right. Tom calls me
into it. A local guy on the shoulder says, “Go for it. I only like to go left
any way.”
Instead of attacking the open section, I do
a check turn and go further down the line, waiting to set myself up for a
better bottom turn on the end section. When I do, I get a decent hack to finish
the ride.
Now most of the locals are back on the
sand. There’s a memorial being held at the tower. Someone’s giving a speech.
“Don’t you think we should go over there?”
says Bri. “I kind of feel like shit. We are part of the 26th Street
Ohana.”
I look over. I could go in. We both could.
Catch the tail end of the speech. Show our support. Do the paddle out
afterwards. And then I think about Jorge. He looked sad. He actually knew Ed. I
didn’t. I just don’t feel that I have the right to be there, especially just
having gone through a funeral yesterday. Everyone there was either close to us
or had known my mom. I don’t want to be a face in the crowd that can’t feel the
genuine loss. “I’m sure they’ll understand,” I tell Bri.
Soon after, they all line up on the shore
with their boards and hit the water. All the locals I know, together. I’m
further south, so Tom and Bri are on the south side of the mass while I’m on
the north. After a couple more waves, I see Bri on the beach, watching the
circle that the friends-of-Ed form out by the buoy. Some are still struggling
to make it out. One guy does a side stroke, dragging his board with him. Others
are bitching about the current, getting pulled north. Each time someone passes
me, I feel worse and worse. Should I have joined them on the sand? Should I
just paddle out there now?
Hoots and hollers come from the circle.
Maybe I had made the wrong call and should have shown my respects anyway.
I get out and catch up with Bri and say, “I
was over there waiting for you.”
She gazes out, unreleasing. “I was watching
the paddle out.” She doesn’t look at me.
We walk towards the shower and rinse off.
She says, “Oscar paddled past me. He said,
‘Oh, there you are.’”
I turn back around. The paddle out’s over.
Everyone’s making his way back into the lineup for surf. Suddenly, I feel like
shit. Maybe I was wrong.
The whole drive back home and even later
on, sitting in my apartment, Bri and I barely say a word to each other.
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