Wed., Oct. 30th, 2019: Red Flag Sessions #5 & #6

Loc: El Porto, north of 45^th St.

Conditions: offshore, dumpy, 2 Ft.

Board: Catch Surf Skipper

            Last Friday I actually trunked it. Same spot and everything from the session before. Because of the Santa Anas and the recent warmth in water temp, I thought I’d be safe in boardshorts.

            I paddled out and felt like a G for the first half hour. For the next half hour I felt like a G string. I was fucking cold. Man, yeah, it’s not the time for trunks, but I still milked the tail end of that little combo swell we had and made the best of it. I didn’t get any barrels, just pulling in and practicing for the real deal.

            Yesterday I hit the surf, same spot at about 0800. I surfed for about an hour, once again, this time in a full suit, and…it really wasn’t that great. The offshores were still here, but the NW swell was just weak sauce. Also, every foamie and longboarder was back on it as if it were summer again. I couldn’t believe how packed it was. Regardless, I got one take-home wave that really made the session. It was a set wave that popped out of nowhere, and it actually had a nice, tapered shoulder on it. I paddled in, bottom turned, and two-hand stalled right away on my forehand. In my peripheral I saw some longboarders going for the shoulder, but I had to hope that they saw me first.

            I stalled and waited for the lip to curl. I was in there. It was like slow motion, the wave felt like it lasted even though it had to have only been a few seconds, but I was in there, in the small curl getting shampoo coverup. Then came the moment when I should doggy-door it, but I chose to hang on until oblivion.

            When I churned up on the inside, I saw the longboarders had long backed off on the wave. I’m glad there were no accidents and that I didn’t get snaked.

            At the end, at the showers, even though I didn’t know anyone, I had some nice little conversations in passing. Everyone, people, even me, we’re all just out here trying to get “ours” on a weekday. Despite the lackluster surf, we still want it; we still want to get wet.

Thu., Oct. 24th, 2019: Red Flag Sessions #4

Loc: El Porto, north of 45^th St.

Time: 0930-1130

Conditions: offshore, fast, dumpy, 2-3 Ft.

Board: Catch Surf Skipper

            I waited a little bit later to catch the tide on the way down. Since I’d be starting later, I didn’t expect to find any street parking near 26^th St., so I changed things up and headed to 45^th St.

            It was another day of awesome conditions, Vegas meets the sea, just dry heat and very sunny and glassy. I hadn’t surfed 45^th in a while, and I forgot how the El Porto lot is usually the first option for surfers. Everyone was out. For a weekday, I don’t know if people are unemployed or not, the lineup was packed. From 45^th on southwards was nothing but bobbing bodies. A ton of longboarders were out, chicks in bikinis, a few guys trunking it. I chose my spring suit, and to me that felt just right.

            I first paddled out in a little hole just north of 45^th. There were waves there, but they were on the fast and dumpy side, typical as of late. The longboarders around me were mostly going straight. I started pulling in to work on some barrel practice.

            More north towards the smoke stacks, I saw some guys getting longer legit rides. Once a longboard couple paddled out right next to me, I paddled more north. A few other people cleared out, and then I had the place to myself for the majority of my session.

            Even though the swell was trending down, there were still waves. A few set waves broke at about four feet. A lot of the guys near me were docile. They didn’t want to go too late because it was dumpy, yet they were trying to get into the waves too early and kept scratching out.

            I scratched hard on the Skipper, and that thing is pretty good at catching waves, even at 5’6, so I was having a legit buffet.

            Things to note? Well, I didn’t make it out of any barrels. There was a left that I should have made it out of, similar to the day prior, but I still got the green-room view on a lot of my rides. It would have been a great feat. to get a clean in and out or even a doggy door barrel. It was fast. And yet, every time I looked towards 45^th and saw the lefts breaking, I could see clearly that there were waves where one could get “slotted.” I wasn’t sure if it was just a mirage effect. Were the waves in my spot breaking just as clean with good shape?

            I got good backhand practice, but I still can’t get my technique dialed in. Not sure if I should stall with my arm behind me or ride it out with my forearm in front of me, more focused on covering distance. Also, it’s a lot harder for me to start out standing and then crouching down on my backhand. I tend to end up pushing my board into the wave. Like I said, I have a lot to learn still.

            I could’ve stayed out all day. Hours later, my wife would even hit Rosecrans after work, on the very same Skipper, and catch some waves in hot, offshore conditions.

            Now on this very Friday morning, I’ve already eaten breakfast, watched my NBA game recaps, did some dishes, and caught up with this blog. Surfline is calling the swell at 1-2 ft., and yet when I saw the wave cam about an hour ago, the waves looked fun to me. I’m about to take a fat ass shit and feed my addiction once more.

Wed., Oct. 23rd, 2019: Red Flag Sessions #3

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th St.

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 29^th 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.

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.