OTHER BREAKS, FRI 18APR2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0630-0900

Crew: Klaude

Conditions: 2-3FT, offshore, consistent, overcast.

     There are other breaks besides Porto, scattered all over MB. Even Grand Ave. is working a little bit after that last storm had plowed some new sandbars there. The other breaks might be a little smaller, but they are mellower. When I need to detox from Porto, I have my other break that I go to.

     It’s 0630, clean three-foot peaks are rolling in nicely despite the low tide. Only Don Kadowaki and two other guys are on it. It’s surprising how no one wants to rush the early window. Don’t they know that low tide is good right now?

     Paddling out, I duckdive rippable waves until I make it to the lineup and get some of my own.

     Because of the tide, the waves are standing up more, almost HB style but not enough size to be consistently hollow. But it’s the punchiness I appreciate, going backhand with a steep wall behind me. I get solid snaps off of the lip.

     Yesterday I had caught mostly lefts, but today the rights are working.

     I try to pull in and get barreled on the walls, just for fun. Even though I don’t make it out, it’s nice just to get a glimpse of the curling tube before obliteration.

     We have the waves to ourselves until 0800. Klaude shows up, but so does everyone else.

     A longboarder is killing it. Everywhere I sit, he seems to be at. I paddle north to escape the crowd, and I get another glimpse of this guy going right.

     At the approach of the next rogue wave, he paddles past me to reach the peak first.

     “Again?” I say, as I’m paddling for the wave on the shoulder, on the shoulder because I had just gotten backpaddled.

     He doesn’t give up his paddle.

     “Again!” I say much louder.

     “Yeah,” he says. He pops up, getting a little cover up.

     Again . . . again. I’ve wrote this a million times, and I’ll write it again. Just because you can take every wave doesn’t mean that you should. To catch a wave all the way to the inside, paddle back out again, sit out in front of everyone again, and catch another one back to back, it’s just fucking greedy. SHARE. I always share. I pass up on waves after I’ve just caught one. “Go,” I’ll say. No problem because I just got one. Everyone needs to catch something, but something’s gone down the drain as far as the etiquette tube goes.

     He paddles back out and smiles at me. I stare back at him, unsmiling, and then yesterday’s fight at El Porto comes to mind, so I paddle past him, into the pack, and let it go. 

PARKING LOT PUNCH OUT, THU 17APR2014

Loc: El Porto

Time: 0630-0900

Crew: Juan, Manny, Gary, Dave T. (WHC)

Conditions: 2-3FT+, offshore, consistent, overcast, violent.

     I was supposed to go to HB, but I wake up late, late being 0530. I figure if I stay local I’ll catch the best window of surf, since the low tide is early. Plus, last night the Westside Hurley Crew had given me the heads up that most of them would be surfing Porto, so I didn’t want to miss out on an expression session.

     No free parking today, but I’m hella early, so I put an hour’s worth in the meter—good until 0900. And you’d think that Porto would be packed, but it’s not. With first light much earlier—now that the days are longer—most people are still on the 0700 paddle-out mindset, but really, you can surf as early as 0600 if you want to push it.

     While the rest of the guys surf in front of the bathrooms, I paddle out just north of 45^th.

     The surf has been getting better, and today is a testament to it. With the overcast sky and glassy ocean, the water is a gray mirror image of the clouds above. Seeing the waves are hard, but once they stand up and cast their bending shadows over their curling faces, you can see that the waves are standing up.

     It’s not “big,” but it’s punchy and rippable. With only a few guys around me, I catch back-to-back rights, never connecting more than two turns, but the single snaps I get are enough to fuel my stoke.

     I paddle closer to the boys who sit at 42^nd, but it’s too crowded here and inconsistent. I turn around towards the tanks. Another right rolls in. I paddle back.

     The crowd is thin until about 0800, but even with the new faces and the tide rising, we’re all still scoring. My wave of the day is an outside left that everyone calls me on. The first section is steep, so I climb the face and do a cut back before the wave mooshes out on the inside. I receive thumbs-up when I look out the back again.

     Jack, also one of the homies, shows up. He paddles up to me and says, “There was a fight on the sand. Two guys were just swinging at each other. One of the guy’s friends had to save him.”

     Afterwards in the lot, I check my phone. I have text messages from Gary, explaining what had happened in the lot when he was leaving—round two. Apparently there was a fight between a local guy who surfs the bathrooms a lot and another regular, all due to “snaking.”

     Later, I saw the video posted on Facebook, a part 1 and a part 2. I know the guy who got beaten up, but I won’t mention his name. Let’s just call him Red wetsuit. Red is pretty much a local-local, like he’s legit. He’s been surfing Porto for quite some time.

     THIS IS WHAT I HEARD: The other guy, Black wetsuit, surfs there too, but doesn’t quite fall into the El Porto elite hierarchy (neither do I, so I’m not talking shit here). Red has been snaking Black for some time, so Black is “over it” and snakes Red to give him a taste of his own medicine, and . . . this is the result.

     I’d like to write something insightful, but I really don’t know what else to put. I’ve been there, snaked. Hell, guys have looked back at me while they’re snaking me and kept going down the line, especially at Porto. So when I surf there, I expect other surfers to have shitty etiquette. It just comes with the territory. With low expectations, I don’t expect much from people, so when I’m snaked, I’m not surprised, sadly.

     We’re supposed to be adults and talk it out, but there’s something different about the energy in the lineup and surfing in general. Egos blow up tenfold. Pride (I can’t let that guy punk me). And next thing you know, it’s like high school again. There’s a fight on the quad. Everyone who wasn’t there hears about what had happened.

     In my last blogs I had said that tensions have been rising at El Porto. Something extremely negative in the air. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.  

A GLIMPSE, WED 16APR2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0645-1030

Conditions: 2-3FT, offshore, consistent, overcast, crowded.

     From the top of the hill, the surf looks the best that I’ve seen in a while. Not epic, but decent. There are scattered peaks. Lines are coming in around three feet, a little lined but there are shoulders.

     I grab my Tokoro shortboard, expecting it to be the perfect board for some punchy surf. 

     Groms . . . everywhere. Every peak that looks good, they’re on it. Owning it. Sealing it off. You’d think I’d be mad, but I’m not. I’d rather be surrounded by stoked groms than the nonetiquette and aggro muldoons at Porto.

     But as soon as I paddle out, the tide’s already affecting the surf. The waves aren’t as punchy as they had seemed like when I parked, so now I have to trek back up the hill to grab my small-wave board.

#

     I feel much more comfortable with this short thick board under me. The volume makes a huge difference. Paddling into a small right, the single to double concave gives me lift as I get into the wave. Huge difference. Flat rocker. I’m flying down the line and crack out a solid backhand snap. Not bad for a small wave.

     Paddling back out, a redhead kid looks past me and says, “Sick wave!”

     I turn around. No one’s there. “Me?” I say.

     “Yeah,” he says. “That was sick.”

     Suddenly, my demeanor towards kids improves so much more. Not that it was bad before, but now I’m like, yeah, sit in my spot any time!

     My next wave is my first left. Upon popping up, I pump too hard, not only falling backwards but losing the wave entirely by going too high. I blew it.

     Paddling back out, the same kid looks at me with eyes wide. “That was sick!” he says.

#

     I feel sluggish going left, but going backhand on my right, my turns are nice and snappy. I even get my first full wraparound cutback on a small left. It’s ugly, but it’s legit. For the first time, I feel how the minimum tail rocker affects my turns. It’s a little harder, like I can dig my rail if I’m not conscious about working that tail right. I get hung up a little, but it’s just something I have to get used to.

     Shan and Dais paddle out too. I leave at about 1030 once the wind turns onshore. It’s a decent session. I get a fistful of single-turn waves despite the groms and incoming tide. It’s the first glimpse of goof surf that I’ve had in a while. 

THE QUOTA, FRI 11APR2014

Loc: EL PORTO, 45^th Street

Time: 1500-1700

Conditions: 1-3FT, high tide, inconsistent, swampy, sunny, onshore.

     All that matters is the quota. In the midst of junky onshore slop, all I want is to meet the quota: one good wave, one good turn. That’s it.

     The surf is crumbly and onshore, but there is surprisingly a little shape. There isn’t much of a crowd yet. The main pack hangs back at 42^nd while I paddle against the current and maintain at 45^th.

     I have the right board for small waves. All I need is at least two feet with some kind of shoulder, so long as it’s not too mooshy.

     I catch a handful of onshore crumblers, often bogging out upon cutting back, but I can at least get distance towards the inside.

     Into my second hour of surfing, the tide’s come up, and more people are paddling out for a post-work session. There’s a rippable little reform section on the inside.

     My wave of the day is a tiny wave, and on that inside section, on my frontside, I pull off a carving maneuver, whipping my tail down to the base of the wave and into the oncoming section. The carve feels fluid and smooth over a foot of water.

     Back up the hill, changing back into my clothes, I can’t help but feel short changed. My quota was reached, but I’m getting tired of these kinds of sessions. I know I’m whining, and I should be grateful for what the local surf gives me, but a surfer can only go so long before he has a GOOD session, and I’m due up.