YOUR BOY IS BACK

0ct. 3^rd, 2019: The Good News…

Good for who, I don’t know. No…I’m here writing again, so here it goes. After being sick for about a week, I’ve felt like ass. Inactivity, sitting around sucking soup and tea, and simply not surfing or exercising just made me feel weaker overall. This morning, marking my first day that I felt well enough to surf, I finally went for a surf check on the second shift.

            Dawn patrol would’ve been first shift, but I get off work too late for that. Slightly dizzy from last night’s NyQuil, I watched my wife leave the apartment at about 0740, sipped my coffee, took a shit, and then hit the door.

            The weather was absolutely gorgeous: clear skies, offshore wind, clean and groomed ocean lines, and a weak weekday crowd (I hate crowds). I debated on my favorite free parking area for Porto but instead chose to part near Rosecrans at the end of the lot.

            The surf was overall small and breaking close to shore. I missed the early morning window with the lower tide, but even with it rising, occasional peaks sprouted, offering shoulders for some short rides.

            At first I debated on “fishing it” but decided on the Catch Surf Skipper, which has been my ultimate board choice as of late. It’s awesome in sub stellar conditions and still fun when the surf is good, just don’t expect any hard rail-to-rail carves.

            I put on the full suit to ease my way back into the surfing norm, especially since I’m getting over the flu/cold (not sure). Instantly when my face submerged with my first duckdive, I felt like my day had a purpose; my day is not wasted. That was my mantra. The day is not wasted.

            The lack of crowd made it easy to catch waves, but I felt weak. I forgot how much paddling, turning and going at the last second really takes out of you. It had been a while, so I was rusty. Still, with the smooth, slow speed of a manatee, I timed my waves well and managed to get down the line. Some of the beefier waves stood up, offering more sections and shoulders to pump down. I check turned on a few faces to wait for more shape and did some front side snaps, which on this board was more like kisses off the curling lip, pushing my nose back down for easy reentries.

            I felt like I had a purpose. Surfing gives me a purpose. I love it. Is that sad? I don’t think so. The high, the natural high I get, even off of small waves like today, what can I compare it to? I imagine the early-morning runner who hits the trail/street/track at dawn before no one is out, breathing in rhythm to his footsteps, smiling. Maybe something like that. Even with fellow surfers around, I didn’t feel invaded. I was right in my comfort zone.

            An hour later, pulling out my earplugs on the sand was like a reward. To hear the ocean, the waves, the birds, and even the warm, glowing atmospheric buzz of a good day, I knew I had started the day right. Walking back to my car I felt so accomplished. My day wasn’t wasted. My day was not wasted. I have a purpose. I love surfing. So important to start the day this way. I’ll do this for as long as I can.

2016 #1

            I’ve been out of the groove for a while. Mostly because of looking for jobs after my summer trip to Indo, working odd jobs, finally getting hired for a major airline company, and also getting a part time job as an editor for a book publishing company. The days of fudging off at Churches for “staycations” have come to a halt but hopefully not permanently. In June, I’ll be able to swap shifts and have more flexibility in my time.

            I think I took a lot of things for granted. On the other side of that coin, I can also say that I was enjoying life and having fun flying by the seat of my pants, and even though I have two part time jobs, three if you count the military, I still kind of am flying by the seat of my pants. But I have to be wiser in how I do so. I can’t just take off down south for waves if I work that day. And if I’m backed up in my editing work, then chances are I’ll be surfing close to home or maybe won’t surf at all if the waves don’t look worthy.

            Being a husband has also changed things a little. I’m a selfish bastard, but I have to tone down on that as well. “Happy wife, happy life,” as my best friend said. “And then they still aren’t happy.” That last one was from my friend Jonathan.

            I still surf. I surfed local this morning at 42^nd St. with my other surf mentor Gary. Even though the cams showed the waves looking awfully swampy with a rising tide, three-feet max, I still held my commitment and went for it.

            Yeah, I got snaked by Tony, the guy who got beaten up in the famous Porto parking lot fight video. Yeah, the waves were so soft that I couldn’t get a turn in. But I was there with a friend. My waves were pumpy before turning soft serve, but I was there period. I’d compare a morning session to jumping in a pool on a cold day, except you’re doing it in the ocean. That’s how the first duck dive feels to me. Why would anyone want to do such a thing? Because regardless of all the changes in my life, in the water is still the best place to start my day.

PABS PADDLE OUT, SAT16FEB2013 MOR

 

Loc: Bolsa Chica

Crew: KK & Hideki

Conditions: 1-2 FT, sunny, warm, offshore, mellow, fun.

     Surfing Grandma of the OC was nice enough to put together a Paddle Out for our fellow surf blogger and friend, Pablo Koontz, who passed away recently. The surf conditions weren’t going to be an issue, for the day is all about paying respects to Pabs. When Klaude arrives, he’s already brought some flowers for the paddle out. We stop at Dough Boy Donuts in El Segundo, and I spring for the donuts that are going to contribute to the event’s refreshments. Other surf bloggers that we only know via comments and sharing each other’s surfing through the web are going to be there. Klaude’s already been going through an emotional rollercoaster, having recently attended a funeral. We converse on the way there on how life is short, probably the similar type of conversation that sprouts when someone passes away. Oh, how we’ve all vowed to live differently, to once again get caught up in the tidal wave of life. I have friends that I haven’t seen in a while. I guess I’ve been caught up in my own thing, but who isn’t?

    

     When we pull up to tower 27, we can already see an easel with Pabs’ picture on it. Cars are congregated there, and I already recognize Surfing Grandma of the OC. She watches us back into our spot, so I assume she knows it’s us too.

     We park, get out, and meet in person for the first time. (I’m leaving out real names). SG, Surf Mama, Brownie, Goofy Kook, and Surfsister are the first people we meet, and . . . now when I think of it, I must have looked like a fool saying, “Hi, I’m, uh . . . Donny Duckbutter. . . .” Anyway, I can’t even begin to say how awesome it is to finally meet everyone in person and to still feel like we know each other, just through the writing, even more so than the pictures. So . . . is it really that surprising to be here, for a surf blogger that we never met in person? Absolutely not. We are all part of not only the surf community but the California surf-blogging community as well, even though it may be just a small fraction of it. But I’ve followed GK enough to know where he surfs and how he was working his way through an injury not too long ago. As far as SG, she was there for me when I went through my last break up, and PABS . . . I swear he was right there along with me too during my adventures in Bali too, giving me some uplifting advice whenever I was down on myself for wiping out or not getting barreled. I wish I had a chance to surf with him; but I’m grateful enough to be a part of this today.

     Donuts . . . fuck . . . I should’ve brought something else. Even some McDonald’s Egg McMuffins, anything but donuts. There are five boxes of donuts at the refreshment table that SG had set up. Hideki comes out of the water and joins us as well as the rest of the people showing up for the occasion too. There are close to twenty of us, an intimate group.

     Despite the small surf, the wind is offshore, and the surf looks rideable enough to be fun, especially since Klaude, Hideki, and I are the only maroons without longboards.

#

     SG gives a beautiful speech before we paddle out which just grounds me; I mean really brings me back to reality. Here we are gathered for Pabs, to do the very thing that he loved to do.

     Just gone too soon. He wasn’t that old. It’s a privilege to be all united but under such circumstances. Bitter sweet, we make the best of it, and under SG’s eloquent words I know that on this morning I’m part of something special.

    

     I’ve never been part of a paddle out before. We all hit the water, flower’s clenched in our teeth. It’s a semi crowded morning. We draw attention, naturally. It’s not every day that you see such a diverse group of surfers paddling out to make a circle. It’s a beautiful moment. I’m so caught up in my thoughts that all I remember is tossing the flower in the middle and then splashing the water. Pabs, we’ll miss you, buddy.

     Since I know that I don’t have enough board for any of these waves, I just dart for the inside alone. Immediately I catch a little inside, two footer, falling when I try to walk the nose. I paddle back out, do it again. I see Klaude looking back at me. A set wave comes, and this guy Brownie, catches it right on the shoulder. It’s close to three feet, long, and a little walled, but he’s just in the perfect spot. From there, the rest of our group goes off. I can’t even remember how many waves Goofy Kook catches. He’s tall and lanky by the way. His long ass arms just get him into any wave he wants. Surfsister and Surf Mama start taking over too, leaving KK, Hideki, and I on much shorter rides. We go for everything, closeouts, doesn’t matter. It’s all for Pabs.

     One of those set waves comes my way. Surfing Grandma of the OC is paddling out. She can turn around and catch it if she wants, but she looks at me and says, “Go for it.” I can’t make the section to get to the open face, but it’s still a fun ride, and I’m grateful for her generosity.

     A little after an hour, people start going in. I wouldn’t mind staying out a little while longer, but the tide’s coming up anyway, and I’d hate to miss any goodbyes if people are taking off. We head back to the wagon and change. There are so many donuts that we all start asking any bikers or joggers if they want any. In essence, our circle that we paddled out with becomes a bigger circle, celebrating Pab’s life with friendly strangers. Some of them are nice enough to acknowledge his picture on the mural.

     At the end of the get together, I can only eat so many donuts and cookies and drink so much coffee. We give away all we can, and I still end up bringing home more donuts that I brought. We say our farewells with the assurance of surfing together again soon.

     To Pabs: Thank you for your inspiration, buddy. We’ll miss you.