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| Enter the Fog |
Loc:
El Porto, 42nd Street
Time:
0700-0900
Conditions:
3 FT+, foggy, mooshy, racy
Board:
Lost Mini Driver
Long story short, I can’t see shit. I’m at
Porto because there’s a high school contest at 26th Street. I can
only wonder how they’re running a contest with zero visibility.
The Porto lot is only a quarter full,
surprise, surprise. Makes sense because the fog is so dense that I can barely
see the shore. Walking up to the water line, a few other surfers approach and
begin their warmups.
The inside is swampy with small
mooshburgers. When I make it to what seems like the lineup, I turn around and
have no idea where I am. If there’s a current, I’m gonna be pulled down the
beach somewhere.
The waves are of shit quality, fat and
racy. I do catch a left right away, pump to make it past a couple of sections,
and get a weak frontside turn.
Little by little, the lineup gets more
crowded. Guys are in the water, asking each other if they know where they are.
Now every wave is either too racy or a
fucking wall. Once the fog burns off a little, I see that the fucking place is
PACKED for as far as the fog will let me see. I mean, black wetsuits littering
the lineup as far as Rosecrans. I now see that I’ve drifted towards 42nd.
Not
Lowers. Po-Wers:
Meanwhile, 45th is working like
a fucking machine. It’s pretty impressive. Just south of it at 42nd,
it’s just walls, but 45th is A-framing. Even with the high tide, it’s
producing soft rippable peaks.
Too crowded for me of course, so I suffer.
Stubbornly, I stick to 42nd, waiting for the “good one” to come.
When they do, I’m out positioned each time. Just too many people. Twice, I have
to back out on decent lefts.
Quota unmet, I walk out of the water in
frustration, pausing on the sand to watch guys rip 45th. I mean,
they are killing it. Cutback after cutback all the way to shore. I’m jealous,
wishing I could’ve caught some waves like those. 45th is breaking
better than any other spot at Porto, and it’s the most packed. Reminds me of
another spot I know about.

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