WED 23SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th Street

Time: 0800-0910      

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 1-3 FT, variable wind, high tide, backwashy

Board: Motorboat Too

     What the fuck? I know that the primary swell is from the south, but how about a little wrap-around energy? I should have known it was a bad sign when barely any of the regulars were out. I spotted Oscar south of the tower, and so was the guy who had run over Bri one time. He was on his Costco foamie. I didn’t want to surf by him, so I moved us in front of the brick house.

     That one short stocky dude who helps coach the surf team was doing well on his funboard. Foam, maybe that’s what I needed. Even Bri struggled on her Hopper, which is blessed with volume.

     After a wave, she came back and said, “I just noticed this now.” She pointed to her deck. A line was going across the nose. The deck had a slight crack in it. It was flexed. “I think I nosedived it inside.”

     “You mean purled,” I said.

     One of the set waves was worthy for a pull in. It closed out from the backwash, but it was fun just to get gobbled by a wave that size.

     A squad of grom bodyboarders paddled out. I caught a left, a good one, and one of the kids was standing right in my line, filming me with his GoPro, so I had to kick out.

     “My bad!” he said.

     Last wave to go in, I wasn’t expecting much, but I paddled into a right that actually had a shoulder, at least a single hitter, but I didn’t even get a chance to wind up for the snap because my fiancé snaked me. Fuckin’ A. I guess that’s what marriage is about, letting someone snake you on your wave.

TUE 22SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th Street

Time: 0800-0910      

Conditions: 2-3 FT, glassy, warm, inconsistent

Board: Motorboat Too, large fins

     During the Labor Day camp trip, someone had told me, “Small board, big fins. Big board, small to medium fins.” With that in mind, and without much swell on tap, I thought it would be nice to experiment, so I grabbed the set of large Futures that Rick had given me to donate in Indo, which I didn’t, and slapped those suckers on the Motorboat Too. They have much more surface area than the medium Blackstix that KK had loaned me.

     As I said, I wasn’t expecting much, so I even showed up late for the second shift. To my demise, there was no street parking. I circled around and caught glimpses of the high schoolers on what looked like decent peaks. My anxiety grew looking for a spot, and I finally lucked out on Marine.

     I grabbed the MB Too and headed across The Strand, and there they were. Peaks, though fast, they were pretty consistent just south of 26^th Street. Unfortunately, that’s where the majority of the surfers were sitting.

     I paddled out at the tower and scratched into my first wave. Don K., The King, had to back out for me. I anticipated a zippy ride on my board, but as soon as I got to my feet, my board felt so sluggish and just got stuck. Man, I mean, like it was just shackled. Starved for momentum, all I could do was head dip the lip as the shoulder took off without me. Oh . . . how lame. Ha! And for The King of 26^th Street to have to back out for me on that one? For shame. . .

     And that’s how the rest of the session went. I watched that one good peak break. One dude, who I had never seen before, was just merry-go-rounding it one wave after another, small rides but still fun.

     My best wave was just a pumper where I got down the line, but I cursed the big fins. Yeah, there comes a good time for experimentation, but sometimes it just doesn’t work out. Like going to your favorite restaurant and trying out a different dish. You ever do that? I have, and most of the time I regret not just sticking to the staples: beef chow fun, eggplant with garlic sauce, salt and pepper pork chops. However, if you don’t try, you never know.

THE RETURN TO LOCAL PT.2, SUN 20SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th Street

Time: 0700-0745      

Conditions: 1-2 FT+, glassy, inconsistent

Board: 5’10” Lost Mini Driver

     I had the expectation that surf would be smaller. Well, it wasn’t, it was just more inconsistent. Not sure if it was because of the tide, but the waves were just dumpy. Some longboarders seemed to be doing okay. I had a feeling that the surf would get better on the higher tide, but I didn’t have time for that. Bri and I left after 45 minutes, that’s how lame the session was.

THE RETURN TO LOCAL, SAT 19SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th Street

Time: 0620-0800      

Conditions: 1-3 FT, glassy, warm, dumpy

Board: 5’10” Lost Mini Driver

     Can you imagine? I just returned from the Trestles area yesterday, and now I’m sitting in this. Sure, the water’s so fucking clear I can see sand dollars and stingrays. Yes, the water’s so fucking warm and inviting that “I can’t believe it’s like this in September” over and over again. But the wave is dumpy. Two-foot lines just stand up, stretch out, and dump. I miss North Churches.

     There is the occasional corner. I pass up on a solid right because I don’t want to backpaddle Stocky John. He takes it and goes far.

     Bri, holy shit, that Spyder Hopper that Rick had leant her is just too easy for her. She’s riding that thing like the NSP, and she’s hungry, getting way more waves than me. Even the other locals are rubber necking, wondering how she’s getting into so many.

     Second solid wave that I pass on is a left, and the shoulder looks hollow, my kind of small-barrel puss wave that I love so much, but yet, I must back out for Bri.

     I pull in on a few and get some quick glances but no real drive. Just a delayed pinch when I’m engulfed by a liquid bounce house.

     As warm as it is, I’m actually cold. Wagon Week has taken its toll. I’m just plain tired.

     When we go in, we run into Klaude on the sand. Afterwards, Bri and I have breakfast at Mandy’s. Small surf or not, I’m just happy to be home. Wagon Week was fun, but after camping that long it’s just nice to have luxuries again.

     More coffee.

FALL, SAT 12SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0630-0820

Crew: Bri, KK, Tom   

Conditions: 2-3 FT, light texture, mid-to-high tide, overcast

Board: 5’10 Lost Mini Driver, quads with nubster

     I wasn’t expecting much to begin with, but after taking a lay day I really wanted to paddle out and catch whatever the surf was offering. We scored free parking and got to the water by 0615. I flipped my board upside down and saw that I had punctured the bottom of my board, a deep one the circumference of a quarter.

     “You can’t surf it like that,” said Bri. She paddled out ahead of me.

     Fuck. It’s not like I had another board. I rushed back to the car and kneaded some FCS putty, and then local vet Burt walked over and sealed it with some packing tape. I thanked him repeatedly. I’m telling you, that’s why I love surfing here. The locals are cool, so long as you know how to share. It made me think about other surf spots, the most crowded ones. Are the lineups that bad or does being a regular make the difference? It should, right? Like, I can’t just paddle out at Malibu and expect to get waves. I don’t surf there, but I bet that there’s a pack of regulars who acknowledge each other and offer some kind of courtesy. You invest in surf a spot, get your card stamp every time, and after a while with enough validation you get your “free” wave.

     Back on the sand, the lineup was already starting to get packed in front of the tower. It was now 0630. Scattered clouds were stretched out over the horizon, giving the sky a bright pink depth, lightly overcast but still warm. Are these El Nino conditions? I had a moment of gratefulness. Just to see that picturesque sky, you can’t buy that. You gotta be up early. You gotta be here.

     The tide seemed low, but with a 5-foot high tide in a couple hours, I knew that the window would be small. Clean, fast, and racy little peaks were coming in. Unfortunately they didn’t offer much. I pulled in or pumped for a short distance, but even though the surf was small it was nice seeing all the locals out.

     Bri and I paddled through the lineup, caught up with everyone, and gave greetings all around. Bri caught more waves than I did and milked the smaller ones that were more shouldery. Tom came out and did the same.

     Klaude paddled out at about 0800, barebacking it. The south wind was minute but had enough push to create some texture on the water.

     We left at 0820. It was a “whatever” morning that was worth the company more than the waves.

     As usual, cars buzzed around the metered parking looking for spots. A woman asked if we were leaving and then waited for us to change. The overcast still painted the sky pink, a nice break from the relentless sun we’ve had all week, and then we caught a light drizzle on the way home. It was odd but beautiful. It felt like Halloween and pre Thanksgiving. It felt like fall.