WHEN THE WORD IS OUT, WED 18MAR2015

Loc: El Porto, 42^nd Street                            

Time: 1100-1230

Crew: Dais

Conditions: 2-4 FT, onshore, peaky, crowded.   

Board: Lost Mini Driver

     When the word is out, it doesn’t matter that I’m meeting Dais in the middle of the week at an hour when people should be at work. Walking down 45^th, surfers are stretched along the whole lineup all the way to 42^nd, and I can see why. There are decent peaks coming in. I won’t say it’s a “good” day of surf, just average. The wind is still a little onshore, some of the sets are walled, but average in the South Bay can be fun, too, so long as you catch the right wave.

     Dais catches a right on the inside. I paddle up to him. “Looks fun!” he says. Indeed he’s right. Three surfer chicks sit in the lineup. Bet they think it’s fun, too. So does the lady in the pink Body Glove wetsuit, the guy on the blue longboard, and just about the other twenty people sitting here. Fuck. They know. People have been spreading the word.

     A long A-frame rolls in. I’m on the left. The wave folds at the peak like an envelope, a little too fast and racy. Once again, it’s about being on the shoulder. I’m in better position for the next one, but the shoulder turns to moosh. Just a little less tide, and I should be here to surf it when the window changes.

     The crowd gets to me, so I paddle further south towards Rosecrans. No one’s here for a reason. I watch the vultrous surfers compete over 42^nd Street peaks. One right. I get one backhand snap here and paddle back north.

     Dais leaves. Too much competition here. I paddle towards 45^th and holy shit, it’s just as packed. Like a shotgun blast mixed with noobs and rippers, all scattered around one peak. Crowded at noon? Yeah, the word is out.

     I paddle to the top of the wave and miraculously snag a right. It’s still a little soft, but I’m in good position, so I get two snaps and kick out.

     Paddling through the lineup, I start to feel uneasy. No love here. No crew, no buddies, no hooting each other on rides. Right now this spot is like the area in prison where all the stragglers who don’t belong to a gang hang out, every man for himself. I’m over it but still want more waves.

     The wind picks up, and the overcast gets thicker. The ocean goes from lightly textured to choppy. I’m done.

     Changing at my car, I feel exhausted. I’ve been surfing consistently since my session last Friday at Trestles. Having surfed twice yesterday, I think that will be it for me for the day. I’ll probably skip the gym, too. All I know is that if it was this crowded today, I can’t imagine what tomorrow will bring. I’ve hovered over here to Porto in the last couple weeks, so I think it’s time to return to my favorite local break where faces are more familiar. Even though the word is out, I’ll feel much better surfing there.