SEE YOU LATER, WED 13JUN2012 MOR

Loc: 26th

Crew: Francis

     Tomorrow Francis is leaving to Oahu to relocate. KK is flying to Oahu also for vacation, ten days. On this very morning, it’s my last session with Francis for a while. As behind as I am in school work, I know that I have to push it aside to spend time with my battle buddy. He’s been the most consistent surf buddy that I’ve ever had, never flaking, never making lame excuses, always accountable, always there when he says he’ll be there, and most importantly . . . always stoked to surf. The first time I met him was in April of 2011, the first time I surfed County Line.

     There are those with names and faces who fade away and are forgotten, but Francis seems to leave his imprint wherever he goes. I’ll miss him.

#

     It’s Wednesday morning, and I can’t remember any part of this surf session for the life of me. All I know is that the waves don’t look too good, but we’re not passing it up, not today. We paddle out for a couple hours and make do. I tell him that he’s lucky, about to be in boardshorts weather.

#

     There are so many things that we had planned that we never got to do, like surf other surf spots that I have military access to that I promised to show him. I told him that I’d make time to follow him to surf Pacifica and check out his home town. And then there’s Zenko Sushi in Mission Viejo. We’ve been saying over the past couple of weeks that we’d do one last Bob’s Hawaiian run in Gardena, but we’ve run out of rope. Instead of Bob’s this morning, I suggest just going back to the house to kill whatever’s in the fridge. I forget the reason why, but I have to be home.

     I’m doing minor stuff to take care of the house, while Francis unscrews the single fin off of his board. He also gives me his 4/3 wetsuit since he damn sure won’t be needing it in Oahu. I’ve never owned a 4/3 before, so it should come in handy during the winter. We play a little Modern Warfare 3 to end his stay.

     “Matt,” he says, “I had a little talk with Smokey in the garage. I told him to take care of you.”

     That’s nice of him, I’m thinking. He scrapes all the wax off of his board, shaping it into a dick. It’s not bad, but the balls are a little out of proportion. We take a pic together to make it official. 

     Even though this is goodbye, I can’t help but treat this like it’s just another day, like it’s not the end. Francis says he’s traveled around so much that, instead of “bye,” his attitude is more like, “see you later,” because he knows that he’ll see his friends again. He hops in Nicole’s Kia and pulls out of my driveway. I hold on to Smokey, making sure he doesn’t run out of the gate. He throws me one last shaka from the driver’s seat before driving off.

     I say, “See you later,” as I watch his car disappear. 

FAREWELL TO FRANCIS AND KK B-DAY SESH, SAT 09JUN2012 MOR

Loc: 26th

Crew: Klaude, Khang, Francis, Nicky, CC, Apolla & Cheryl (sand detail)

Time: 0630-0930, 3 hrs

Conditions: 3-4 FT, consistent enough, crowded but manageable, light onshore, south current.

     There are a couple things going on today. It’s Klaude’s birthday and on top of that, Francis is leaving to Oahu on Thursday. It’s the last weekend surf sesh that we’ll have with Francis in a while, but also . . . we’re trying to have the first DRC group session in a long time. Last night I sent a text out to CC and Cheryl to let them know, and I think I’m not the only one that did. Rain or shine, swell or no swell, sometimes friendships are defined just by showing up.

First Light:

     I slept for about five hours. For me this is decent, but I still wake up tired. I hit the snooze button once. 0545 my alarm goes off again. I have to wake up, no excuses today. If there’s any day to force myself up it’s today.

     I brush my teeth, grab my gear, and warm up the car. Just as I get on the 405N onramp, Francis shoots me a text. They’re already on Vista Del Mar. Even though we show up earlier than usual, parking already sucks balls. I loop around Parks a couple times before giving up. On the way back up Highland, I see Klaude’s bangbus doing the same. I score parking just south of 26^th up the hill. The waves are breaking in front of me, down the street. It’s not impressive. I have both the JS and the Tokoro. The last thing I want is a session where I’m undergunned, scraping for dribblers. I get a call from Francis.

     “Where are you?” he asks.

     “I’m just south of 26^th a little up the hill.”

     “Oh . . . we’re just above 26^th. There’s an empty parking spot if you want it.”

     Even though I’m already settled into a spot, I figure it will be a good idea to park next to the group. We can suit up together and get some pre-surf bullshit out of the way before getting wet, but when I head up the hill the guys are already walking down. I find the bangbus but the empty parking spot is a no parking zone. I’m farther away from where I was earlier, but I find another spot close by.

     I’m trotting down the hill, trying to catch up. When I get to the sand, Nicky’s the only one left stretching. I sneak up behind him and poke him in the butt with the nose of my board. I can’t remember the last time I surfed with him, let alone seen him. He says he’s been living the frugal life up north, sleeping in Golden State Park and staying with strangers that take him in. “No phone, no internet, no Facebook,” he says.

     I tell him I commend his way of living. It’s not easy to strip down to the bare essentials, especially nowadays. I lost my phone a couple months ago and it was damn near the end of the world. As they say: The more things you own, the more they start to own you.

    

BLOG INCERPT:

     It is now June 30^th. I’ve been so busy with school this summer semester that I’ve fell behind on my surf blogs. Every blog post up to June 30^th will severely test my memory. Please excuse my brevity and memory lapses.

CONT. . .

     Klaude and Francis are already in the lineup. Nicky and I follow behind. Just as we get to the lineup, Khang approaches from the south. So there we are; it’s a rare occasion: five surf marauders together to celebrate Francis and KK.

     I’m lagging. I’m on the Tokoro, eager for a wave, but everyone else has a wave under his belt. I tell myself that it’s not about me or my surfing today and that it’s just about being here.

     The current takes us further north. Right now as I’m writing this, I can’t remember any waves that I got, but here’s what I can recall. Khang complains about the twin-fin he’s using. He’s dying to get back on a thruster. On the inside, I see him catch a right, but there’s a frustrated look on his face. KK gets a left that I completely miss. I never see it from behind the wave, but I believe it’s his wave of the day.

     Towards the end of the session, we spot CC and Apolla in the water. It’s obvious because they are wearing matching wetsuits. CC is on her fish and Apolla is on a medium board, similar to the size of my old Becker, but hers is much cleaner. CC says her shoulder’s still messed up, but that she wants to get a session in regardless. She and Apolla get a little worked towards the inside. Within an hour of seeing them, the boys are ready to call the session, of course, not without commentary on the wave of the day.

     We’re searching for our final waves to wake us in. Nicky finds himself in perfect position for a left that just comes his way. He paddles into it, and over the back of the wave, we can see his arms held out in front of him as he makes his way down the line. There’s nothing fancy about this wave, but it’s just the pure enjoyment and stoke he has which reflects in the way he rides it. He trims, pumps, and holds the line over the shoulder, staying in the pocket. His face is all intense concentration, puffing his cheeks, keeping an eye on the shape. He’s catching the damn thing all the way to the shallow sand.

The Blue Butterfly:

     On our way back to the showers, we spot Cheryl lying on the sand. She’s in her gardener hat and sweats. We all give her a hug and say hi. The plan is to meet somewhere for breakfast, but we are having problems agreeing on where to go.

     “Let’s just go to Blue Butterfly,” says Francis. I know seating is kind of cramped in there, and we do have a large party. I let go of my doubts which are part of my control freak personality, change, and head over to meet everyone else.

     Cheryl and I secure two tables in the back. When everyone shows up and orders, no one is disappointed in his meal. The bagels are clean, and the fruit on the side is a nice touch. Klaude likes the coffee which is a good thing because he’s a man of fine tastes. So the Saturday surf session is a success. It’s Francis’ last weekend for a while. I think that’s what I’m the most bummed out about, but we get to hang out with him before he leaves. Live in the moment. 

Bday at Metro:

     In the early evening, I’m heading towards Metro Café. I’m wearing my best shirt, which is my purple Hurley, long sleeved, button-up that was my Bali staple. I’m about to park when Francis calls and asks me to pick him up. Klaude has a big table of his closest friends, just a select group. I people watch, mingle, and observe Klaude’s unique and exclusive circle; we all have exclusive circles, and I’m glad to be in his. 

     There is a couple that is part of the dinner party, and Klaude’s other friend talks about how he’s engaged and how his fiancée can’t be there. For a moment the theme switches to “relationships.” It bums me out, bringing back memories of my ex, and the life that I used to have. In the midst of this celebration I start spiraling down the shit hole. Stay in the moment.

     KK gives a nice speech, thanking everyone for coming. He has a good family dynamic, one that I’ve never had, not quite like this at least. It’s truly special. He grabs my gift which has penis art drawn all over it.

     Nicole picks up Francis, and then I drive home when the party is officially over. It’s a nice night. The freeway lamps over 405S shine through my sunroof, illuminating my inner surroundings before leaving and returning it to darkness and then repeating again. My car moves forward with a little bit of light and a little bit of dark. I drive through them both.

    

TOKORO, FRI 08JUN2012 MOR

Loc: 26th

Crew: Khang & Francis

Time: 0700-0930, 2.5 hrs.

Conditions: 3 FT, inconsistent, crowded, light onshore, south current.

    

EUOLOGY:

     Since Francis is moving back to Oahu, he already shipped his truck. Without a ride, I offered to pick him up for Friday’s session. The plan was to surf at first light, but realistically, I told him I’d pick him up six, six-thirty.

     To make things easier on myself, I prepped my gear the night before. After I loaded up my wetsuit and towel, I grabbed my 6’1 DMS. When I picked it up, water started dripping down my leg. Its weight was still off. Upon examining where the water came from, I noticed that both sides of the board were cracked on top of the deck, from the rail working inward in a perpendicular line. The cracks were deep, all the way to the fiber glass. Water dripped out every time I tilted the board. I took it outside and laid it on the driveway in disbelief. It's the same board that my brother gave me about five years ago. He was over the board. I was a serious barney back then, riding the 7’10 NSP, the one with gay ass flames on it. “Just keep it around,” said Randy, “use it as motivation for something to work up to.” When my medium board, the Becker, had a ding, I rode the DMS for my first time. I thought I was a legit shortboarder. I took it to Porto, not being able to turn on it, thinking I was surfing when all I was doing was standing. Only now, years later have I finally got to the point where I feel comfortable on the DMS, and last night in the driveway it sat, laid out, like a wounded comrade. The lamination on the deck was already loose, a goner. I rode it to its last leg. It must’ve been that wipeout that I took yesterday where the wave bottomed out. I’m a sentimental sucker who puts sentimental value on things that may not be worth much to others. For me, it wasn’t only my first shortboard, but a board given to me by my surf hero. It will be missed.

     It’s the end of the DMS era. Now enter the 6’0 Tokoro.

NATURE’S GEL:

     It’s 0600. I have to get up. Since my car’s already packed, I brush my teeth and head out the door. There’s no traffic on 405 N yet. I exit Washington and head to Charnock to pick up Francis. From there I hit 90W, missing the left turn on Culver, circling back, and finally making the drive down Vista Del Mar. The view over Dockweiler doesn’t look promising. The waves look small and crumbly, but we’re hoping that 26^th looks better.

     When we pull up to the meters, Khang’s already there with an empty spot next to him. It’s the last Friday session that we’ll have with Francis for a while, so I snap a pic. We have a solid hour before the meter maids come, so we waste no time and head to the sand. 

     The main peak is working, but we head a little north where two more peaks offer a left and a right, so we decide to paddle out in between both of them. I take a piss in my wetsuit while we’re warming up. Since Khang detests pissing in your wetsuit (because he thinks it’s gross), I pull the neoprene away from my ankle and say, “Khang, look!”

     “Illll,” he says as he gives me a sour look of disapproval.

     “What, you think it’s nasty? You think this is nasty?” I cup my piss in my hand and start rubbing it in my hair. “Do you think I can get a sidecomb?” I start parting it.

     “Dude, you’re fuckin’ gross.”

     Francis is laughing so hard he can’t speak.

     I collect piss from my other leg, making my hair even more wet. “I’m gonna put some in your hair,” I say. I jump towards Khang, but he takes off.

MOTIVATION:

     I posted the pic of my broken board on Facebook. My brother emailed me, and said, “I knew it!” What he means is he asked me to sell his boards for him since he moved to Bali. I told him that I found buyers for them, but I never told him that I was the buyer. You see, when I told him I was interested in them, he said that they were too advanced for me, too high performance. He gave me the name of a shaper in HB and recommended for me to get something wider and thicker that would be easier for my level of paddling. No matter what, to him . . . I’ll never be good enough.

    

TEST RUN:

     The three of us paddle out. The Tokoro definitely chippier than the DMS. I feel my body sinking the lighter volume a little more, but still, my paddling feels good on it, and I feel like I’m cutting through the water.

     I’m anxious to catch a wave. The first left I get doesn’t give me much of a face. I pop up, and go down the line for a little trim before the ride ends.

     Meanwhile, Francis and Khang are getting some rides. Ross, the local vet, breaks the fins loose on one of his turns, showing his whole board at the twelve o’clock position over the lip. We see this from the lineup, behind the wave. Just then, an outside wave forms, and I paddle in going left. The face is open leaving a long section in front of me. I pump, get a good bottom turn, and check-turn off the lip. I feel fast, it’s loose. I pump again and set up for a carving arc on the shoulder where the wave ends. Two turns on the Tokoro, not bad.

     I paddle back to the lineup stoked, grinning hard. I wondered if this board would be too small for me. My question just got answered. As I paddle by Ross I say, “Hey that was a nice turn you got back there.”

     He smiles. “Thanks, you got a good wave too!”

     I like how the veteran rippers out here are so mellow and easy going; it’s one of the things that make this spot special.

     I get my first right on the Tokoro, and this is where things get challenging. The board feels so squirrely that on my backside, I’m really cautious not to fall, so I fail to loosen up. I still bottom turn and hit the lip, but I look like the Tin Man on it, too stiff. This is still going to take some practice.

SUP LAND:

     Khang and I go in to feed the meters. I put in two more hours and change into my trunks and jacket. Just as I’m about to head out, Shan pulls into the parking lot. I tell him that we’ll be just north of 26^th.

     For the second session, the waves go inconsistent. I spend the whole time trying to reduplicate that left I got earlier, but it’s turning into a monkey hunt. Khang leaves, and the current takes Francis and me near Rosecrans, where the crowd gets thick again. We never bump into Shan. We try to work our way south where a school of SUP guys are surfing. There are waves to be had, but every time I’m in position, an SUP guy is on it. I paddle to the outside, hoping to get priority, but they paddle in so early that there’s no way in competing with them. We paddle all the way back to 26^th, and the same SUP guys are over there now.

#

     We call it a day and decide to get some breakfast. Instead of going to Bob’s or Mandy’s, I buy some eggs, Vienna sausage, and bacon. At the house, I cook us a local style breakfast. We eat until we’re stuffed and get on the PS3 for a bit.

     I’m just stoked that I’m able to ride the Tokoro.