THE MARTYR, MON 27OCT2014

Loc: MB, 26^th Street

Time: 0700-0900

Conditions: 5 FT+, offshore, consistent, fast, round.

     I expect the swell to have backed off, since it’s short-to-mid period. Paying more attention to fins and doing some personal research(thanks to surfscience.com), I switch out the large SA-2 side fins for the slightly smaller Matt Biola GMB composites. I also switch to the smaller Q-R trail fins. With smaller surf, today should be more of a carving session. No need to have too much grip and drive.

     The high schoolers are sitting in front of the 26^th Street tower. One of them is surfing the right. It stands up towards the inside for a fast whitewash ride. I figure I’ll paddle out just north of them in front of the brick house to get a nice gap away from them.

     It should be more crowded this morning, but maybe yesterday’s walls have kept people away. There’s always the high-tide window much later, so it could be empty for any reason.

     There’s this local guy who’s probably in his mid twenties. I don’t know him, but he knows some of the O.G.’s here. We’ve never talked. I see him catch a left, and he pauses and watches the lip fold over in front of him. He tosses his head in frustration and jumps ship. I know the feeling. He’s probably thinking, I should have just pulled in. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve done the same.

     The horizon’s doing its usual 0700 fiery blaze. The water on the inside is a combo of fizzing champaign with smooth unmolested pools of peach, almost as if there were clouds in the water, too.

     A thirty yard gap keeps the kids away, and I’m surprised to have waves to myself here.

     My first wave is a right. As I bottom turn, I look behind me and watch the lip curl over. Fuck. Should have pulled in. Always feels sketchy on my backhand. The next right doesn’t go round, so I set up for one clean power hack before it closes out.

     After sitting out back a little while longer, bigger sets start coming in. The swell’s backed off but only by a hair. I take off on a bomb right and bottom turn to set myself up. The face is jacking up with uncomfortable size. This is where my inexperience shines. My brain’s shooting off signals to bail in self preservation, but I grab rail and stick close to the curling face. I pull in right on the highline, slotting myself just under the lip. There’s marbleized foam in the wave’s face, the pink sky, and groms paddling over the shoulder, sleek as seals. I always doubt that I’ll make it out. I’m too deep. Everything goes black from there, and then I’m sucked under.

     And this is pretty much my barrel experience. I never make it out, just once at Brookhurst/HB over a year ago. Other than that, my middle name is Obliteration. Bali, East Java, Porto, everywhere I’ve surfed. Always almost, close but no cock. “It’ll just happen for you,” was what my brother had told me.

     I’ll tell you that it’s cool, it’s okay, and I want to believe it. There’s training value in rides like these. They’re not all for nothing. Keep telling myself that.

     Sitting back outside, I honestly do feel stoked though. It was close. Mastership through repetition. I’m not hurt, and it was kind of fun.

     From here, I flip the switch. Martyrdom it is, suicide barrels, Allah Akbar. I push my earplugs in tight. No turns. On the next right, I hunker down and wait for it to go round, but it doesn’t. Now that’s also inexperience—reading the wave incorrectly and wasting an open-face maneuver.

     I get a left that’s just as throaty as the right. On my frontside, I’m driving along the soupy face in a tight little cavern, but I get body slammed again.

     The surf is consistent where I’m at. The groms aren’t getting many waves. They paddle towards me to keep position but they don’t paddle through the gap between us. I may not be getting barreled, but the kids are actually giving me room this morning.

     When the session’s over, I’m back at my car unscrewing my fins. Wrong choice. Should’ve kept the same setup as yesterday, but that doesn’t mean that I would have done any better. Put any guy who’s good out today, and he/she would have gotten tubed.

     Listening to some jazz on the radio on the ride back home, I still feel good about today’s session. You don’t always have to make it out to feel fulfilled.