MUST HAVE SOUTH FACING, SAT 24MAY2014

Reggae band at Orlando's house. Summertime in the South Bay.

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0930-1030

Crew: Bri, Klaude & Deathwish Dave

Conditions: inconsistent, 1-2 FT

     After a late night of barbecuing with Friends, Bri and I get to the beach late. Klaude is already out there. Immediately, I spot Dave, who had moved to Mississippi, on his longboard.

     There are a lot of people out this morning, and the surf is weak, barely breaking through the high tide.

     Paddling out, I say hi to Dave. Klaude looks at me, throws his hands in the air, the universal sign for: where have you been? But he says that Bri and I haven’t missed out on much.

     Conditions are good, but size and power is nonexistent. I need a longboard or a fish at least. Klaude leaves right away. I force a few ugly turns. Dave follows Klaude. Other people are clearing out of the water too, shaking their heads in disgust, for this is the summer. The South Bay isn’t getting the south swell. Sadly, it’s time to hit the road for south-facing breaks. 

A RETURN TO SANTA MONICA, FRI 23MAY2014

Loc: Santa Monica

Time: 0700-0800

Crew: Rick and Manny

Conditions: onshore, inconsistent, 1-3 FT

     When I had first started learning how to surf on a funboard, my training ground was at Bay Street in Santa Monica. At the time, it was the perfect wave. Not big and consistent like Porto, it was a spot where I could actually make it out. Somewhere along the journey of progression, Bay Street began to look small to me. Many dawn patrols there resulted in driving back to the El Porto lot, turning my quarters, that had the intention of serving Santa Monica, into traitors.

     So now Rick has us meeting his brother Manny at Santa Monica, in hopes that the surf here is picking up a little bit of the south-swell angle.

     I always have a little anxiety in surfing new or unfamiliar spots. Porto has its locals, and this place does too. Different cars, different faces. We receive some glares as we pull up in Rick’s van, but as soon as he steps out, one of the guys already there starts talking to him. Another guy, on foot on a dawn patrol, also stops to talk to Rick—old high school buddies. And then I realize just how much Rick truly is a Venice veteran. All over the South Bay, he knows everyone.

     We spot Manny in the crowded lineup. It’s not too crowded, but for the few peaks breaking it is. The light onshore wind puts a sheet of texture on the water. The peaks are long with mooshy shoulders slowly rolling to the shore in spilling whitewash. But some of the surfers shred the little shoulders. Rick leaves to Costa Rica tonight, so small or not, we’re paddling out.

     Once we do, the crowd leaves. Manny says that it was better earlier. The lowering tide isn’t helping. All my rides are closeouts. My Motorboat Too is no match for the mulchy surf. We’re done in an hour.

     Rick suggests some Mexican food for breakfast, so we all meet up at Gilbert’s El Indio on Pico Boulevard. It’s my first time here. I’d equate this place with the Mexican version of an American diner. There are pictures of customers pinned up on the wall. The booths are made of woodgrain. Best of all, the breakfast meals are seven bucks, and that’s with coffee or tea.

     “It’s cash only,” says Manny.

     I sweat, thinking about how I only have my credit card on me.

     “Don’t worry, Matt,” says Manny. “You’re not paying for anything. You just graduated.”

     “Yeah,” says Rick.

     And then they order a round of Bohemia beers . . . at 0830 in the morning. I can’t remember the last time I drank this early. 

WHEN THE WIND IS GOOD, THU 22MAY2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0745-1045

Conditions: light onshore, consistent, 2-3 FT

     I stand, sheepish, overwatching this morning’s surf. It’s that kind of morning, a morning when turning around and going straight home is feasible.

     Shan shows up. The peaks are small and drowned out by the tide. Plus it’s crowded. Everyone’s swarmed around the take-off points like ants congregated around dropped food. But the waves are rideable. Guys are out there getting good carves, milking the foamy waves all the way to shore, sticking their finishing maneuvers.

     I wonder what it would take to get my fair share of waves on a morning like this. I’d have to be a good local—smile and say good morning to all the veterans. But this is the South Bay, and when it comes to surfing, in general, there are so many egos involved that one must be “accepted” before being allowed to even say “good morning” to another surfer, especially if he’s a regular.

     We take our time changing and getting to the water. There’s no rush since the tide’s high. An hour into the session, the crowd starts to clear out. I get a few single-turn waves. The tide begins to drop, which makes the waves stand up more. And now most of the crowd is gone. I have my favorite local break all to myself. Even though the shape isn’t that great, the wind is still good, and how often do I get to surf this spot without a crowd anyway? Never. So when the conditions are good and the crowd is sparse, you have to make the call to extend the session, you have to STAY.