Saturday, January 7, 2017

2017-2


 

                I write this after going to a bar at Hermosa Beach to celebrate a coworker’s birthday. It’s the first time that I’ve partied with those guys, and God bless their Mexican and Black souls, but being in my married state, I definitely realize that there is nothing for me out there in the single world of bar and club hopping. Sure, the music sounds great when you’re buzzed, but I’ve already lived out this scene in my twenties.

                This morning I woke up late and took a look at the surf cam at El Porto. The waves looked small and like they were breaking close to shore, but the conditions were clean. On the late train, I filled my hot-water jugs and started up the surf wagon.

                On the way there driving through El Segundo, I saw that the wind was light offshore. On Vista Del Mar, I told myself that I’d actually spring for the metered parking at the Porto lot. Driving in front of the smoke stacks, I could see small but rippable peaks. When I noticed free parking, I opted to pull in there instead.

                I sent out a few bat signals, letting my mates know that the surf was small but clean. Of course, with the recent rains there was the risk of getting sick or catching some kind of bug from the tampon-polluted water. Worth the risk? Absolutely.

                I suited up in my wife’s 5mm hooded wetsuit, only because my 4/3 needs some tears repaired. Walking down to the beach on 45th, I could see that the session was building up to be a classic second shifter with decent conditions. Maybe the word didn’t quite get out, but the lot wasn’t as packed as it could’ve been. As far as breaks are concerned. 42nd St. had the most heads, but 45th, which I had my eye on, only had a few people.

                One of the old dads from 26th St., my other spot, was actually surfing there. We chit chatted for a bit. What else can I saw? For two whole hours, I only had light competition from a guy on a Zippifish and a couple dudes on longboards. Everyone else was a noob who eventually drifted away. My magic Kadowaki Puddle Jumper really did wonders in the waist-high surf, getting me into small waves and making sections to milk the most out of each ride. Even when I left at noon, the onshore was fairly light and plenty of peaks still up for grabs. According to my Trace mount, I caught 48 waves. Later, Gary pointed out that I had caught 100 waves in my last two sessions. I wasn’t counting, but that’s a nice little stat to start the new year.

                Even though a lot of people opted out to avoid post-rain surf, I’m glad I paddled out. I’m glad I caught a good, clean day of surf.

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