DIFFERENT TERRITORY, SUN 23MAR2014

Loc: HB Pier (north side)

Crew: Bri, Hideki

Time: 0700-0900

Conditions: 1-3 FT, overcast, inconsistent

     I haven’t renewed my state-parking pass because it costs around two-hundred bucks, so instead of surfing my favorite HB break, Bri and I meet with the homie Hideki and his HB crew.

     Surfline says that the surf will be 2-3 Fair, but driving towards the pier, the ocean is a God damn lake.

     When Bri and I reach the water, the lineup is packed. Hideki waves. We wave back. His crew here is thick, and they all surf here consistently, all ten of them.

     Aside from them, there are the other regulars, sitting shoulder to shoulder.

     It’s so crowded that it throws me off. I don’t like surfing in crowds. I wait for tensions to flare, but they don’t. If the lineup were this crowded in the South Bay, there would be an altercation, but everyone here is cool. It’s actually refreshing, that despite the close quarters the energy here is good.

     As far as surf goes, Bri wins today’s heat, getting most of the waves. Most of my session is spent sitting and scratching out, not even getting one turn.

     When’s the last good session I had? It was at PV when that huge storm had hit, but that was so long ago. . .

     I’m hitting my limit, feeling uneasy with the consecutive shitty sessions. It’s time for a power sesh, a really good one with back-to-back waves. I need a day that’s good enough to whip out my Lost Mini Driver again and practice some snaps.

     When we leave after a fruitless paddle out, we go to Sancho’s for breakfast burritos with Hideki and his homies.

     I feel a little uneasy here in the HB scene. Big white guys with piercings and tattoos walk their dogs nearby, and yet, Hideki and his friends are perfectly relaxed. Like my Mandy’s Restaurant in El Segundo, this place is their local spot—they feel right at home. 

THE GUYS WHO ARE GOOD, SAT 22MAR2014

When friends snake friends

Loc: El Porto

Crew: Rick, Gary, John A.

Time: 0730-0900

Conditions: 1-3 FT, onshore, overcast

     I have homies at my favorite local break, but I haven’t seen Rick in a while, so I choose to go to Porto. The lot is only half filled, and it makes sense because the surf is shit.

     It’s an overcast morning, overcast enough that it looks like it might drizzle. The wind is already onshore, and the small peaks are crumbling. But despite the wind and the weather, the small crumbly peaks have shoulders.

     The lineup is a little crowded. There are a lot of longboarders today, usually a sign that the performance surfers will take a lay day today, but even the local celebs are out, like Wagner, local big-wave charger and aerialist. As I had said before, he used to talk to me in the lineup, but he doesn’t even look my way anymore.

     Another local guy, who’s bald-headed with tattoos, snakes him on his Costco foamie. On the way back to the lineup, he looks at Wags, whistling to get his attention. “Every day, my brother,” he says. “Every day.”

     Meanwhile, Wags doesn’t even acknowledge him. He looks like he’s annoyed and hungry for a wave. They split the next peak. The Costco guy comes back and takes another one again, unsharing.

     The encounter reminds me of when I went to Java last summer. I’ll never forget the tension I had felt in the lineup during overhead slabby surf. Guys were smoking cigarettes in the water. I’ve seen some pretty massive egos, and I’m thinking . . . why have one at Porto, especially on a day like this. Why have a nasty ego at all.

     I don’t mad dog the people around me. I don’t even care that most surfers are better than I am. I’m here for the love and stoke for a turn.

     But getting a turn is hard. Rick snakes me on two waves. Yup. Two. He’s the homie though, my surf mentor, and these are mess-around waves anyway, so who cares. I’m stoked to see Rick stoked. 

WHAT GREAT LENGTHS, MON 17MAR2014

Loc: El Porto

Time: 1000-1200

Conditions: 4-5 FT, walled, sunny

     This morning it was onshore and looked like crap. I left, waiting for a better window. So that’s why I’m at Porto, having scored free parking on 45^th. Yes.

     Down below, I can see the slice of ocean that is 45^th, between Chevron and the yuppie beach houses. A surfer on a right glides on a high-tide right towards the inside. The wind has died, giving the ocean glassy perfection. Clever, so clever to have waited for the right window.

     If I’m so clever, why am I struggling to catch my first wave? It turns out that half of the South Bay is clever too. It’s crowded, but the surf is pumping and consistent enough to spread everyone out.

     I miss my first good wave. It’s perfect and punchy, but my paddle is off, and I bury my nose in the water. It’s like hitting the e-brake, and the wave peels off away from me.

     On the next bomb, the face is so choppy that I lose balance. My wide fish works against me, its deck wide like a table top, and every bump on the surface sends me teetering.

     And then it happens. The wind turns onshore, making the walled waves even faster. Some guys are getting decent rides, the smaller ones on the inside are all right. But most of us are dodging the walls, or paddling into them just to go straight. Another surfer looks at me. He slaps the water in disgust from not catching a wave in a while.

     We’re all the same. I’ve been out for nearly two hours, and everyone else has been out here just as long, waiting for that quality ride. What errands or priorities are we all neglecting just to be here? If the surf was good, it wouldn’t be an issue, but right now it sucks. To prevent wasted time, we’re all out here, trying to form a shoulder onto the walls coming for us. And yet, nothing . . . not even one turn.

     My thesis is due on Friday, and I change back at my car on top of 45^th, upset that the window I had chosen was the wrong one.