Time: 0830-1030
Conditions: offshore, fast, dumpy, 2-3 Ft.
Board: Catch Surf Skipper
I had
a hard time leaving, the conditions were so good. The whole time, the wind was
either offshore, creating slight texture on the water, blowing mists over the
curling lips. Or…the wind would just die and everything would glass off. The
air was humid; it was desert surfing again, return of the red flag.
The
day prior, the water was cold, but on this morning, the water felt much warmer.
I was boiling in my full suit, even though it’s holy. There was one guy trunking
it. I wouldn’t say it’s warm enough for that, but, clearly, I could’ve busted
out my spring or short-sleeve full. I pissed in my suit twice, and that was enough
to make me too warm, uncomfy.
The
swell tapered down from Tuesday, but there were still waves. They were breaking
the same; smaller insiders had the best potential for shape while the bigger set
waves were fast and dumped close to shore.
With my
Catch Surf Skipper in hand, I was adequately equipped for the conditions. I
pulled in both left and right. I’m still struggling on my backhand, but it was
still good practice. I think I could’ve gotten barreled on one, but I wasn’t
positioned right; I outraced it. On the lefts, there was one that I almost made
it out of. It was one of those rare, perfect shoulders. It broke fast. I doggy
doored it but lost my balance through the curtain. That would’ve been major
success for me if I would’ve made it out clean.
Going
left, I did practice on getting that first initial pump to set up my momentum
right. It worked well on this one wave that had a growing section in front of
it, but I still lost it.
There
was only a light crowd to deal with the whole time. 20 Minute Toru was there,
other than him, I had some small talk with a few other guys who I see there all
the time, but I was pretty much in my own world.
When it
was time to leave, I walked up 29th St. to the free parking on
Highland Ave., and the houses that lined the walkway made the atmosphere look
like an urban paradise. There were palm trees, exotic plants, and just a lot of
well-manicured foliage that made my trek up the hill gorgeous. I wondered if I
should be thanking the owners of these multi-million-dollar homes. I imagined
what it would be like to be them, and then I realized that I’ve only seen a few
of these homes with anyone ever in them, nor have I ever seen anyone in a
surfboard or wetsuit rushing it, coming out of these homes. No, that’s actually
not true. I did see a grom once come out of one of the houses, but not from a
McMansion. I’ve also seen guys in wetsuits from some of the smaller homes that
are sandwiched in between, away from the walkway. Well, the point I was going
to make was that I don’t think all the people there are even maximizing their close
proximity to the surf. Most of the homes don’t even seem occupied. And, yes, I
don’t live there, but I feel that I maximize the shit out of my proximity to
the beach, the four miles it takes me to get there. But it’s still nice, quiet and
peaceful every time I trek up the hill. It’s a reminder that I’ll never be rich
like that, but my life is rich, and maybe I should thank them for making
everything so nice for a surf bum like me.
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