SEAWEED MONSTER, MON 29JUN2015

Loc: El Porto, 42^nd Street

Time: 0645-0915

Crew: Rick

Conditions: 3-4 FT, choppy, crowded, seaweed

     Bri and I score free parking and take a look at the surf. It’s a bit choppy, and the peaks are a little fast and racy. “Could use a little more water,” I say.

     “I don’t feel like surfing today,” says Bri.

     I change into boardshorts at the car. We go back and forth about her decision not to surf, but I don’t guilt trip her. I understand. “You can run.” My phone goes off. It’s a text from Rick. He’s paddling out in front of the bathrooms at Porto.

     We change locations and score another free spot on Highland Avenue. I hope that I won’t regret my decision to trunk it despite the air still feeling cool.

     I spot Rick in the lineup. He’s going right, dismounting his board in front of a guy caught on the inside. The surfer can’t make it out. Rick tries to paddle but is stuck on the inside. He gets off his board and messes around with his leash.

     Bri begins her run while I walk through the water. It’s cool. The whitewash hits my belly, and I turn into a pussy. Mounting my board, I’m poked by some seaweed. Not even halfway out, and my leash is weighed down by mopheads of it. I’m sluggish, forced to duckdive two waves. I sneak up on Rick and surprise him.

     “Lots of seaweed,” he says. “I got all tangled up just now.”

     “I know. I saw!”

     And then something just happens, a phenomenon. Rick’s wave-magnet mojo rubs off on me, and we both just start trading off on waves, running a paddling carousel around the other guys in the lineup. Despite the weird conditions, wedgey peaks are standing up. My best wave’s a racy left. I pump, check turn, and stick a layback carve at the end. Rick’s making even the closeouts look good, banking hits off the top before they shut down.

     The lineup gets more crowded. The only gap is where all the seaweed is. I’m the only one trunking it. I’m not cold, but since I don’t have a wetsuit on, the seaweed wraps itself around my whole body. It’s itchy, like I’m duckdiving through trash. I paddle south away from the seaweed and the crowd. The wind picks up. I’m not getting the same solid rides as before, but I’m at least getting some layback carve practice on the end sections. Who knew? I never thought I’d see progress in this maneuver, but I’m actually beginning to stick some of these. Little by little. If I can do these, I hope they’ll translate into layback snaps in the future.