SHOWING UP, WED 04FEB2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0700-0900        

Conditions: 4-5 FT, crowded enough, semi walled

Board: Lost Mini Driver

     After not having surfed my local break for about five days, it’s time for me to make an appearance to maintain my “local pass.” Of course, the high schoolers are out in full force, taking up the main peak. The other surfers, who don’t want to deal with the groms, have paddled out slightly north in front of the brick house. When I get to the shore, I opt to paddle out south of the tower, towards Marine, into no-man’s land, since it looks walled and inconsistent there.

     Even though I had seen some lefts breaking here earlier, mostly rights are coming through. The sets are walled and a little dumpy, at the limit of my comfort threshold. Even though I get pounded in the impact zone a couple of times, I manage to hold onto my board, no matter how jostled I get beneath the surface.

 

Etiquette:

     This skinny older guy in a blue wetsuit is sitting outside. He paddles for a right. I paddle for it, too, as I watch him going for it. He drops in, so I pull out. Three strokes later, I look back to see that he had kicked out. Okay, no problem, I’m thinking. The second wave of the set is approaching, and of course, we are both paddling outside for it. What does Skinny Blue do? He paddles towards my inside and goes for this wave. I pull out again, saying, “Fuckin’ Greedy!” as he blows by me. Fuck. I can’t tell you how annoying this is. Reader, I’m sure you’ve been there before.

     The third wave of the set is a little smaller, but I catch it. It lines up nicely all the way to shore and peels with an open face. With aggression, I let out all my frustrations on my backhand snaps. Since I got the quads on, I get that extra grip at the top of the turn, getting that solid power arc and pausing at the accentuation mark, Michele Bourez style. Three turns. I’m not so mad anymore.

 

Luck:

     I get corralled in by two shortboarders and a longboarder, some guy who’s decided to wear trunks today. Either he’s hardcore or an idiot. Either way, his balls are bigger than mine if he can handle this cold water without a wetsuit.

     Since these guys have taken over my spot, I paddle north to get away from them back to no-man’s land. Just then, a right pops up, and Boardshorts is in perfect position for it on the shoulder. I dart for the shoulder as fast as I can and end up taking off a little behind the peak. It’s a critical late drop, but I make it, and get three turns.

     Now I’m sitting south of those three guys, having just caught the right, and, fuckin’ A, a left pops up right in front of me. Fuck it. With one of the shortboarders looking right at me from the shoulder, I pop up at the peak again and take the left. Dang, I guess I’m the one who’s being greedy.

 

Fuckin’ Stocky John. . .:

     So I see Stocky John in the lineup. I haven’t seen him all morning. I ask him how the surf was yesterday. He said that it was fun and a little bit smaller. Fuck. I had skipped the last two days because of the fat morning tide, expecting it to be too swampy.

     We both paddle north, and a heaving right comes rolling in. I mean, wave of the day status, big and open-face rippable. I’m going for it. So is Stocky John, but he’s way too fucking deep. I’m just about to drop in, and we both have eye contact, staring at each other with eyes wide. He pops up. Just as I pull out, I see him get obliterated by the lip on the bottom turn.

     You see, I’m anal about etiquette. In this case, maybe a little too nice. I hate getting burned by people, so if anyone is on my inside going for a wave, I just pull out. I try to avoid, at all costs, ruining the section for someone or getting in someone’s way. However, since me and Stocky John know each other, I expect that we’d have the proper etiquette for each other, like, “Dude, I’m too deep. GO!” But he had gone anyway, knowing that he was way too far behind and that I was in a better spot.

     I don’t want to give him a hard time about it, but I do want to say something, at least a, “What happened?” Am I being a dick?

     Waiting for him, I look back at the shore, and see that he’s leaving, after having been out for barely a half hour.

#

     Back at the car, I give Klaude a Vox, letting him know what the conditions are like. I haven’t surfed with him in a while. It’s tax season, so he’s been really busy. I also haven’t surfed with my other DRC homies in a while. Dais, Khang moved to the East Coast, and Cheryl doesn’t even surf anymore. I know one day life is gonna get busy for me, and I won’t be able to be a surf bum anymore, but until then, I’m glad that I can show up at my local spot as much as I can.