TO FISH OR NOT TO FISH?, MON 13OCT2014

Loc: PV

Crew: Bri

Time: 0730-0930

Conditions: 4 FT+, consistent, glassy, warm.

     From the top of the cliff, the waves look small. I should have known. While Manhattan Beach is a great wall of closeouts, this place is tiny. Fuckin’ A. Though it’s a pristine morning, the sun still below the hills. Soft smooth lines creep into The Cove. I grab the fish. Might as well paddle out.

     Bri and I stash our sandals and make our way to the jagged paddle out. The main pack’s out there at the top of the wave. The air is cool under the cliff’s shadow, but as soon as I hit the water, I feel that it’s warm. Wetsuit jacket and shorts, it’s the right call.

     The inside is always soupy. Nothing breaks here. Halfway towards the lineup, I get a glimpse of a set breaking. It’s a little bigger than I thought. I look to my right, landmarking where I am. I’m just past Little Reef. There’s still a ways to go.

     Duckdiving, the fish feels huge and overbouyant. Outside, a huge wall stands up. I know I’m in the impact zone. Motherfucker. I have the WRONG BOARD.

     The primary swell is supposed to be backing off, but it’s still working. There must be a lot of west in it. Bri and I sit wide of the main pack more towards the center of the cove. It’s less consistent than the top of the wave, but when the cleanup sets roll in, we have the shoulders.

     I get my first left, and it’s a solid five feet. Solid, but clean and racy, a fast peeling shoulder that’s down the line and tapered. I pop up on my huge fish with ease—the fish that’s great when it’s small—and I find that I have way too much board. Like an abused dog with the gate open, the Zippi just fucking TAKES OFF. Holy shit. So much speed on this twin fin. I’m flying down the line. I try to top turn and nearly face plant. I pump further down the line and bring it back for a wrap. I pull off the cutback but do so awkwardly.

     And that’s how the whole morning goes. Perfect waves but too much board. I have to be conservative on the turns. Can’t be too aggressive or I’ll lose it. It’s not a depression session by any means. I’d rather surf conditions like this than a day that’s too small. The Zippi excels in other areas. When I’m behind a section, I climb the face and pull off floaters, touching the cloud and dropping back in with grace. Still, I imagine how much fun I would be having if I had brought a shortboard, the Becker, maybe even the Motorboat Too.

     Bri leaves for work, taking the waves with her. The surf turns a little inconsistent. I sneak up towards the main pack and find it hard to compete.

     I still got more than my fair share of waves. Driving home, I have Jazz music on blast with the windows down, cruising through Hermosa on the way back to El Segundo. If someone asked me what serenity means to me, it would be this.