THE PIER, WED 29OCT2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach Pier

Time: 0745-0900

Conditions: 2 FT, offshore, small, inconsistent.

     I had told fellow surf blogger, Goofy Kook, that I’d make an effort to check him out by the pier. Makes sense after yesterday’s orgy at 26^th Street. Plus, the surf has dramatically dropped in size. In the past, I wouldn’t have even paddled out on a day like this, but I have decent small-wave equipment. This morning, it’s my checkerboard Kainalu fish.

     Scoring parking near Highland and Marine, I head down to the sand and draw a beeline for the pier. With a later start this morning, the sky’s already bright, and the sand’s a blazing beige.

     There are heads at 26^th Street. Surprisingly, the breaks between there and the pier are desolate. There are a few longboarders and one SUP guy.

     At the pier, there’s a longboarder sitting deep next to the pilings, two beginners just wide of him.

     The last time I had surfed the pier was my first lesson with Rick A. He took me here. I remember how the water was so green, and I was so “green” that I couldn’t even sit on my fucking board. That was all of lesson one, just sitting on the damn thing.

     I paddle out and look around. No surf signs in the parking lot. I don’t see GK.

     The longboarder sitting on the pier catches a long right, so I swoop in to see if I can get one, too. Even though it’s flat, I’m in awe as I paddle up to this structure. The shift in the tide makes the pier look like it’s moving backwards; I catch a short moment of vertigo. I sit and wait, but nothing breaks here. After ten minutes, I paddle more north.

     There’s a guy on the inside teaching a chick how to surf on a Costco foamie. As a wave approaches, he pushes her outside so she can get out of the impact zone.

     “I don’t think—” she says, before the wave breaks on her, churning her back up in a tangled mess of hair. Soon afterwards, they’re walking back on shore, boards in tow.

     A different longboarder catches a rogue wave. He bends his back knee hard on the bottom turn while throwing his limps up as if he were clutching ape-hanger handle bars. He snaps his board into the line he wants to draw, and when he does it, he really uses his hips and shoulders, never losing balance or being awkward. Style. I appreciate good surfing on any craft. Looking smooth and good in the transitions isn’t easy.

     My wave of the day is a left. I catch one of the tiny bombs, pump down the line, get a small floater, and end it with a layback turn. I don’t right out of it smoothly, but I hop towards the nose to force my board into the rolling whitewash for a legit finish.

     The smooth-styling longboarder’s on the inside, holding his board, making sure we don’t hit each other. I smile and put my palm out. He smiles back, jumps on his board, and goes out again.