Time: 0630-0830
Crew: Rick & his friend from work, and Bri
Conditions: 2 FT+, offshore, swampy, inconsistent.
Board: Zippifish
Rick had called me yesterday, telling me
that he’d be surfing Porto with one of his coworkers this morning. After hinting
to him that I wanted to surf at my preferred local surf spot, he still kept
asking me to join him. I even told Bri, “I’m surfing 26th. No way I’m
doing Porto. It’s gonna be crowded tomorrow. I just know it.”
Yet, when Rick called me last night, he
persisted once more, and I gave in. Awww what the hell. He’s the closest thing
that I’ve ever had to a dad, and it’s just so hard to tell him now.
Bri and I arrive to a desolate parking lot
and park right next to Rick. His buddy is Rolando, his coworker from Georgia
who’s assigned to work at his job for two weeks. Rolando says that he surfs, too.
We all look out at the water. The forecast was a little too generous for today.
It’s soft serve out there, even smaller than yesterday, but at least I got the
right board.
Rick starts his attack at 45th as
usual. Even though the crowd is thin this morning, the inconsistency is an
issue, causing everyone to congregate at the same takeoff spot, waiting for
glory. But I’ll give it to Rick. He’s on a mission. Seems like he thrives when
his friends aren’t having fun, like he’s doing his best to milk every wave as
if he were saying, “Look! See! There are waves out here to catch. You can catch
some, too!” That, and combined with his eternal stoke for surf. Sometimes I
take it for granted how well he surfs for being in his fifties. Is that even
normal? I mean, he used to ride fishes, and as he’s gotten older, he’s shifted
to more performance boards.
The Zippi isn’t giving me the best
advantage. The surf is just that weak this morning, but I do get some single
shots. A snap here, a forehand cutty on a wave that bogs out, nothing serious.
Bri catches a few waves on the Becker and
heads to work. Rolando is just sitting in the crowd. The waves he catches are
small and racy. He’s trying while not smiling.
Rick says, “Rolando said this is the best
surf he’s had since October. This is a good day where he’s from.”
Yeah, I’m not too sure how this could be stokeworthy at all.
Regardless, this is probably the place with the most size in the South Bay.
We end the morning at Blue Butterly. I join
them for breakfast, buying just a small coffee for myself since I have food in
the fridge. Rolando’s looking at his phone. He’s tense. These guys need to get
back to work. Rick’s stalling as always, wishing he had the day off, and I don’t
blame him for that. Who wouldn’t rather spend the day at the beach?
Rick’s salmon bagel sandwich is brought to
our table. He grabs half of it and says, “Go ahead, Matt. Eat.”
“It’s cool, Rick,” I say. “I got food at
home.”
“Just go for it, Matt. It’s too much for
me. I can’t eat it.”
I sigh and say, “Okay.” I bite into it. It’s
really good.
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