Crew: Bri, Jonathan
M, CC, Cheryl, Klaude
Time: 0800-1000
Conditions:
2-3 FT+, overcast, cold, inconsistent, occasional walls.
“I used to
surf”:
I forgot where I heard this, but someone
said, “If you say, ‘you used to surf,’ then you never really surfed at all.”
Mind you, I’m aware of the exceptions, God forbid someone sustain a
life-changing injury, forcing someone to never surf again, maybe even a career
move away from the ocean; that can’t be helped.
I don’t want to call myself a surf vet, but
I’ve surfed long enough to lose some surfing buddies, or to at least see them
come and go because it was just a “phase” to them. I’ve had friends surf for
the wrong reasons too, like image for example. For them, it was “fuck fundamentals,
I just want to rip.” And then they went straight to the shortboard, barely able
to duckdive or turn, lucky if they could go straight. Some friends thought
surfing was actually easy and quit after a short-lived experience. Some just
flake-out and shoot a text now and then asking where I’ll be surfing “tomorrow,”
and of course, they never show up. I’m paraphrasing my friend Klaude here, but
he put it in simple terms:
Basically,
if you do “surf,” then we’ll see you in the water no matter what. There’s no
need to plan an event in advance or even make a phone call. The act of surfing
itself will see to it that your connections stay strong, but if you don’t show
up . . . then we’ll never see each other.
I also read an article in a surf magazine
how marriage is a huge career ender for surfers. I have this friend that I used
to surf with religiously; he even ripped harder than I. We actually started the
DRC surf group together with Cheryl. He did everything: martial arts, fencing,
boxing, surfing, and weight lifting, and then . . . he got married.
#
Briana and I wake up a little earlier to
hit the surf. If anything, I really need to get some face time with Klaude
since we missed him yesterday. My friend Jon that I haven’t surfed with in over
a year called me last night too, said he wanted to get some surf in before
work.
I find free parking on Highland Ave. It’s a
little walk to 26th, but it’s manageable. Cheryl’s supposed to be coming
today, so I bring the DK out one more time along with the board bag it came in.
Before Bri and I leave, I see that Jon texted me. He said he’s waiting in the
lot. I shoot him a text back, telling him that I’ll meet him by the tower.
#
On the way down the hill, we spot KK with a
friend I’ve never met before. I sneak up on him on the sand. He’s teaching his
friend Leslie how to surf today, so he’s got his instructor hat on.
“I seen Jon in the parking lot,” he says.
“What, parking lot? He’s not coming down?”
“No,” he laughs, “he said he’s waiting for
you.”
“Wut?! You gotta be kidding me. I told him
just to get his ass down here. I ain’t going back there.”
KK keeps laughing. “I don’t know . . .
maybe you should.”
I walk back up to the lot, but Jon’s not
there. I spot his car but no Jon. I return to the tower, and I spot him just
south of it in the lineup.
He can’t fit into his wetsuit anymore, so
if he wants to surf, he needs to start coming out while the weather’s still
warm. He’s wearing trunks and the O’Neill rashguard I bought him for his
birthday . . . two years ago?
Bri and I paddle up to him. KK chooses to
go more north to another peak.
Jon and I surfed Porto when we were barneys.
It was a big west swell. I couldn’t even make it out, but he did. He wiped out
on a set wave and almost drowned. In fact he shaved his head that same day. For
him it was a life changing experience.
It’s an overcast, foggy morning, similar to
the day I mentioned above. I’m watching Jon on the 6’6 Merrick MB that I sold
him for $100. It’s a thick, meaty board. I’m stoked to see him catch some
waves. His instincts are still there, paddling with good timing, but he’s a
little slow standing up . . . naturally.
I introduce him to Bri.
“Yeah,” says Jon, “it’s pretty fun out
here. Lucky it’s small so it’s not too hard for me.”
We laugh. I show him Cheryl’s fish and tell
him about my recent revelation about fish boards. He brings up his old Simon
Anderson Fish that he used to have, the one that buckled right here at 26th
on a big day when I was in Iraq.
“I have to work on Saturdays,” he says, “but
I’m working on this project right now, but it’s not ‘til later, so I can paddle
out early on Sundays.”
We exchange waves. It’s not standing up as
much as yesterday. I can’t even see Klaude anymore, and none of the other boys
are around. I either scratch out or go straight. Briana sits more towards the
inside. She turns and paddles into a little two-footer. It doesn’t have much
shape, but she takes it all the way to shore. We both watch her. Jon turns to
me and says, “Hey, she’s pretty good, huh?”
“Yeah, she’s learning pretty fast.”
“Well, I gotta catch one in.” He catches a
wave to shore, walks to dry sand, and then he turns around and waves. It’s the
same smile he had years ago, just on a different face and a different body. I
wave back. He turns and disappears into the fog like an apparition.
#
Bri and I paddle north, more towards the
tower. We see Klaude. He’s teaching his friend at a crowded peak. Bri and I
maintain our spot. Within minutes, Cheryl and CC show up. They stretch on the sand
for a while before paddling out. Finally, Bri and Cheryl get to meet.
“Jon was here,” I say to Cheryl.
“Awwww, when did he leave?”
“Maybe like fifteen minutes ago.”
“Awwww. Hopefully I’ll catch him next time.”
Right after they show up, Klaude leaves. With
the rising tide, the waves get a little bigger but walled. I have trouble
finding anything with shape, so I pull out of a lot of waves. CC on the other
hand . . . man, she’s like reborn or something. I don’t know if it was her
travels around the globe this past summer, but she’s charging hard. Even on the
nasty closeouts, she’s going for them. I’m stoked to bring Briana into our surf
group, especially around the female side of it. CC brings positive energy,
hooting us on all of our waves, whether we eat shit or not.
The conditions get a little sketchy for
Bri. She waits for me on the sand. I say my goodbyes to Cheryl and CC. On the
sand, I leave the DK Fish in its boardbag for Cheryl to take home, but I don’t
realize that I leave my sandwich bag with all my wax in it.
#
This time, I take Bri to Mandy’s in El
Segundo for breakfast. Again, everything looks good. We split some pancakes and
order some skillet dishes. As usual, the customer service is on point, making
sure that our water and coffee never get low. It’s a nice way to end a session
and a weekend of surfing. Tomorrow it’s back to business.
