Time: 0945-1200
Conditions: 2-3 FT, inconsistent, swampy.
Board: Motorboat Too
I’m gonna be at work tomorrow all the way
through Sunday, leaving me with today being my last chance for a decent
session. With a pulse from the south steadily rising, today is supposed to be a
good day of surf.
Unlike yesterday, I choose my window
wisely, not dawn patrolling and going too early. Gotta wait for the tide to at
least top out. By 0900, the morning already seems to be passing me by. I can’t
wait any longer, so I head out the door by 0930.
Looking down the 45th Street
hill, I see lines coming in, but none of them have broken. A few surfers paddle
into my sights and disappear into the peripheries. Regardless, I have a good
feeling about today. It’s a hot beautiful spring day. The water’s glassy and
inviting. Anything seems possible.
I trot down the hill with my Motorboat Too
in hand because the surf is gonna change. That window’s gonna open, the tide’s
gonna go down, and I’m gonna have some fun shortboardable rippable three-foot
peaks to ride. That’s all I want. At least three feet. That’s it.
When I reach the sand, a soft set rolls in,
breaking in the main take off spots at 45th and in front of the
tanks, but they moosh out and reform into shorepound. Looks promising though.
There is some kind of pulse out there.
Paddling out, the water’s deep on the
inside. I turn and go on an inside wave, and it mooshes out the second I pop
up.
I patrol the lineup, patiently, waiting for
surf conditions to improve. A few set waves pop up, but the bigger they are the
shittier their shape, and I can only go straight or pump away on their racy
sections.
Into my first hour, I still haven’t gotten
one fucking turn. A few good waves do come in, legit three-foot plus with
corners. A chick who looks like Malia Manuel gets one of them, cranking off a
backhand snap at the end of it.
“That’s the best wave I’ve seen all
morning,” I say to her.
“Yeah,” she says, “like every fifteen
minutes!”
But it’s not fifteen minutes. It takes
longer than that. Guys are just as desperate as I am, sitting on top of each
other for prime position. I get one of the bigger ones of the morning, but it
races away too fast. It had actually curled a little. Maybe I should have just
pulled in? I don’t know.
Meanwhile, a second gem rolls through,
another rare down-the-line left. Malia Manuel lookalike is on it again. I
paddle over the shoulder as she glides right past me. I want a wave just like
it, but it never comes.
I surf until noon, forcing the whole
session, waiting to meet my quota, but it never happens. Looking at the ocean
while walking backwards, the surf actually looks like it’s getting better. Or
is it? Sometimes it always looks better when you’re leaving, but I had just
wasted the whole morning and didn’t catch shit. It’s a shitty way to part with
the ocean before seeing it again next week.
#
OLD RELIABLE, THU 05MAR2015
Loc:
El Porto, 45th Street
Time:
1400-1545
Crew:
Bri
Conditions:
2-3 FT, offshore, inconsistent, low tide.
Board:
Zippi
I’m unloading my gear back home when Bri
just gets back from work. We’re supposed to go to the gym, but she says she’s
feeling lazy. “We could go to the beach,” I say. “It’s small, but it’s surfable
on a big board.” After scarfing down a vegetable smoothie, some cookies, and
water, we’re heading back to El Porto with my wagon loaded up.
The onshore wind’s barely coming up, so the
conditions are still nice. On the lower tide, the peaks are standing up a
little bit more and coming in more consistent. The sun is blinding and lower on
the horizon. I rarely surf at this hour, but I really need to redeem myself for
the last two sessions. With my Zippifish, I’m hoping that I’ll finally have an
advantage with the small surf.
I don’t know if it’s because Bri is out
here, because I have the right board, or because the surf’s actually improved,
but I immediately wrack up a wavecount higher than the last two sessions
combined. The surf is different when you have the right equipment. Lackluster
waves on my Motorboat Too are now open-face rippable on the Zippi. Back to
back, Bri and I are trading off on waves. Only a few longboarders actually know
what they’re doing out here, but besides them we’re owning the “beginner hour.”
I’m getting legit cutbacks on the lefts,
even getting three backhand snaps on a right. From the inside, I watch Bri
going left on her backhand. She bottom turns, climbs the face, and does a check
turn high up on the pocket, stalling her 6’8 NSP to stay where the power is. It’s
the best turn/maneuver I’ve ever seen her do.
We have to leave a little after an hour
because Bri has to go to work, but I leave feeling satisfied, a feeling that I
haven’t had in a while. It kind of puts everything in perspective. Maybe I didn’t
even need to wait for those windows, dawn patrolling in HB early and coming
here to Porto with my shortboard. Equipment was key this session, and the
Zippifish made the whole difference. I’m never gonna discount this board again.
I can still dawn patrol. I can still surf. All along, I just needed the right
board. Surf has been right here all along.
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