The Monkey that was Launched into Space - 021112

Surf Report: Chest high sets rolling through

Water: Cold

Atmosphere: Gloomy

Winds: Super on shore

For a weekend warrior like myself, I look forward to surfing on a Saturday morning.  I woke up at 530 AM and started my morning routine of stretches and breathing exercises.  I headed out the door by 600 AM and got onto the 10 freeway to get on the 405.  As I made my way onto the 405, I noticed small spots of rain… no biggie, right?

I get to Hyperion Treatment plant, and notice all the smoke being blown on shore… the waves look big and washing machine like.  This can’t be that bad, right?

I parked at 26^th Street, and no one is out yet.  Everyone is just watching the waves.  One of the locals is starting to suit up, and I watch the waves roll in.  The white was just looks like a washing machine on the inside.  I try to amp myself up, telling myself I can do this, and start making phone calls on who will be here and who won’t. 

Our local shaper Don, the one who shaped my most recent board, pulls up, and starts to suit up.  He says he doesn’t even look at the surf reports anymore.  He just heads out of his house and see’s the conditions first hand.  As he suits up, I tell him I gotta suit up too, since he’s paddling out.  He smiles and says, “Don’t judge that board I shaped you on today’s conditions!” 

I get on the cold sand, and do my usual stretches.  I look at my watch, and it reads 647 AM.  I paddle out in my usual spot.  The white wash pounds me.  I can feel the water moving at a more than usual fast rate.  I duck dive.  I paddle more.  I duck dive.  I paddle more.  I duck dive.  I paddle harder.  I duck dive.  I see white wash lines just forming non stop on the horizon.  The grey skies serve as an ominous premonition for the next thirty minutes of my life. 

I keep my head down and truck through the white water washing machine.  The board is super thick, and so it’s harder to duck dive.  I feel I’m getting pushed back on every duck dive.  I want to just let the board go and swim through the white wash, but I could hear Matt’s bigger bro, Randy, screaming at me not to let my board go.  I keep duck diving. 

I look back at my location: I’m still in front of where I started, so that’s a good thing.  I’m fighting the current fine.  I see Don taking off on a wave, and kicking out almost as quickly as he dropped in.  I see him in the distance, trucking through the white water, but even he’s having a hard time paddling back out. 

I paddle hard, and duck dive.  I paddle more, and duck dive.  The on coming wall of white water looks like a stampede of white elephants charging at me.  Even the white water has power today. 

I finally make it out to the “line up” and look at my watch.  It reads 720 AM.  As I did the math in my head of how long I’ve been paddling, Mother Ocean threw me a chest high peak right in front of me, as if to say, “Oh, you’re able to rest?  Then I’m not making it challenging enough for you then.” 

That little chest high set pushed me right back in the impact zone.  The white water paddle out was fucked up anyway, and I was back to square one.  I shook my head trying to regain my composure, and then kept paddling and duck diving. 

One of the white water waves actually catches me because my duck dive was too shallow.  I felt my body get pitched over on the lip, and I thought I would crash onto the wave and get pitched again, but instead this wave rolled me out like pizza dough.  I could feel my board being yanked out of my hands, and being dragged behind me.  I counted ten banana’s, and the wave still wouldn’t let me go.  For a split second, I could feel my lungs start to scream for air, but my mind told my body that I’ve trained for this, and to calm down.  After that, the wave finally let me go and my oxygen deprived body started to cramp up a little in my legs.  But, at least I stayed calm. 

I paddled and ducked dive a few more but I gave up, took a white water wave in, and sat on the sand to contemplate to myself on the morning’s ordeal.  I watch two other surfers not even make it passed the first line of white water, which gives me a sense of achievement.  I reflect on why I surf.  Why paddling and duck diving so much is a good thing.  Why my new board is good training.  Why I should enjoy these conditions.  I muster up enough reasons in my head to paddle out once more after a good stretch.  I start paddling, and my arms just feel like jello.  They screamed “NO MORE PADDLING PLEASE!! NO MORE DUCK DIVING PLEASE!!” 

I turn around, and head back in.  As I walked back in my walk of shame, I turn around, and respectfully bow to Mother Ocean.  I yell out ARIGATOUGOZAIMASU, which is thank you in Japanese.

Back in the lot, all the local guys gave me props.  They were all laughing, saying how they saw me paddling for so long, and finally when I got to a safe zone, that outside set just broke right on top of me, and that I was getting clobbered again.  They applauded my efforts, and said thanks for paddling out, now they know not to paddle out. 

“I’m glad I could put on a show for you guys today!” I said, smiling. 

I was the test monkey, being launched into space. 

Don and the other local came back, looking exhausted.  Don said he got caught on the inside, and Bruce counted at least 40 duck dives when he got caught inside. 

Most of the locals went home after my debacle.  I was glad I was able to be of some us to them. 

Dais, Khang and DK roll in with their van.  I tell them my report, Don talks to them, and they suit up to go out.  I talk with Glenn and watch them paddle out, wondering if they would even get out to the line up.  Maybe because of the high tide, or the location they chose to paddle out, Khang was able to paddle out smoothly to the line up.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Even crazier, Dais paddles out in half the time Khang did!  Perhaps that was luck too.  He used the rip current in front of the tower to get out easier.  Khang caught one left and kicked out before the wave crashed on him.  DK unfortunately couldn’t get out into the line up before I left.  He did eventually make it out though. 

Mahalos Mother Ocean.  In the end, you are the boss and you will sort everything.  Thanks for the gargantuan slice of humble pie.