Loc:
Manhattan Beach
Time:
0730-0930
Conditions:
2-3 FT, light onshore, soft.
Board:
5’10 Mini Driver
After being gone during the weekend for
work, I had to hear the stories about how good the surf was on Sunday. While
stuck in uniform, I had to scroll through text messages reading about
everyone’s stoke and seeing pics of the various South Bay breaks. When I got
home Sunday night, I couldn’t wait to paddle out the next morning.
Fast forward to Monday morning. I’m at my
favorite local break looking at weak lines that break close to shore. I drive
to Porto hoping for more size. I watch it for fifteen minutes. Fellow local,
Raymond H., walks up to the shower and starts shaking his head when he sees me.
“Don’t do it,” he says. “Not unless you’re
desperate.”
I hear murmurs throughout the parking lot.
“It’s like night and day compared to yesterday,” says one guy. “The windswell
completely evaporated.”
That night, I continued my Craigslist
search for a new stick. After realizing how much my Motorboat Too is a
specialty board that works best in mooshy beach break or soft point break, and
after feeling how my 6’0 Lost Mini Driver is a little too big for me at 32
Liters, I’ve been looking for New Flyers. Of course, there aren’t any, at least
not under the specs that I’m looking for. There was one listing for a Lost Mini
Driver, a 5’10. With slightly tapered down dimensions from my 6’0, I thought
that this would be a good purchase.
That night, I went to Bay Street Boards in
Santa Monica. They guy who worked their introduced himself as Sontay. He
already had the board laid out for me. Save for a small crack on the tail’s
glassing and a pressure ding on the deck, it was a pretty solid board. $340 out
the door with wax and fins included.
I had already been frothing for surf, so
you can imagine how I was after a board purchase. Tuesday was going to be the
day to get my rip on with my new stick.
#
It’s 0700 when I show up to Manhattan
Beach. Fuckin’ A. The surf still looks soft. South of the 26th
Street Tower, the high school groms are mobbing a left. Their rides are short
and close to shore but clean. I grab my earphones and go for a run on the sand
to wait for the tide to drop.
33rd Street has a clean A-frame,
but it’s still soft. Some longboarders are on it. I make it all the way to 45th
Street and turn around there. Porto doesn’t look much better.
Back at 26th Street, the surf
hasn’t improved by much, but I can’t wait any longer. My fresh purchase is
waxed and ready to get wet. Dead or alive, waves or no waves, I’m paddling out.
Roy shows up. So does Ross. Costco Kim is
out, and so are a bunch of other sniveling jackals who I don’t recognize. I
came to surf, to get some open faces, to see what this board can do.
First thing I notice is the lack of volume
from my 6’0. My 4/3 also feels thicker than usual. Arms sticky, my time out of
the water has me rusty.
I paddle and kick my way into waves, but
upon initiating my turns, the waves bog out. While the in-between waves are too
soft, the sets stretch out along the beach and become racy. No good shape
today. I wonder if I would have been better off with my Zippifish, but who
would want to ride that with a new board in the quiver?
Stubbornly, I catch shit waves for two
hours, hoping for the window to change and for shape to improve. It doesn’t
happen. It’s a no-turn Tuesday.
Yeah. I should’ve been true to the
conditions. I knew the surf looked soft, and I used the wrong surf craft for
today. Anxious, I made the wrong decision. And then I think about Sunday and
the session I missed. It’s not missing the surf that bums me out so much as how
I missed surfing with everyone, all the locals who Bri, myself, and the DRC know.
Seeing the poor conditions the last two days, and how empty the lineup is, it
makes me feel like I showed up to the party late with everyone gone—no chicks,
dicks, or beers left. Should’ve been here earlier. Should’ve been here
yesterday. Sunday was the day.
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