EVENING RUSH, THU 12APRIL2012 EVE

Crew: Solo

Time: 1830-1945

Conditions: High tide, 3-4 FT, mooshy.

     The thought of an evening session loomed in the back of my mind, but I didn’t plan to take a look. It wasn’t until I was forwarded on an e-mail from Jimmy B. at 1400. He said that Porto actually looked fun, and the wind wasn’t on it yet. Since I was at school, I replied back saying I’d be there in the evening.

     The drive on Vista Del Mar was questionable. From Docweiler to Hammerland, the peaks were small, long, and dribbly. There’s no way that Porto’s working, I thought. Upon descending down 45^th and entering the lot, I was surprised to see some lefts breaking on the inside between 45^th and 42^nd. There was light texture in the water, and the sandbars actually made some waves. What really caught me was a soft, inside left that rolled through the inside unridden. There were only six guys out, and the top of the wave in front of the bathrooms was breaking too.

 

     I slipped on my wetsuit as fast as I could, ran out to the sand, skipped the warm up, and charged through the white wash. The inside had a lot of surface bump, but the texture wasn’t as bad as I thought. By the time I reached the lineup, the wind died even more. My first couple waves were closeouts. Wagner the Christian surfer was on an SUP, but every time he’s out then it must be rideable. After catching a dumpster to the inside, I was paddling back to the lineup with two other surfers. The water was so clear and blue that it looked turquoise. Bubbles and fizz layered over the ocean like a white, marble layer. I couldn’t see the sand underneath or any tell-tale signs that this was Los Angeles—no tampons, plastic wrappers, or any debris. I bobbed from the backwash and humps of incoming waves. With the sun setting in front of me, splashes of salty, cold water on my face, and a sparse crowd of just a few surfers, I couldn’t think of another place I’d rather be.

    

     I haven’t had a high wavecount lately, but I’ve managed to get at least get one good wave on every go out. Back at the lineup, I saw the Porto signature, long, lined-up peak with a little shoulder at the end. Sitting in the right place, I paddled into it just behind the shoulder. It was a bumpy wave, with spooned-out spots on its face that resembled potholes. I pumped down the line, setting myself up for one top-turn to finish.

     In the end I only got one good wave with one good turn but lately that’s been enough.

LITTLE KILLERS, WED 11APRIL2012 MOR

Crew: Solo

Conditions: Low tide, 3-4 FT, consistent, walled, glassy.

Pre Blog:

     After my last session with Rick and Dave, I didn’t expect the surf to be good. Surfline had poor ratings for both Saturday and Sunday. When I got the call from Klaude on Sunday morning, I felt like a piece of shit. I could tell from his voice that he was stoked, and my own grogginess made it obvious that I was skipping that session. The next two days, both Klaude and Rick told me that it was good. I mean, it was small but still good. Consistent, fun, no crowd, small, but rideable. I should’ve put more weight on spending time with a friend than Surfline’s forecast.

Wednesday:

     Aside from missing the weekend surfing, I couldn’t surf on Monday or Tuesday because I was working on my second chapter of a novel for class. Despite my severe writer’s block and life’s distractions, I turned in a mediocre six, single-spaced, pages. I just want to get this semester over, in hopes that I’ll be out of my funk by the summer session.

     I’m looking forward to some surf at Porto, and as I pull in the lot I can see that the conditions are clean for a change. My recent sessions here have had some onshore wind and texture, but there are two problems. One, the tide is low. Two, even though there are waves, they are long and walled. It would be a shoulder hunting session.

     There’s something about Porto lately, either I’m out of shape or the paddle to the lineup has gotten a little further. I guess it’s due to my inconsistency. I get to the lineup at 45^th unmolested, but all the waves I catch are closeouts. The drop is fun. Maybe a pro could pull in for a barrel, but it’s just too fast. On the waves I pass-up, there are white-wash explosions that follow. On one of my closeouts, I catch the foam to the inside just as a set is starting. As I’m making my way out, a long line stands in the foreground of the horizon. I know, four feet’s not big, but on this morning, it’s a little different. The water’s so glassy that the waves are round, dumpy, and heavy. It’s the Porto curse, that it’s cleanest on its dumpiest days. The water looks like a lake up until the wave. It has a smooth, mirror like texture, enveloping over in one big swoosh and kaboom. I duckdive the white wash from the first, but then another one’s right behind it. Because of the low tide, I get snatched up every time I duckdive. Two more waves come, and it’s the same, doing underwater summersaults while clutching my board. It’s been a while since I got a worked, and it’s not even big. Once I make it out of the impact zone, I find myself by the tanks, so I head over to 42^nd.

    

     There’s a light crowd of surfers, but we’re all sitting in the same spot. I let most of the walls pass and take a couple out of boredom. The next left that approaches is another lined wall, but I’m near the very end where it tapers off. I don’t expect much, but I pop up on the quick shoulder and find that it actually has a racy section to work with. I pump, gaining speed, setting myself up to bottom turn and shoot up the lip. The section’s about to close, but I manage to get one good arc off the highline before it dumps. I can’t stress enough how just one good wave with only one turn can turn a shitty session into a good one. I laugh to myself, making my way back out, but the joke’s on me because that’s the first and last legit wave that I catch. 

     I go home with just that one wave under my belt, but it’s better than nothing. It made the session worth it.  

MEH…., FRI 06APRIL2012 MOR

    

Crew: Rick & Dave T.

Time: 0700-0800

Conditions: Inconsistent, high tide, small, mooshy, offshore, 2-3 FT.

     After my first duckdive I realize how cold the water is. The sun is out, but it’s not helping. By the third duckdive, the inside of my left ear aches. I pass Dave on the inside. “What’s up, Dave!”

     He nods and smiles.

     Rick catches a left in front of me. We make eye contact on his way back out. Today’s surf is forecasted to be small. It’s the last of the NW swell, and it’s showing. There are scattered peaks, but they crumble a little fast, causing the small shoulders to run away. The longboarders are paddling in early and getting the longest rides.

     It’s not that crowded, and Rick leads us more towards 42^nd. “Matt,” he says. “I’m not really that stoked on this board.” He holds up his new, yellow fish.

     “Well, maybe you just need to take it out on a good day. Like a consistent three feet at Churches.”

     A wave breaks towards the outside, and I’m the only one in position for it. It’s a left, but the section is too fast for me to beat, so I stay behind it the whole time. Most of my rides are fizzling and straight.

     There are a couple gems, in which Rick is recipient to. He comes back after a ride and says, “Matt, that left I got actually held! I got two hits off of it!” He’s always stoked. He also points to the smoke stacks and says that the wind’s changed; it’s blowing off shore now.

     I see the billows of white smoke blowing out to sea, but I don’t see it helping the surf. When 0900 rolls around, Rick and I are on the sand. “Rick, I think I’m gonna call it.”

     “Nah, Matt. You can’t go now. Look, it’s off shore.”

     I look back out at the same waves with the same shape.

     “The swell’s going,” he continues. “This is it.” He shoves his fish in the sand hand heads back. “I got quarters, Matt.”

     Back at the car, I’m done changing into dry clothes. He and Dave are on the sand. I waive at Rick when he turns around. He waves me forward, motioning for me to get my ass back out there. He gets the message. Dave throws me a peace sign, and they both paddle back out. I’ve had my fair share of mediocre days lately, especially after HB’s skunk session. I’d rather handle some things at the house.

     Back in Lawndale, my inflatable mattress I ordered off of Amazon.com arrives. I’m stoked. I let my ex have the bed, and since then I’ve been sleeping on the floor or on my couch—over five weeks. I spend most of the afternoon reorganizing my room. 

Introducing Smokey the dog. He snores louder than I do.

     Later that night, Rick posts on Facebook that the surf got better after I left. I wonder if I made the right call, but every decision can’t be the right one. All I know is that I’m gonna sleep comfortably for the first time in a long time. My next task at hand is bigger: I need to get used to living with myself again.