NO ROOM, TUE 10MAR2015

Loc: El Porto, 45^th Street                            
Time: 0750-0850
Conditions: 1-2 FT, offshore, inconsistent.
Board: Zippi

     Bri and I have this new routine where we’ll dawn patrol the surf, but if the surf is shit then we’ll go for a run instead. When we reach the Porto lot, there are scattered one-foot lines breaking over the low tide. It’s definitely a run morning.

     When we begin our run, Bri takes off in front of me. I figure I’ll catch up to her later, but she leaves me in her dust for about a mile. It’s when we’re about to make the right to get onto the Manhattan Beach Pier that I catch up to her, but when we leave the pier, the left turn back onto The Strand just shoots her through it like a boomerang. Yup. My girlfriend runs faster than me.

     She leaves for work, but I’m still stoked at the idea of catching a wave or two, so I circle my cheap ass around for free parking like I always do.

     A few locals who I’ve talked to a couple of times are watching the surf by the stairs. I walk past them with my blue Zippi in hand. The tide’s already softening up the surf, not offering much for the few beginners who are out.

     My mission is to milk it. Even though it’s small out, I know that I’ll catch something. My first wave bogs out, even on the fish. There’s a little bit of backwash making things funky. Some of the sections are racy, so I can only pump and mess around with some baby floaters.

     One of the local guys on a longboard with red trim paddles out. He has long hair and wears gloves, the kind with the webbing that helps you paddle faster. I’ve seen him ripping it in front of the tower before. Since I don’t want to compete with him, I paddle just a little south towards 42^nd.

     A small wave comes my way. I turn and go, and there are two Japanese groms standing in my way on the inside, so I pull out. I shake my head at this. Behind me, I hear them speaking Japanese. Another one sits off to my left, and then the other two corral me in. I don’t know what it is about surfers from Japan, but they always seem to do this.

     On this empty day, I’m ganged up on by these groms. One of them watches me on his inside as I pop up on a left. I’m on it first, but he still snakes me and goes anyway. “Fuck you!” I yell. Fuckin’ kids. Motherfuckers. How are they gonna snake me on an empty day when they can sit anywhere else? I’ll give it to them, though. They’re good. They’re tiny, so the small waves are maneuverable for them.

     I don’t wait to see if he heard me because he’s just a little shit. I don’t wanna be that guy blowing up on a kid. One of his friends paddles further away though. I sense that he knows his friend is a dick.

     Just when things seem shitty, I paddle south and catch a small two-foot wave. It lines up and gives an open rippable face. I pump about three times and get one good wrap to end it. My stoke meter is filled. Session done.    

     Leaving the water, again, it looks like the surf is getting better. I could move my car from the street cleaning and pay the meter for another hour, but I already feel fulfilled. Having put in a good run this morning and caught a nice wave, and all by 0900, I think I’m ready to carry on with the rest of my day.

     Fuckin’ Japanese groms. . .

ROOM, MON 09MAR2015

Loc: El Porto, 42^nd Street                            
Time: 0930-1045
Conditions: 1-3 FT, offshore, inconsistent.
Board: Zippi

     I’m not gonna let a small forecast hold me back from surfing, especially after my last fun small-wave session just days ago. Thanks to Surfline’s rating of today’s crappy surf, the whole Porto lot is vacant, save for a few desperados like myself.

     I spot fellow surf blogger Surf Sistah changing in front of the bathrooms. She’s a pretty rad longboarder, to the idea of surfing with her has me stoked. I leave the lot and find free parking.

     It’s slim pickings for surf this morning, but my expectations are low. If I can sneak away a turn or two while going down the line, my morning will be made.

     I paddle out by Surf Sistah and shoot the shit with her a little bit. I didn’t know she lives in Crenshaw. “And I have to drop the kids off before driving here,” she says. She always has a wide smile underneath her dreadlocks. On the small rights, she pops up and goes left, riding the reform that gives her an open face, but the surf looks too small for even her board.

     Meanwhile, the Zippi’s holding its own. My best flurry is three waves I get back to back to back. Even on the tiny ones, all I have to do is turn and go while kicking, and I’m in there.

     When Surf Sistah leaves, we wave to each other, and I hang back to get a few more. This spot is usually packed with an agro lineup, but it’s on small days like these when you can surf the best beach break in the South Bay all to yourself with plenty of room.

BAD JOKE 2 (double sesh), THU 05MAR2015

Loc: El Porto, 45^th Street                            
Time: 0945-1200        
Conditions: 2-3 FT, inconsistent, swampy. 
Board: Motorboat Too

     I’m gonna be at work tomorrow all the way through Sunday, leaving me with today being my last chance for a decent session. With a pulse from the south steadily rising, today is supposed to be a good day of surf.

     Unlike yesterday, I choose my window wisely, not dawn patrolling and going too early. Gotta wait for the tide to at least top out. By 0900, the morning already seems to be passing me by. I can’t wait any longer, so I head out the door by 0930.

     Looking down the 45^th Street hill, I see lines coming in, but none of them have broken. A few surfers paddle into my sights and disappear into the peripheries. Regardless, I have a good feeling about today. It’s a hot beautiful spring day. The water’s glassy and inviting. Anything seems possible.

     I trot down the hill with my Motorboat Too in hand because the surf is gonna change. That window’s gonna open, the tide’s gonna go down, and I’m gonna have some fun shortboardable rippable three-foot peaks to ride. That’s all I want. At least three feet. That’s it.

     When I reach the sand, a soft set rolls in, breaking in the main take off spots at 45^th and in front of the tanks, but they moosh out and reform into shorepound. Looks promising though. There is some kind of pulse out there.   

     Paddling out, the water’s deep on the inside. I turn and go on an inside wave, and it mooshes out the second I pop up.

     I patrol the lineup, patiently, waiting for surf conditions to improve. A few set waves pop up, but the bigger they are the shittier their shape, and I can only go straight or pump away on their racy sections.

     Into my first hour, I still haven’t gotten one fucking turn. A few good waves do come in, legit three-foot plus with corners. A chick who looks like Malia Manuel gets one of them, cranking off a backhand snap at the end of it.

     “That’s the best wave I’ve seen all morning,” I say to her.

     “Yeah,” she says, “like every fifteen minutes!”

     But it’s not fifteen minutes. It takes longer than that. Guys are just as desperate as I am, sitting on top of each other for prime position. I get one of the bigger ones of the morning, but it races away too fast. It had actually curled a little. Maybe I should have just pulled in? I don’t know.

     Meanwhile, a second gem rolls through, another rare down-the-line left. Malia Manuel lookalike is on it again. I paddle over the shoulder as she glides right past me. I want a wave just like it, but it never comes.

     I surf until noon, forcing the whole session, waiting to meet my quota, but it never happens. Looking at the ocean while walking backwards, the surf actually looks like it’s getting better. Or is it? Sometimes it always looks better when you’re leaving, but I had just wasted the whole morning and didn’t catch shit. It’s a shitty way to part with the ocean before seeing it again next week.

#

OLD RELIABLE, THU 05MAR2015

Loc: El Porto, 45^th Street                            

Time: 1400-1545   

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 2-3 FT, offshore, inconsistent, low tide.    

Board: Zippi

     I’m unloading my gear back home when Bri just gets back from work. We’re supposed to go to the gym, but she says she’s feeling lazy. “We could go to the beach,” I say. “It’s small, but it’s surfable on a big board.” After scarfing down a vegetable smoothie, some cookies, and water, we’re heading back to El Porto with my wagon loaded up.

     The onshore wind’s barely coming up, so the conditions are still nice. On the lower tide, the peaks are standing up a little bit more and coming in more consistent. The sun is blinding and lower on the horizon. I rarely surf at this hour, but I really need to redeem myself for the last two sessions. With my Zippifish, I’m hoping that I’ll finally have an advantage with the small surf.

     I don’t know if it’s because Bri is out here, because I have the right board, or because the surf’s actually improved, but I immediately wrack up a wavecount higher than the last two sessions combined. The surf is different when you have the right equipment. Lackluster waves on my Motorboat Too are now open-face rippable on the Zippi. Back to back, Bri and I are trading off on waves. Only a few longboarders actually know what they’re doing out here, but besides them we’re owning the “beginner hour.”     

     I’m getting legit cutbacks on the lefts, even getting three backhand snaps on a right. From the inside, I watch Bri going left on her backhand. She bottom turns, climbs the face, and does a check turn high up on the pocket, stalling her 6’8 NSP to stay where the power is. It’s the best turn/maneuver I’ve ever seen her do.

     We have to leave a little after an hour because Bri has to go to work, but I leave feeling satisfied, a feeling that I haven’t had in a while. It kind of puts everything in perspective. Maybe I didn’t even need to wait for those windows, dawn patrolling in HB early and coming here to Porto with my shortboard. Equipment was key this session, and the Zippifish made the whole difference. I’m never gonna discount this board again. I can still dawn patrol. I can still surf. All along, I just needed the right board. Surf has been right here all along.