Loc:
Manhattan Beach
Crew:
Dais
Time:
0745-0945
Conditions:
2-3 FT, overcast, consistent, uncrowded
Board:
Zippifish
Klaude’s not a big guy on “expectations,”
and he’s right. The more you expect, most of the time, the more let down you’ll
be. So after weeks of being bummed on mediocre conditions, with a current
forecast of tiny surf, I stripped and waxed the Zippifish yesterday. No
expectations. I just want to paddle out and catch waves, even if they’re only
one foot high. I sent a courtesy text to Dais to let him know.
#
After snoozing, I wake up at 0705. Fuck. I
told Dais I’d be in the water by now. I pick up my phone. He had texted me five
minutes ago, his message reads: Is it tiny?
I tell him I’m on the way, change, fill up
a hot water jug, and I’m out the door.
Driving down Grand Avenue, people are
jogging up and down the hill. A construction guy in an orange vest holds a stop
sign to guide traffic. I’m thinking, I missed that guy. However, it’s not
really him I had missed, I’ve been missing this routine of just driving down
this avenue, passing by familiar sights on the way to surf.
Driving past Porto, I sneak a couple peeks at
the surf in front of the smoke stacks. A longboarder’s on a small left. Looks a
little promising for the Zippi, nothing too crazy.
Parking’s packed near 26th, so I
score free parking on the hill. Looking down from my spot, the waves look
consistent and bigger than expected. On the way down, I verify that what I’m
seeing is not a mirage.
Don K., The King of 26th, is
parked on the corner changing.
“I thought it was gonna be smaller,” I say,
holding up my board. “I brought this big thing!”
“I brought my big old board, too!” he says.
At the tower, a grom on a longboard trims
down the line on a racy left. I see Roy’s out and a few other familiar faces.
The sets are coming in at three-feet and
closing out, but some in-betweener waves offer some racy shoulders. I’m stoked.
Paddling out, I just have this shit-eating grin. I already know it’s gonna be a
good day.
I post up north of the tower away from Roy
to get some room. A minute later he calls my name and waves. Gotta love local.
It’s good to belong somewhere, a home in the water. For me it’s here. Roy says
he had surfed Porto yesterday with Don, and that it was actually fun. Once
again, I missed out.
I paddle south of the tower and chill with
the homie Collin for a bit. We bullshit about the Fiji Pro final yesterday,
Owen Wright and his two perfect heats. I was so stoked watching that yesterday
that I had told Klaude I was gonna surf 26th Street this morning as
if I were surfing Fiji . . . on the fish!
Then waves just start coming in. Collin’s
struggling on his shortboard, but the Zippi is just too easy. I catch a
dredging left that I know is going to closeout, so I pop up, grab rail, and
just put my ass on the deck. I get the swirling perspective of a perfect
shoulder before it rolls me over. Not bad for the Zippi.
I almost purl a few times, and that’s when I
wonder if I should’ve brought the shortboard instead. It would’ve been doable.
Collin leaves and Dais paddles out. Haven’t
seen my longhaired Japanese homie in a minute. We catch up on everything,
relationships, future job prospects, the rest of our homies, life. We also
trade off on solid waves. I end a left with a stylish floater. Dais catches a
left all the way to shore, which puts me in combo land. I get a right, throwing
out a small bucket out the back. The surf’s so consistent and unexpectedly fun
that we go a good while without talking because he wave to be ready for the
sets.
Dais leaves at 0935. I stick it out another
ten minutes to make the sesh a legit two hours. The wind’s slightly onshore
now, but the peaks are still clean. I could stay, wanna stay, but I also need
some balance. Two hours isn’t bad for a morning sesh to start the day.
Leaving the water, I see that Roy is still
out. Costco Kim is just paddling out. Miles and Bruce are on their longboards.
With a light texture on the ocean’s surface, clean peaks are still rolling in.
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