Loc:
El Porto, Rosecrans
Time:
0645-0745
Crew:
Bri
Conditions:
2-4 FT, howling sideshore, walled, consistent.
Board:
Lost Mini Driver
I had planned to surf this morning with
Cassady at Huntington Beach. I predicted that this morning would be fun there
because there’s some decent WNW and a small South in the water, good for some
small combo beach break. But of course, I stayed up way too late playing PS4
last night. Damn you, Call of Duty, Advanced Warfare, why did you have to be so
fun!?
So instead, I’m texting Cassady this
morning, telling him that I’m gonna be surfing local.
Local . . . Bri has to surf Porto because
she has to go to work, and it’s closer to home, so I head to 26th Street,
and the surf looks like shit. It’s small, ripply, and there’s no shape.
I head back to Rosecrans to meet Bri. She’s
already suited up and about to paddle out. The surf looks the same here but
just bigger. “I just have to get out there,” she says, as she walks out to the
sand.
Meh . . . I don’t want to surf, not this. I’ve
been doing this long enough to know that this will be a shitty session, a
waste, but then a little voice in my head starts talking. “Be a man,” it’s
saying. “Surf with your girl.” Aside from the voice, the WHC text thread from
Saturday said that there was a shark sighting at Porto. Also, I saw some
footage on Instagram that shows more sightings along the coast. I get nervous
at the thought of Bri surfing without a battle buddy, so I must suit up.
Surprisingly, the water’s not cold, but the
conditions are uninviting. Guys are already getting swept north by the current.
A chick’s on the inside, trying to surf a Costco foamie, and she’s getting
worked. Her friend lost his foamie. He’s climbing back on shore while the
current’s holding onto his board halfway to the lineup. A guy who had paddled
out in front of me tries to push the board in on an inside wave, but the board
only goes a couple of feet. I wonder if its owner will have the balls to swim
out and get it.
I catch up to Bri, and the whole time, the
waves are just racy and sectiony. No one is catching shit, save for going
straight. A lot of water is moving around, not treacherous from the swell but
from the wind.
When a wave slightly resembling a shoulder
rolls in, I turn and catch it. Pumping down the line, the wave is racing away
from me. I kick out with the wind blowing strong against my board. When I stick
my head out of the water, my board hits me right on the tip of my fucking left
ear. Geezus, it fucking HURTS! I’m holding my ear and grimacing like a bitch. I
look at my hand. No blood. Meanwhile, here comes another cleaner set. I paddle
at halfass strength, not gaining nor losing any ground against the set. I'm
still trying to recover from getting clobbered. Out back is just row upon row
of whitewash. Bri is behind me, but even she catches up and passes me. I turn
around, and I’m near the shore. I laugh in frustration. What shitty surf, all
this work for nothing. No, not nothing, because my fucking ear hurts, and it
wasn’t worth it.
Stubbornly, I paddle back to the top of the
wave. My ear feels better. I’m okay. So long as I’m not cut open.
The waves don’t get better. At this point,
I hate the world. I hate shitty sessions, but I asked for this one. I knew this
would happen, save for the ear thing.
I beat the next cleanup set, but my last wave
is just a closeout. Bri and I ride an inside wave to shore.
Now I’m in a shitty mood. When we get home,
Bri gets ready for work. I start to mellow out and tell her how my board hit my
ear. “Be careful,” I tell her.
“I will,” she says.
I feel behind my ears, and something’s
crusty. I look at my finger, and there are red crystals. “Babe,” I say. “Can
you look behind my ear and tell me if I’m bleeding?” I turn around for her.
“Oh gosh!” she says.
I look at her. Her eyes are wide beneath
her glasses. “Is it bad?” I ask.
“Ummmm. Let me clean it up.” She sits me
down and whips out the Q-tip and alcohol. Afterwards, I look in the mirror. I
got a nice gash where my ear meets my cranium. Also, I check the surf report.
South Huntington is rated Fair-to-Good conditions, barely any wind.
Later, Cassady texts me and says it was
fun. I know . . . I just KNOW he’s not lying.
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