RESIDUE PT.2, SUN 23AUG2015

Loc: El Porto, Rosecrans

Time: 0730-0840

Crew: Bri, Rick, Gary, Manny, Dave, Chris, Jack, Russ

Conditions: 1-3 FT, inconsistent, crowded

Board: Motorboat Too

     It’s hard to get up early after Orlando’s party. I look at my phone, Rick had texted me an hour ago.

     There’s no legit swell on tap, so I’m not expecting anything this morning. Especially since we’re meeting Rick at Rosecrans on a Sunday, I know it’ll be crowded.

     Pulling into the lot brings back a memory of how I had brought my brother here to surf for the first time, the cliques of surfers lined up along the lot. “Too much of a scene,” he had said.

     This morning, it’s not so bad. I catch Whiffle Boy pulling out his board from his car, stop, and ask him if he’s ready to shred. He laughs.

     I spot Rick’s van at the end of the lot and score the last parking spot there. Jimmy B.’s rinsing off as Bri and I get to the sand. We call out and wave to him.

     As crowded as the lineup is, we spot the Hurley wetsuits in the water. Rick’s hat also gives away their position. Almost all of their crew is out, and they’re holding down a whole peak to themselves.

     Greetings go all around when Bri and I reach the water. The conditions are clean with just a light onshore, but the surf is inconsistent. I get a right immediately, but my snap on the end section is lackluster.

     Meanwhile, the WHC crew is in full heat-mode. Gary goes for a left and scratches out, and Manny gives him so much shit for it. Of course it’s playful banter, but they’re being a little hard on each other the way good friends do.

     Before that, Rick had taken a wave under Gary’s priority, and Gary dropped in on him, taking the wave and scoring a hit on the inside section. All Rick could do was shrug because he knew it was Gar’s wave. It’s the only time you’ll ever see him give one up.

     In the spirit of pushing each other, I get a decent left that everyone’s eyeing. I get up a little late but make the drop and pump down the line. I want to send a bucket over the back, but the wave walls up. Instead, I get a little float job and stick the landing. Manny hoots me on. Eh, I know it’s a charity hoot, but it’s just nice that they don’t blow up on me like they do on each other.

     A backhand hit on a right is probably my best wave. The surf isn’t offering much for turns, but Bri paddles into a nice right, pops up, and goes down the line. All the homies give me the nod of approval.

     We’re done in about an hour. Even though it was crowded, it was one of those sessions when it was fun to just hear everyone talk shit. It was crowded, but there were also a couple waves, too. I think I’m finally getting back into the swing of things since coming home.

     In the lineup, I had heard this one guy rant to his friend. I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I got the gist of it. “This is all we have,” he said, holding out his arms towards the ocean. He was talking about how some guy was being greedy in these small, begging conditions.

     This is it. This is what we have. Shitty surf or rippable, be grateful for it. Paddle out and own it, but you have to share at the same time. This ain’t Indo, but this is where I surf. Take some pride in it.