FIRST LOCAL SESSION OF THE YEAR, FRI 09JAN2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 28^th Street

Time: 0700-0900

Conditions: 2-3 FT+, light onshore, consistent, swampy

Board: 6’0 Lost Mini Driver, Thruster

     Since parking sucks on Friday, I hit the 26^th Street upper lot early. Gary’s already here, half changed. He reaches in his SUV and pulls out a Styrofoam cooler that’s filled to the brim with cartons of ZICO drinks.

     “Here you go,” he says. “I also hope you don’t mind if I give you some of these.” He has a stack of old beach towels. As they say, A favor for a favor, this dick is what I gave her.

     It means a lot to surf here, especially since it’s the first green rating of the year (from Surfline) and because I have to be at work this weekend. Rick’s at Porto right now, but I figured it’d be too crowded there, and I’m not in the mood for a stress sesh. I’d rather be around familiar faces who won’t burn me.

     Bri’s already on the sand warming up in front of the tower, and she follows me and Gary a couple breaks north when she sees us. Usually it’s not that crowded here, but everyone is sitting on this spot today. Anal Donny wants to tell everyone to shift a little more south towards Marine where it’s less crowded, but I check my control-freak tendencies and just go with the flow.

     The wind’s a little onshore, creating some minute texture. The peaks are scattered, some A-framing and some turning into long walls with tapered shoulders at the end of them.

     So we all paddle into the thick of it, watching the First Shift tear it up. Guys are getting good waves, spraying buckets out the back, but things slow down unexpectedly. It’s that fucking tide. The surf is so tide sensitive with this swell that there’s already some backwash.

     The current’s dragging everyone north, creating some space in the lineup. After some struggling, Bri gets a racy left. Gary gets a closeout, and I pull into one as well.

     There are waves with shoulders, and I take some lefts that at least allow me to pump down the line. Two in a row, the quality starts to improve a bit.

     Gary paddles south to beat the current. Bri and I follow. She takes the next wave and heads to work.

     I expect for Gary to say he’ll catch the next one in, but all of a sudden, bigger sets start to appear. It’s the new swell, and it’s producing its early-morning forerunners. At 0800, the surf changes. The waves are more consistent, the shape better, but it causes everyone to mass at the best take-off spots.

     After pulling a floater on a closeout left, I turn around and witness Gary getting a wrap-around cutback on the wave after mine, but his board seems stuck. Later he says that his trailers were too big.

     Stocky Jon, Don K., Tom Yomo, Collin, Ross, Roy, all the locals are out. It’s fun surfing with these guys, and I only get snaked once buy a Japanese kid with a GoPro, a present he had probably got for Christmas. He has no idea what he’s doing, pumping awkwardly. When he snakes me he apologizes . . . twice. It diffuses the situation immediately.

     My wave of the day is a right. It just pops up out of nowhere, even Gary is out of position because it jacks up late. With the local crew paddling over the shoulder, I set myself up with a deep bottom turn and unleash a backhand power hack. Just feels so damn good. I wind up for a second one, but the wave gets steep on the inside, and I blow the reentry. Nonetheless, I get some props back in the lineup. Again, it’s great surfing with familiar faces, a spot where I have a local card.

     Afterwards, Gary takes off to the office. I wish him well, envious that he’ll be scoring some good surf this weekend while I’ll be on duty. I reach in the Styrofoam cooler and drink some pineapple-mango-coconut juice. Refreshing.