MENTOR MORNINGS, THU 11JUN2015

Loc: El Porto, 40^th Street

Crew: Rick, Juan, Gary

Time: 0630-0830

Conditions: 2-3 FT, overcast, drizzle, glassy, uncrowded

     Tuesday’s session really stung. Klaude and I didn’t even speak to each other on Wednesday, and we’re madly gay for each other, so a day without talking says a lot. Yesterday I vented to Rick about how Tuesday went.

     He said, “You know, Matt, this hasn’t really been a good year for that area.” He tells me about his upcoming camp trip at the end of the month. Maybe that’s what it will take. Some mentor Karma. He also said that he’s taking Thursday off from work and that he’ll be checking Porto at first light.

     “Maybe I’ll join you,” I said. Later that night, I checked my phone before going to bed. I had missed a text from Rick that read: I’ll pick you up.

#

     My alarm goes off at 0445. I’m under five hours of sleep. As much as I’d like to curl into a man-fetus and go back to sleep, I rustle myself off of the futon. When I’m in the bathroom, I hear it raining outside. I text Rick about it. “Yeah, raining a little over here, too,” he says.

     Rick shows up at 0530. It’s dark out and sprinkling. By the time we score free parking near the strand at 40^th Street, it’s already light out. It’s an ugly and wet morning, overcast as far as the eye can see. The waves look small and weak but still surfable. My expectations were low anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

     Out in the lineup, I struggle with my shortboard. I got that Zippifish in the garage, but if the surf is so small that I have to surf that thing, I’d rather not paddle out.

     Rick’s on his Neckbeard, and he’s doing his best. It’s hard to get a turn, but he pumps hard, makes sections, and finishes off his waves with a hit.

     The best I can do is pump and pull a few floaters.

     A local guy paddles into a left. As he’s going down the line, he yells, “Get the fuck outta the way!” I learn later that there’s a bodyboarder surfing the inside.

     I make a mental note to stay out of his way. Rick paddles up to him. They talk. Next wave, Rick snakes him. The guy’s trying to catch up to Rick, but the wake is too much. He dismounts his board and starts shaking his head in annoyance. Fuckin’ Rick.

     Then Gary and Juan show up. Haven’t surfed with these guys in a minute.

     “The 33^rd, 34^th area was bigger yesterday,” says Gary. I’ve been so out of the loop. I’m ashamed when he tells me he’s been paddling out every day.

     It’s a far from epic session, but we have fun. I catch a couple slow rollers, but just being with those guys, staying local, and not having high hopes really made it the funnest sesh that I’ve had in a while.

     Afterwards, Rick and I head to Blue Butterfly for coffee. It’s packed. With nowhere to sit, we hop back in the van, and he drops me back off at the house. It was a mentor morning, and now I feel better than ever to start the rest of my day.