FLAKE KARMA, TUE 24FEB2015

Loc: El Porto, Rosecrans

Time: 0645-0745   

Crew: Bri    

Conditions: 2-4 FT, howling sideshore, walled, consistent.   

Board: Lost Mini Driver

     I had planned to surf this morning with Cassady at Huntington Beach. I predicted that this morning would be fun there because there’s some decent WNW and a small South in the water, good for some small combo beach break. But of course, I stayed up way too late playing PS4 last night. Damn you, Call of Duty, Advanced Warfare, why did you have to be so fun!?

     So instead, I’m texting Cassady this morning, telling him that I’m gonna be surfing local.

     Local . . . Bri has to surf Porto because she has to go to work, and it’s closer to home, so I head to 26^th Street, and the surf looks like shit. It’s small, ripply, and there’s no shape.

     I head back to Rosecrans to meet Bri. She’s already suited up and about to paddle out. The surf looks the same here but just bigger. “I just have to get out there,” she says, as she walks out to the sand.

     Meh . . . I don’t want to surf, not this. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that this will be a shitty session, a waste, but then a little voice in my head starts talking. “Be a man,” it’s saying. “Surf with your girl.” Aside from the voice, the WHC text thread from Saturday said that there was a shark sighting at Porto. Also, I saw some footage on Instagram that shows more sightings along the coast. I get nervous at the thought of Bri surfing without a battle buddy, so I must suit up.

     Surprisingly, the water’s not cold, but the conditions are uninviting. Guys are already getting swept north by the current. A chick’s on the inside, trying to surf a Costco foamie, and she’s getting worked. Her friend lost his foamie. He’s climbing back on shore while the current’s holding onto his board halfway to the lineup. A guy who had paddled out in front of me tries to push the board in on an inside wave, but the board only goes a couple of feet. I wonder if its owner will have the balls to swim out and get it.

     I catch up to Bri, and the whole time, the waves are just racy and sectiony. No one is catching shit, save for going straight. A lot of water is moving around, not treacherous from the swell but from the wind.

     When a wave slightly resembling a shoulder rolls in, I turn and catch it. Pumping down the line, the wave is racing away from me. I kick out with the wind blowing strong against my board. When I stick my head out of the water, my board hits me right on the tip of my fucking left ear. Geezus, it fucking HURTS! I’m holding my ear and grimacing like a bitch. I look at my hand. No blood. Meanwhile, here comes another cleaner set. I paddle at halfass strength, not gaining nor losing any ground against the set. I'm still trying to recover from getting clobbered. Out back is just row upon row of whitewash. Bri is behind me, but even she catches up and passes me. I turn around, and I’m near the shore. I laugh in frustration. What shitty surf, all this work for nothing. No, not nothing, because my fucking ear hurts, and it wasn’t worth it.

     Stubbornly, I paddle back to the top of the wave. My ear feels better. I’m okay. So long as I’m not cut open.

     The waves don’t get better. At this point, I hate the world. I hate shitty sessions, but I asked for this one. I knew this would happen, save for the ear thing.

     I beat the next cleanup set, but my last wave is just a closeout. Bri and I ride an inside wave to shore.  

     Now I’m in a shitty mood. When we get home, Bri gets ready for work. I start to mellow out and tell her how my board hit my ear. “Be careful,” I tell her.

     “I will,” she says.

     I feel behind my ears, and something’s crusty. I look at my finger, and there are red crystals. “Babe,” I say. “Can you look behind my ear and tell me if I’m bleeding?” I turn around for her.

     “Oh gosh!” she says.

     I look at her. Her eyes are wide beneath her glasses. “Is it bad?” I ask.

     “Ummmm. Let me clean it up.” She sits me down and whips out the Q-tip and alcohol. Afterwards, I look in the mirror. I got a nice gash where my ear meets my cranium. Also, I check the surf report. South Huntington is rated Fair-to-Good conditions, barely any wind.

     Later, Cassady texts me and says it was fun. I know . . . I just KNOW he’s not lying.

BEFORE DRILL, THU 19FEB2015

 

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0645-0845   

Crew: Tom Y.      

Conditions: 5 FT, soft.               

Board: Lost Mini Driver

     Before leaving for drill, it’s imperative that I get a really good surf session before I take off. In this case, I’ll be up north the whole weekend, so I really want some memorable waves that I can froth over while I’m gone.

     Rick had told me to surf Porto because it will be bigger there. He didn’t even need to mention how the shape there will probably be better, too. Regardless, I’m not surfing there. I don’t want my pre-drill session to be a frustrating one against a crowd.

     Parked at the top of the hill, I see that there’s some decent size, a little bit bigger than expected. However, the tide’s on it. Also, I haven’t seen a clean shoulder break from the outside all the way in. It’s soft and walled, if that makes sense. Of course, I hope for the best anyway and paddle out.

     You know it’s a bad sign when barely any locals are out. Actually, barely anyone is out.

     The size seems a little harrowing, but since it’s swampy, duckdiving isn’t an issue. It’s more like a duckdive training kind of morning, when you can just work on your technique and not get rolled.

     Before long, I’m joined by Viet Vet Mike. Stocky Jon paddles out, too.

     We’re constantly faked out, paddling for waves that look like they’re going to break, but they don’t. When I finally do catch a wave, it mooshes out after a couple pumps. When all seems like it’s gonna get worse from here, cleanup sets start appearing. If it wasn’t for the tide, we’d all have some mean hold downs. Instead, it’s just a lot of paddling and a lot of duckdiving, but nothing critical. But the outside waves lack shape. Just a nuisance to the already soft regular-sized waves.

     I spot Tom Y. by The Brick House, so we paddle up to each other and catch up. Turns out he’s just gotten back from Denver on a vacay from work. “I haven’t surfed since I last saw you,” he says. I think that was two weeks ago.

     I take the next right, and the wave bogs out on me right after my topturn. Tom takes the next wave and disappears as it breaks. He paddles back with a sore look on his face, saying, “Fuck, I’m so out of shape. I’m getting good waves but my paddle sucks!”

     We get separated, and I find myself by Stocky Jon. For the first time this morning, a shouldery left comes through. I pump down the line, trying to set up for a good carve, but the wave is weak. I check turn and then pump some more for a strong finishing move. I put as much weight as I can into the turn, even torqueing my board so hard that the nose is almost facing the other direction, but the turn lacks “umph.” I’m forcing my board to do something that the wave isn’t made for.

     Stocky J. gets the next one. Instead of turning, he rides it all the way to shore, just pumping down the line.

     The whole session, Don K. is on the right board, a gunny shortboard that looks like it has a lot of foam. He catches every wave, surfing well, his rides are long, precisely doing what each wave calls for.

     I leave the beach not quite unfulfilled but not satisfied either. There were waves out there, but I just didn’t surf that well. Maybe I should have used the Zippifish? I don’t know. Driving back to El Segundo, I have to be content with this being my last session of the week until I can surf again when I come back home.