FOGGY GAMBLE, FRI 19JUN2015

Loc: El Porto, Rosecrans - 30^th Street

Crew: Gary, Dave T., Juan

Time: 0550-0755

Conditions: 2-3 FT, overcast, foggy, uncrowded, drained tide

Board: Lost Mini Driver

     When Gary put out the bat signal that he’d be surfing this morning, I was concerned about the low tide. The last two days, I’ve pulled later-morning sessions to make sure I caught the surf with a little more water on the surface, but we’d be paddling out during negative tide. This is when you have to make an O.G. call. You could be selfish and wait for the tide push, or you can make an effort to get some quality time with the homies.

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     My alarm wakes me at 0500. As tired as I should be from under four hours of sleep, I get up easily. Bri and I had prepacked our gear last night, but she says, “I’m not getting up.” We went to sleep late. It’s not her fault.

     I have my Zippi and Lost Mini Driver just in case there’s a decent bump in the swell. The plan is to look at the surf first and then make a pimp decision, but the fog is the thickest it’s been all week. I know that the WHC won’t be on funboards, so I’ll be taking the Mini Driver.

     When I reach the parking lot at 0530, I see Dave T. and Garr’s cars, but they’re gone. Fuckin’ A. Those guys must have been here really early. How dedicated.

     Walking down to the sand from Rosecrans, I can’t see the lineup until I’m about to paddle out, and that’s when I see Garr on a closeout left. I paddle up and say wassup to the homies.

     Surprisingly, there is a new pulse in swell. Nothing too crazy, maybe three feet tops, but the drained tide is inhibiting its potential. When the set waves pop up, they race away really fast in the shin-deep water. Now I’m thinking how I wish I had the Zippi. At least I’d be able to milk a little more out of each ride.

     Fifteen minutes into the session, Juan emerges through the fog. The current’s pulling us north, so Gary leads the way in paddling us back to Rosecrans. In doing so, we lose Dave T. So now it’s Juan, Gary, and me trading off on closeouts.

     After the tide bottoms out, the quality increases a little with the push. Peaks start standing up with more manageable shoulders. I get up on a left and see a fast open face before me. My first instinct is to pump and set up for a turn, but then the wave starts to curl, and I fall behind the section outside of the curtain. It’s a missed barrel. I should’ve pulled in.

     Gary takes a long left to shore and walks out without giving a last-wave call. He looks at the tower and tries to yell at me. Unfortunately, I can’t hear him over the water, but I think he’s telling me that we’re at tower 42.

     Rick has the gift of being a wave magnet. In Juan’s case, the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree. So far, my best ride this morning is a frontside floater. Juan gets a peaky left. As he stands up, he says, “Oh my God,” and pulls in, seconds later he penetrates out the back. “Oh, man! That wave was perfect! I was in there.”

     My next wave is a closeout.

     Juan catches another wave similar to that partial barrel he had just gotten. Same thing, he yells, “Oh my god!” This time, I watch him through the wave and track his black cap driving through the barrel. He pulls out and rides into the flats before the wave closes out. He’s beyond stoked.

     No, I don’t get a wave like Juan’s. I try. Closeout pinchers at best.

     When we get out, we find that we’ve drifted all the way to tower 30. That’s damn near close to 26^th Street where I had surfed the last three days. My GPS is off. I swear the current was sucking us north, but we’ve drifted way south of Rosecrans.

     Juan asks if I can join him for coffee, but I have to pass because of some errands I gotta do. It’s 0815 when I leave the lot. Prime time is now. It’s still glassy, and the tide is filling in. Even though I’d usually be hitting the surf now, I’m still glad I got to change it up and get some face time with the fellas.