Time: 0630-0815
Crew: Gary, Dave T., Manny A., Juan A.
Conditions: 2-3 FT, howling offshore, swampy, inconsistent.
Board: Motorboat Too
After letting the nick behind my ear heal
for a day, I head out to Porto to meet the Venice Vets, also known as the
Westside Hurley Crew. However, at this point, since a few of their members have
recently been donning gear from solid Quik hookups, I’d rather just refer to
them as the salty vets that they are.
Gary had said that Porto was fun yesterday,
so I missed out. Not only had I made the bad call for staying local yesterday, and
not only was my ear kind of fucked up from getting dinged from my board, but I
also missed out on a decent surf session. Dead or alive, I’m surfing today.
I score at my secret garden parking spot
and head down to Porto. Immediately in front of 42nd Street, I lock
in on a stocky guy on a nice left. He’s crouched low, barrel chested, with his
arms hanging down like an ape. On a soft three-foot wave, he’s doing wrapping
cutbacks and getting back down the line. It’s Gary. He’s Grape Ape.
As I paddle out, I spot Manny and Dave T.
in the water, too. Surprisingly, the lineup’s not as typically crowded as it usually
is. Maybe the glum forecast and the recent rain has people opting for Pillow
Point this morning.
I’m beyond eager. I’m frothing, in need of
a major redemption session. I can’t even remember the last good session that I
had.
My Motorboat feels good under my torso, and
it’s floating me well, but the waves are just a bit too soft.
“It was bigger yesterday,” says Gary.
Meanwhile, Juan A. enters the lineup.
There are some bigger rogue waves that
catch most of us by surprise. With only two lackluster waves under my belt, a
perfect right swings my way. I’m deep for it, but Juan is right on the
shoulder. No need to even holler for him to go, because he’s on it. From
behind, I can tell that the wave’s holding shape, and then a huge bucket of
water gets thrown out the back. All the guys see it. Two more all the way to
shore. Easily, it’s the best wave of the morning, and he’s put his homies in
combo land.
And for the rest of the session, I can’t
get a decent wave. It’s not just me, it’s the conditions. Some guy is on a fun
looking hybrid board, and he’s catching everything. No leash even. I regret not
having my Zippifish with me.
One by one, the guys start to leave for
work. Even though the tide’s getting lower, the surf is turning wonky, so I
call it, too. At least surfing Porto this morning wasn’t like pulling my teeth
with the crowd. It was mellow. And as my DRC surf homies have left, are
workaholics, or just don’t surf anymore, I’m grateful that I can be a wildcard
addition to their crew.
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