Loc:
Manhattan Beach, 26th Street
Time:
0700-0745
Conditions:
1-2 Occasional 3 FT, crowded, soft.
Board:
Motorboat Too
After yesterday’s surf fest at Churches, I
knew that I had to lower my expectations surfing Manhattan Beach. As soon as I
parked, I saw weak lines rolling in to shore. I mean, glassy weak. The lips
were just wavering in the morning light, complexion grey. Could get better, I
thought. The report had called for occasional four footers . . . but I knew I
was fooling myself. Yet, my crew, the DRC holds itself to a high standard.
Klaude had said he’d be surfing this morning and that he’d be out.
One good thing about being there was that I
got to see all the local guys I haven’t surfed with in a while. One by one, as
we spotted them in the lineup, we caught up. Orlando invited me and Bri to his
camp out late this month. Stocky Jon had shaved his mustache and goatee. And
Roy was looking scruffy and dark and bloodshot as usual.
I popped up on my first wave and got two
pumps before cutting back. Immediately, the wave bogged out. Second wave bogged
out even faster. After that, I couldn’t catch anything. A few longboarders were
able to glide through the moosh, but even they were having a hard time.
At 0730, I told Bri that we’d be leaving if
we didn’t catch anything. Sure as shit, we ended up doing the paddle of shame.
Back on shore, I checked my phone and saw
that Klaude had just got up. Usually, we’d give each other shit for missing the
session, but I told him that he didn’t miss out on anything.
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