Loc:
El Porto, 45th
Crew:
Manny A.
Time:
0945-1115
Conditions:
2-4 FT, consistent, glassy, fast, overcast
Board:
5’10 Mini Driver, Quad Setup
Yesterday the cams looked like shit. With
low-tide mornings, the surf hasn’t fared much lately, and it also rained hard
last night, so who the hell would be paddling out today? Of course, I get the
text from Mr. First Light himself, Gary C. AKA Balls Deep AKA Grape Ape, that
the surf looks fun. He sends a pic of a right breaking just in front of the
rocks at 45th Street. I’m still groggy, lying on my futon, stuck in
bed from last night’s residue. He might be right. Pulling up the cam on my
Surfline app, I see that consistent groomed waves are rolling into Porto, but
the tide still looks too low, too fast. I put my head down and go back to sleep.
About an hour and a half later I get
another text from Gary. “Off the hook,” he says. “Not big but fun, glassy, and
barely anyone out.”
Well fuck me. I hop on the late train and
get to the Porto lot. Not shit. It’s overcast and glassy. The ocean has that
gray metallic glint over it, matching the sky, pure post-rain conditions. I
throw in my earplugs just in case.
Running on the sand, I recognize no one in
the lineup. I look to my left and spot another surfer running at my same speed
heading for the surf, too. The Hurley dual band over his thigh looks like
racing stripes on his wetsuit. We look at each other closer. He gives me a
thumbs up. It’s none other than WHC standout Manny A. AKA Manolo Fresh.
We talk but can barely hear each other
because we both have earplugs on, and we’re also stoked on the surf, so yeah,
we’re poor listeners.
The sections are fast but there are
shoulders. The tide’s low, so the waves are slottish for some mini tubes.
My first wave is a left, and I blow it with
improper weight distribution and poor balance and timing on my cutback. Lame. I
don’t fare much better for a while. On another left, I pull in on the shoulder,
and the lip chandeliers over me. It’s one of my cleanest tube glimpses in a
while, but some guys are standing on the inside in my line (because of the low
tide), so I penetrate out the back to avoid a collision. Eh. . . I doubt I
would have made it out cleanly anyway, but at that moment I could tell that it
was one of those mornings, where if you had the right wave you could get
barreled.
The wind starts to shift and turns the
water slightly choppy, but the shape’s still good. Manny catches a left, and I
take the right after his wave. Manny’s on my inside as I’m setting up my bottom
turn. I hear a hoot, climb the face, and uncoil a nice snap off the top.
Back in the lineup Manny says, “Dude, did
you see my wave?”
“No?” I say, still smiling.
“I just came out of a little tube! I was
giggling like a girl just now.”
“I would be, too!” I said. “You see my
right?”
So the dick sucking session began, the two
of us complementing each other, spreading ass cheeks and anuses. Isn’t that
what a stoked session with a friend is all about?!?!
For some reason I haven’t been good on my
lefts lately, as I score one more backhand snapperooskie on a right before
going in.
Back at my car, the wind’s picked up a bit
more, the ocean choppier. Manny’s still out there, though, still going for it.
Usually that would be me, but I got some things to do today. Gotta write. Gotta
have balance. Gotta pay attention to local intel from Mr. First Light. When he
says it’s good, believe it.
#
WHEN YOU DON’T WANT THE GYM, FRI
08MAY2015
Loc:
El Porto, 45th
Crew:
Bri
Time:
1500-1630
Conditions:
2-4 FT, consistent, overcast, onshore
Board:
5’9 Motorboat Too, Thruster
So when Bri comes home from work and says
she really doesn’t want to go to the gym today, what else does a surfbum
boyfriend do but recommend a surf session as an alternative? I take a look
outside and look at the trees in the driveway. The leaves are barely moving.
The cams look like the surf’s onshore but with shape. SOLD.
Pulling into the Porto lot, my expectations
are well met with surfable onshore conditions. This time, the sun’s out. The
sun’s making the peaks sparkle as they roll in. We can’t wait.
Since my surfing’s felt a little stale
lately, especially on my lefts, I whip out the Motorboat Too. With the tide on
the higher side and not much swell on tap, I figure I can open up on this
little thing.
Upon paddling out, Bri gets held back on
the inside and dragged north towards the rocks. It’s a little more consistent
than it had looked from the lot. Duckdiving a set, I also realize that it’s a
little bigger.
Only a few guys are out, but they’re
ripping. Guys are going down the line, pumping, dumping their momentum on
powerful finishing carves. I try to respond on a left but can only pump and
kick out before it closes. Bri makes it out towards me. I turn and go on a
wedgey little left. I feel late. One of the rippers is on my inside. I pop up,
but my front foot’s a little too far forward, so I purl. Blown left again. When
I resurface, the guy’s looking at me. I say sorry, smile, and paddle back out.
Damnit. I’m back on kook mode. Hmmm.
Probably should have used the Mini Driver. I know that I do my best on my
Motorboat Too at Trestles or when Porto is super soft, but I just can’t help
taking this thing out every once in a while.
Bri’s getting more waves than me. Maybe
she’s not doing solid turns on the 6’0 Mini Driver quite yet, but she looks
comfortable on it. A couple more waves, and she puts me in comboland.
During my struggle, the clouds move in, and
the sky’s overcast once more. The wind also picks up, and the surf gets blown
out.
Back at the lot, a guy who had paddled out
when we did is changing right by us. “It just switched, didn’t it?” I say.
“Yeah,” he says. “It got really bad, but it
was good earlier.”
No solid waves for me this evening, but I’m
glad we did this instead of the gym. Dang. What happened to balance?
#Comboland can be a popular place at times Duckbutter!
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