The Tale of a Weekend Warrior 102211

Surf Report: 1-2 feet max

Water: Cold but bearable

Winds: slight on shore

Atmosphere: Cloudy

So, I woke up late on Saturday.  How late?  Well it was just one of those mornings where I actually woke up to my alarm in the morning, and went straight back to sleep.  My warm bed called and beckoned me back, as if Aphrodite herself was there with her naked bosom.  I drifted back into La-la land, sweeping through clouds of make believe and wishes of things to be…

And who was calling me at 730?  The one and only Christina.  She was already at Brookhurst. 

FUCK

I grumbled loudly and she could tell I was still in bed.  I told her I’ll be there as fast as I could.  She didn’t expect me to show up at all.

Matt was dirt biking in the middle of the desert, Khang was participating in the beer Olympics, and Dais had a late night house sitting so I was to venture to Huntington Beach all by my lonesome.

I didn’t even do my yoga warm ups this morning. 

I arrived to Brookhurst around 815.  The drive over was terribly cloudy and I blasted the heater the whole way until I was sweating through my sweatshirt.  I had to keep myself warm for the cold water…

I get changed, and head out to Brookhurst.  Christina left me a text saying that her and Apolla would paddle straight out, so I headed straight out to Brookhurst.

The waves looked like skeletons compared to last Saturday’s voluptuous foam figures rolling through.  There was barely a wake in the water, and the sets were two feet max.  Surprisingly, some of the waves stood up and wall up for a turn or two, or three.

I stretch, leash up, and paddle out.  Christina waves me down and we greet each other with an enthusiastic hug.  Apolla and I say hi, and so we three bobbed up and down in the cold waters of Huntington Beach.

Apolla got a new board:  a 7’6” as I recall, which she was generous enough to let me try for a few waves.  It took me three attempts but I managed to stand on it.  The board felt like a board for bigger, monstrous waves.  But, it was supposed to be for smaller days too.  The thing was so beefy and thick that I couldn’t really duck dive too easily (you had to really lean on the nose and push down.) 

Christina was her usual self, cheering Apolla and myself every time we paddled for a wave.  She even tried to push me into a wave whose peak was way too far from me.  Christina had some nice drops that both Apolla and I didn’t think she would make.  But after the white water explosion, we see her wide stance, crouched like a hidden tiger emerge. 

Christina and Apolla opted to leave after we surfed for about an hour together.  I said I was going to leave with them, but the waves just kept rolling in right in front of the lifeguard spot.  It wasn’t epic or all time, but to me, being in the water was so refreshing.  I look forward to Saturday every week because I’m able to surf and be in the water, surrounded by Mother Ocean.  That’s all I live and breathe for nowadays.  I surf because… I live to surf and surf to live. 

There weren’t “memorable waves” today.  I mean, yea I caught a few, and I was able to pump down the line and push the tail out once or twice on some.  But they weren’t super memorable.  These older guys were pushing backside 360’s and nice vertical off the tops on their high performance shortboards.  But even they came up to me and said that I had the board of choice for today. 

I wish they hadn’t said that, because right on queue, the ocean went flat.  They were sitting, I was sitting, we were all just sitting.  Waves would form and evaporate through the line up, and we were left standing on the shallow waters of the shore pound with our balls in our hands, hoping to get a fondling from Mother Ocean.

I started to get cold.  I didn’t wear a watch today, for I wanted to surf until my heart was content knowing that there won’t be waves on Sunday.  I wanted to take advantage of today.  But it was getting hard with my fingers growing numb and my back shivering from the lack of movement.  So, I did what Rick would do:  I paddled to the next lifeguard station.

Now, paddling to the next life guard station isn’t a big feat, but in HB, the open ocean current usually pulls people left and right, so it was sort of a challenge.  I paddled passed the older guys who rip, a girl in a bikini bottom (immediately emasculating me and anyone else wearing a full suit) and some people trying to learn on shortboards.  I caught a wave on the way over to the next lifeguard station, and when I finally made it to the next lifeguard station, I started to paddle back.

I caught my last wave in, and I was finished.  I was content.  I was happy that I got to surf, even if it was two feet max.  I surfed for about three hours.  I live to surf, and surf to live.  I wouldn’t feel alive if I didn’t get wet today.

I met up Rick, and he finished my ALOHA board (now there’s only an OHA left.)  He did a magnificent job with the repair.  It is better than any paid repair job I have ever seen or dealt with.  So, Rick, thank you and a big mahalos to you and your family.

Tokotsu done RIGHT

I also went to Mitsuwa for lunch afterwards.  The Udon place was doing a special promotion with a ramen place called Tsujita Ramen, which actually took over a local block where I grew up, on the beloved corner of Sawtelle.  Tsujita Ramen had a special engagement and served tonkotsu ramen, which is literally “pork bone broth” ramen.  This tonkotsu is native to my parents hometown of Kyuushuu, the southern most island.  It is by far my most favorite type of ramen.  However, no one in the States is able to replicate the flavor:  the pork’s smooth and silky taste, and the refreshing after taste.  Santouka, also located in Mitsuwa, is the closest, but their broth is too oily, albeit the taste is amazing.  So, I paid for my ramen, and looked at it.  The oil looked good, and the soup looked clear.  The smell was unmistakably from home.  I had to stand and eat because there was a shortage of chairs, and I devoured that bowl in a matter of minutes.  My stamp of approval is proudly embossed onto their ramen bowls.  I later thanked them for a delicious meal, since it TRULY is hard to find good tonkotsu ramen in the States.  I’ve tried a lot of them over here, but Tsujita Ramen GOT IT RIGHT. 

Mahalos Mother Ocean for letting me live.  You make me feel alive.  You let me feel that sitting at a desk job for forty hours a week is bearable and worth it.