Surf Report: 1-2 feet close outs
Water: Warm
Winds: On shore
Atmosphere: Sunny
Most of my pre-work surf sessions have been dismal. Not only do I have half an hour to surf, but I don't get to surf with my friends at Manhattan Beach. I surf Venice Beach south of the pier in order to make my commute to work less painful.
Surf today was terribly bad, but I had to get out in the water. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I couldn't even do a "ten quality wave" count. I had three waves, all of them close outs, all of them on the shore pound from the low tide, and all of them without one pump on the face. How could surf suck this badly at a beach??
But, it was better than doing my morning work out and heading straight to the office.
Mahalos Mother Ocean!
Monday, July 13, 2015
At the Mercy of Mother Ocean 070515
Surf Report: 1-2 feet and blown out
Water: Who knows?
Atmosphere: Gloomy
Winds: Blowing the shit out of the waves
"If yesterday wasn't so fun, I would be surfing today," Vietnam Vet Mike said, with a wry smile.
"You're right. Yesterday was soooo fun! Today just looks sad," I replied.
The waves were just not cooperating at all. It looked like every other day in June where it was so dismal and junky.
This was a day for the desperate, the few who didn't score yesterday, the dry pieces of jerky who wished they surfed.
I watched the waves for a whole two hours and called it a day. I headed home at 945 AM.
Matt had told me that Bri and him had packed up early and headed back to 26th Street. They watched it from the hill for a while, and called a lay day too.
Cheryl's birthday is today, and the World Cup for Women's soccer was going on too. I had promised to spend time with my mom and dad, and then hand with Cheryl and company. I watched the USA womens team beat down on Japan in the first 16 minutes. In true samurai spirit though, the Japanese Women never gave up! They gave it their all until the bitter end, and held their heads up high, even if tears were rolling down some of their cheeks.
I headed to Cheryl's place and we all played board games for a good while. Silverton and I made sure that Jenga was played the correct way: by burning it to the ground in the first few moves. We were the first ones to take out the two bottom pieces and watch the tower topple over.
I wasn't mad I didn't get to surf today. I wasn't mad that Japan lost in such dismal fashion. In fact, I enjoyed my whole day being able to spend time with family and friends. Sometimes, you don't have to surf to have a good Sunday.
Mahalos Mother Ocean!
Water: Who knows?
Atmosphere: Gloomy
Winds: Blowing the shit out of the waves
"If yesterday wasn't so fun, I would be surfing today," Vietnam Vet Mike said, with a wry smile.
"You're right. Yesterday was soooo fun! Today just looks sad," I replied.
The waves were just not cooperating at all. It looked like every other day in June where it was so dismal and junky.
This was a day for the desperate, the few who didn't score yesterday, the dry pieces of jerky who wished they surfed.
I watched the waves for a whole two hours and called it a day. I headed home at 945 AM.
Matt had told me that Bri and him had packed up early and headed back to 26th Street. They watched it from the hill for a while, and called a lay day too.
Cheryl's birthday is today, and the World Cup for Women's soccer was going on too. I had promised to spend time with my mom and dad, and then hand with Cheryl and company. I watched the USA womens team beat down on Japan in the first 16 minutes. In true samurai spirit though, the Japanese Women never gave up! They gave it their all until the bitter end, and held their heads up high, even if tears were rolling down some of their cheeks.
I headed to Cheryl's place and we all played board games for a good while. Silverton and I made sure that Jenga was played the correct way: by burning it to the ground in the first few moves. We were the first ones to take out the two bottom pieces and watch the tower topple over.
 |
| The Handsome Pull Out Artist |
I wasn't mad I didn't get to surf today. I wasn't mad that Japan lost in such dismal fashion. In fact, I enjoyed my whole day being able to spend time with family and friends. Sometimes, you don't have to surf to have a good Sunday.
Mahalos Mother Ocean!
Ten Waves 070415
Surf Report: 2-3 feet and rippable
Water: Warm
Atmosphere: Sunny
Winds: Marginal
Happy Fourth of July! Fucking national holidays man... makes everyone come out. Surf schools, beach bums, wannabe beach bums, wahine's in teenie bikini's... everyone. I couldn't find parking at the lots so I made the OG move and parked up the hill. I finally secured a spot and skipped down the hill. The waves looked fun, and so I was hoping to score some waves finally.
I know I shouldn't compare myself to others, but I want to surf better, and so I am trying to steal qualities that I don't have with what other, better surfers do have. One that I have observed is the wave count of Roy and Ross. They always seem to get a 2:1 ratio of waves compared to the average surfer at 26th Street. So, I figured if I employ a more aggressive tactic of catching more quality waves, then I'll get closer to becoming a better surfer - a better version of myself.
So, I set out a goal: 10 quality waves. Not 10 waves, but 10 quality waves where I at least get a pump or two in, and an attempt of a maneuver.
I started to catch waves at my usual spot south of the tower. I would get a few pumps in, then bottom turn up and try a floater front side. Then I would go for some backside floaters. I would catch two close outs, and not count them. I got to five quality waves fairly quickly, and then his a road block.
I waded in the water, and watched others catch waves. All the locals were out: Bruce, Glen, Stocky Jon, Vietnam Vet Mike, Steve-O and Paul. A set wave approaches, and Bruce calls me out to get on it. "GO KLAUDE GOOOOO!"
I dig deep and paddle at a steep angle. It was the set of the day by all means. I pop up and almost lose my balance. I could feel the board almost slide out on the rail, but it catches at the bottom, and I gather my feet. I go straight into a bottom turn, putting all my weight on my right foot, and getting to the top. I jam all my weight back to my heels, and stick both of my arms into the wave face. The wave dies out, and my turn never felt completed. I count that as Quality Wave #6.
I catch three more quality waves, and I am psyched. It's not just my mind set that is changing today's session. The waves are actually good! I try for my tenth quality wave, and it doesn't come.
Be patient KK, be patient.
A left pops up. It looks like nothing, but I make it into something. I pump once and float it. I come unstuck and fall. Quality Wave #10, goal achieved.
I wasn't done though. The waves are too fun and I have free parking! I keep count with the "Quality Wave" mindset and catch five more quality rides. It was a good day to be in the water, and I felt rejuvenated, re-energized, and re-stoked. I felt like a surfer once more.
Matt and Bri tell me that there are good waves coming through San O, but the swell looks like it is dying. Not only that, but by noon the winds are blowing out the place.
I go to Santouka with my friend Stan. We talk it up for a good hour or so, and then head back to my place to talk more about drive, work ethic, and Lakers. I meet up my parents and other parents, the Morimotos, and gorge on more food. It's July 4th, but I don't feel like doing anything. I call it a night at 1000 PM, when most of my peers and neighbors are shooting fireworks into the night sky. I doze off into the abyss of stoke in hopes to score more waves tomorrow.
Mahalos Mother Ocean!
Water: Warm
Atmosphere: Sunny
Winds: Marginal
Happy Fourth of July! Fucking national holidays man... makes everyone come out. Surf schools, beach bums, wannabe beach bums, wahine's in teenie bikini's... everyone. I couldn't find parking at the lots so I made the OG move and parked up the hill. I finally secured a spot and skipped down the hill. The waves looked fun, and so I was hoping to score some waves finally.
I know I shouldn't compare myself to others, but I want to surf better, and so I am trying to steal qualities that I don't have with what other, better surfers do have. One that I have observed is the wave count of Roy and Ross. They always seem to get a 2:1 ratio of waves compared to the average surfer at 26th Street. So, I figured if I employ a more aggressive tactic of catching more quality waves, then I'll get closer to becoming a better surfer - a better version of myself.
So, I set out a goal: 10 quality waves. Not 10 waves, but 10 quality waves where I at least get a pump or two in, and an attempt of a maneuver.
I started to catch waves at my usual spot south of the tower. I would get a few pumps in, then bottom turn up and try a floater front side. Then I would go for some backside floaters. I would catch two close outs, and not count them. I got to five quality waves fairly quickly, and then his a road block.
I waded in the water, and watched others catch waves. All the locals were out: Bruce, Glen, Stocky Jon, Vietnam Vet Mike, Steve-O and Paul. A set wave approaches, and Bruce calls me out to get on it. "GO KLAUDE GOOOOO!"
I dig deep and paddle at a steep angle. It was the set of the day by all means. I pop up and almost lose my balance. I could feel the board almost slide out on the rail, but it catches at the bottom, and I gather my feet. I go straight into a bottom turn, putting all my weight on my right foot, and getting to the top. I jam all my weight back to my heels, and stick both of my arms into the wave face. The wave dies out, and my turn never felt completed. I count that as Quality Wave #6.
I catch three more quality waves, and I am psyched. It's not just my mind set that is changing today's session. The waves are actually good! I try for my tenth quality wave, and it doesn't come.
Be patient KK, be patient.
A left pops up. It looks like nothing, but I make it into something. I pump once and float it. I come unstuck and fall. Quality Wave #10, goal achieved.
I wasn't done though. The waves are too fun and I have free parking! I keep count with the "Quality Wave" mindset and catch five more quality rides. It was a good day to be in the water, and I felt rejuvenated, re-energized, and re-stoked. I felt like a surfer once more.
Matt and Bri tell me that there are good waves coming through San O, but the swell looks like it is dying. Not only that, but by noon the winds are blowing out the place.
I go to Santouka with my friend Stan. We talk it up for a good hour or so, and then head back to my place to talk more about drive, work ethic, and Lakers. I meet up my parents and other parents, the Morimotos, and gorge on more food. It's July 4th, but I don't feel like doing anything. I call it a night at 1000 PM, when most of my peers and neighbors are shooting fireworks into the night sky. I doze off into the abyss of stoke in hopes to score more waves tomorrow.
Mahalos Mother Ocean!
Do We Even Surf, Bruh? 070315
Surf Report: 1-2 feet dribblers
Water: Cool
Atmosphere: Over cast
Winds: On shore
I haven't written in a while. No excuses, I haven't made time for my writing. So, here we go again...!
I started the day off with physical therapy at Patty Brown PT. Carlo worked on my shoulders and I did my work outs until 930 AM. After ice and electronic stimulation, I headed down to 26th Street. Matt and Bri were headed to San Onofre on Sunday, so I figured I should try to surf as much as I could in the meantime and then I can join them on Sunday.
The surf was... miserable. I watched the waves for a good half an hour and I went back to my car and headed back home. I could not bring myself to surf that junk. It just was not appealing at all.
I stopped by Matt and Bri's house, and they were marinating. It was a rare day off for me on a Friday, so I lounged and watched Dane Reynolds clips and old Lakers footage as Matt made me a coffee and veggie smoothie. We talked on how disappointing surf has been, which contributes to why I haven't been writing too.
"Are we really surfers?" I asked him.
"I knowwwww right? It doesn't even feel like we surf anymore. We haven't had any good swell come our way." He replied. "So Bri and I are planning to go to San O tomorrow. We will give you a recon report and maybe you can head down to San O on Sunday."
"Okay, lemme know how the surf is," I replied.
Water: Cool
Atmosphere: Over cast
Winds: On shore
I haven't written in a while. No excuses, I haven't made time for my writing. So, here we go again...!
I started the day off with physical therapy at Patty Brown PT. Carlo worked on my shoulders and I did my work outs until 930 AM. After ice and electronic stimulation, I headed down to 26th Street. Matt and Bri were headed to San Onofre on Sunday, so I figured I should try to surf as much as I could in the meantime and then I can join them on Sunday.
The surf was... miserable. I watched the waves for a good half an hour and I went back to my car and headed back home. I could not bring myself to surf that junk. It just was not appealing at all.
I stopped by Matt and Bri's house, and they were marinating. It was a rare day off for me on a Friday, so I lounged and watched Dane Reynolds clips and old Lakers footage as Matt made me a coffee and veggie smoothie. We talked on how disappointing surf has been, which contributes to why I haven't been writing too.
"Are we really surfers?" I asked him.
"I knowwwww right? It doesn't even feel like we surf anymore. We haven't had any good swell come our way." He replied. "So Bri and I are planning to go to San O tomorrow. We will give you a recon report and maybe you can head down to San O on Sunday."
"Okay, lemme know how the surf is," I replied.
Friday, May 29, 2015
The Perfect Day after the Storm 051615
Surf Report: 3-4 feet and solid
Winds: Offshore
Atmosphere: Gloomy
Water: Cool/Cold
It rained like crazy Thursday. My dad and I swim on Thursday nights, and once we finished swimming in the indoor heated pool, we were greeted by a storm of water marbles falling from the sky. We ran to the car, with our damp towels being drenched by the rain. We rush into the car, laughing about how much down pour we tried to avoid.
"Maybe you should have kept your wetsuit on from this morning?" he asks me, chuckling.
These moments with my dad, running in the rain after our swim, I will cherish forever.
Friday rolls along, with another windy, rainy day. Bri voxes me to tell me that she is paddling out after work. I decline, saying that I have to coach.
However, turns out my kids were all sick that day, and I had to cancel practice. I called the two kids who were planning to come, and one of them said he still wanted to practice. So, we had practice with two kids and myself for a full hour and a half.
Saturday morning... Kitty wakes me up at 620 AM. I didn't plan to wake up this early, especially since the morning is glum outside my window, and it feels like it is cold.
Nevertheless, I get out of the house at 700 AM. I drive by Dockweiler and see that the winds are offshore. The water looks gray and murky, but hey, it rained last week, so how bad can it be? One week of sludge and run off ain't gonna stop me!
I score free parking in the neighborhood, and hit the sand by 730 AM. I can tell... my heart is beating faster... It is going to be a really good session.
First wave is a left. I pump the high line, tag a bit off the top, pump again and try to stick a backside floater. I fall. But man!!! The waves are so clean!!
The gray skies and murky water definitely looks bad, but the shape is good. No, the shape is great! And the craziest thing is that no one is out. Not Don Kadowaki, no Bruce, no Roy, no Ross... No Mr. Mike the Vietnam Vet, no Oscar, no Robert.
Orlando is out though. "Bratha! You should have been out here earlier! It was firing man!" he says.
"What are you talking about, it's still firing!" I tell him.
Today was just a day where all the factors leading up to the day, including the heavy rain, the windy days from before, the cloudy sky, the cold May weather, signaled NOT to go out, but we still did. Two turns on a wave was pretty much guaranteed.
Maddie and her dad Chad paddle out, and a foamie guy wearing a hat is pushing Maddie into waves. He is giving her pointers on how to surf. He is giving her lessons! Damn. I want lessons too. Or, to be pushed into waves. Maddie gets a nice left and does a small cut back. We all cheer her on it.
I kinda think I see Bri in the distance, from the way she is paddling, but she is riding a tiny board. I didn't think that was her until I saw her pop up. I paddle over to her and we both hug in the water.
"Dude, Matt's gonna go nuts when he hears 'bout today," I tell her.
"Ohhhh I KNOOOOOW. He's gonna be so mad, but psyched we scored," she says.
"And then mad again," I laugh.
The crowd never thickens for the whole session. It's really mellow and there are only locals out. Only the people who know each other are out here today. We all share waves and cheer people on nice rides.
I am paying more attention to the lines I draw from the moment I pop up. Not just to pay attention on taking the high line, but also to utilize my speed pumping up and down on the speedy steep sections. I have to trust my board to "stick" on the face of the wave even when it is steep, and believe that the vehicle I am riding will conform to the shape of the wave.
Honestly, it was like a skate park here today. I took a right, pumped, hit the first section, pumped more until I got to the inside, then tried to hit the oncoming white water section. I got to practice this same move three times in a row, in repetition. I messed up the finishing move the first time, but stuck it the next two times. The best part? Maddie saw my second attempt!
"Hey remember that time I snaked you?" she asks me in the line up.
"You mean the TWO times you snaked me, and then fell right in front of me?" I inquire.
"YES! That time, when I fell in front of you." We both laugh.
I start making mistakes towards the three hour mark of surf. The wind is slightly on the wave face now, but the waves are still good. I tell Bri that I'll be heading out soon, and she catches her last wave. I catch my last wave and look back at Mother Ocean. So beautiful, so clean today. I couldn't believe how perfect it was.
Bri and I grab brunch at Good Stuff. We are seated at the table right in front of the entrance. We order our food, and when the food arrives, we get an extra side of fruit. Score!
However, our water only gets refilled once while we are there. They also forget to bring us our toast. Only once did they check if "every thing is ok" after we say that our toast did not arrive, which was actually towards our last bites of our meal.
"I'm not going back there for a long time," says Bri. I concur. We both hate leaving skimpy tips, but we leave $2 each off of our bill which was around $20 each. 10% tip. Fuck em.
Mahalos Mother Ocean!!
Winds: Offshore
Atmosphere: Gloomy
Water: Cool/Cold
It rained like crazy Thursday. My dad and I swim on Thursday nights, and once we finished swimming in the indoor heated pool, we were greeted by a storm of water marbles falling from the sky. We ran to the car, with our damp towels being drenched by the rain. We rush into the car, laughing about how much down pour we tried to avoid.
"Maybe you should have kept your wetsuit on from this morning?" he asks me, chuckling.
These moments with my dad, running in the rain after our swim, I will cherish forever.
Friday rolls along, with another windy, rainy day. Bri voxes me to tell me that she is paddling out after work. I decline, saying that I have to coach.
However, turns out my kids were all sick that day, and I had to cancel practice. I called the two kids who were planning to come, and one of them said he still wanted to practice. So, we had practice with two kids and myself for a full hour and a half.
Saturday morning... Kitty wakes me up at 620 AM. I didn't plan to wake up this early, especially since the morning is glum outside my window, and it feels like it is cold.
Nevertheless, I get out of the house at 700 AM. I drive by Dockweiler and see that the winds are offshore. The water looks gray and murky, but hey, it rained last week, so how bad can it be? One week of sludge and run off ain't gonna stop me!
I score free parking in the neighborhood, and hit the sand by 730 AM. I can tell... my heart is beating faster... It is going to be a really good session.
First wave is a left. I pump the high line, tag a bit off the top, pump again and try to stick a backside floater. I fall. But man!!! The waves are so clean!!
The gray skies and murky water definitely looks bad, but the shape is good. No, the shape is great! And the craziest thing is that no one is out. Not Don Kadowaki, no Bruce, no Roy, no Ross... No Mr. Mike the Vietnam Vet, no Oscar, no Robert.
Orlando is out though. "Bratha! You should have been out here earlier! It was firing man!" he says.
"What are you talking about, it's still firing!" I tell him.
Today was just a day where all the factors leading up to the day, including the heavy rain, the windy days from before, the cloudy sky, the cold May weather, signaled NOT to go out, but we still did. Two turns on a wave was pretty much guaranteed.
Maddie and her dad Chad paddle out, and a foamie guy wearing a hat is pushing Maddie into waves. He is giving her pointers on how to surf. He is giving her lessons! Damn. I want lessons too. Or, to be pushed into waves. Maddie gets a nice left and does a small cut back. We all cheer her on it.
I kinda think I see Bri in the distance, from the way she is paddling, but she is riding a tiny board. I didn't think that was her until I saw her pop up. I paddle over to her and we both hug in the water.
"Dude, Matt's gonna go nuts when he hears 'bout today," I tell her.
"Ohhhh I KNOOOOOW. He's gonna be so mad, but psyched we scored," she says.
"And then mad again," I laugh.
The crowd never thickens for the whole session. It's really mellow and there are only locals out. Only the people who know each other are out here today. We all share waves and cheer people on nice rides.
I am paying more attention to the lines I draw from the moment I pop up. Not just to pay attention on taking the high line, but also to utilize my speed pumping up and down on the speedy steep sections. I have to trust my board to "stick" on the face of the wave even when it is steep, and believe that the vehicle I am riding will conform to the shape of the wave.
Honestly, it was like a skate park here today. I took a right, pumped, hit the first section, pumped more until I got to the inside, then tried to hit the oncoming white water section. I got to practice this same move three times in a row, in repetition. I messed up the finishing move the first time, but stuck it the next two times. The best part? Maddie saw my second attempt!
"Hey remember that time I snaked you?" she asks me in the line up.
"You mean the TWO times you snaked me, and then fell right in front of me?" I inquire.
"YES! That time, when I fell in front of you." We both laugh.
I start making mistakes towards the three hour mark of surf. The wind is slightly on the wave face now, but the waves are still good. I tell Bri that I'll be heading out soon, and she catches her last wave. I catch my last wave and look back at Mother Ocean. So beautiful, so clean today. I couldn't believe how perfect it was.
Bri and I grab brunch at Good Stuff. We are seated at the table right in front of the entrance. We order our food, and when the food arrives, we get an extra side of fruit. Score!
However, our water only gets refilled once while we are there. They also forget to bring us our toast. Only once did they check if "every thing is ok" after we say that our toast did not arrive, which was actually towards our last bites of our meal.
"I'm not going back there for a long time," says Bri. I concur. We both hate leaving skimpy tips, but we leave $2 each off of our bill which was around $20 each. 10% tip. Fuck em.
Mahalos Mother Ocean!!
Monday, May 18, 2015
Venice Shitty Surf 051415
Surf Report: 3-4 feet
Winds: Onshore
Atmosphere: Bit cloudy and ominous
Water: Cool/Cold
I haven't been writing a while because surf has been shitty. Today was no different.
I pulled out of bed, late, and did my morning routine. I threw my gear into my car, and headed to Venice beach for a pre-work surf.
I didn't even look at the waves and got dressed in my wetsuit. I knew the wind and rain was coming, so I better get on the surf while it wasn't so bad. To much of my dismay, the surf was jumbled up and the line up was empty.
I paddled out, and I'm getting worked on the inside. First time in a long time since I get worked by Venice Beach. The current is pulling me north because of the incoming south swell. I can see that the sets are closing out, while the inside offers reforms.
I sit in the line up and wait with another dude. He has a rubber hood on, and his paddle doesn't seem too experienced. Here I am, judging again. I should stop. But, I try to assess other surfers' skill level in the line up as to not drop in on the "wrong person," especially at a localized spot such as Venice.
I catch a close out left, and hop off.
I duck dive several double up drainers that dump on the shallow sand. The waves are breaking further out than normal, but without any shape... Is this dismal enough for you, KK?
I catch another close out and hop off.
I watch the sets march in, and shake my head. I'm ok on that. It is not fun.
I belly ride into shore.
Now, from the tone of this, readers may think I am disgruntled, unsatisfied, and maybe a bit pissed. But I was not.
On the contrary, I was happy I paddled out, caught two close outs, and got a belly ride in during my 30 minute surf session.
I woke up late, showed up to the beach late, but still got to surf.
Surfing is a privilege, no matter the conditions. If I was injured, or hung-over, or land-locked, I wouldn't be able to surf. I was stressed before surfing, and now I wasn't. I have surfing to thank for the switch in mood. Even if it was a shitty surf sesh, I got to jump in the water, get salt and sand shot up my nostrils and ears, and come back smiling to my car.
So Mahalos Mother Ocean.
Winds: Onshore
Atmosphere: Bit cloudy and ominous
Water: Cool/Cold
I haven't been writing a while because surf has been shitty. Today was no different.
I pulled out of bed, late, and did my morning routine. I threw my gear into my car, and headed to Venice beach for a pre-work surf.
I didn't even look at the waves and got dressed in my wetsuit. I knew the wind and rain was coming, so I better get on the surf while it wasn't so bad. To much of my dismay, the surf was jumbled up and the line up was empty.
I paddled out, and I'm getting worked on the inside. First time in a long time since I get worked by Venice Beach. The current is pulling me north because of the incoming south swell. I can see that the sets are closing out, while the inside offers reforms.
I sit in the line up and wait with another dude. He has a rubber hood on, and his paddle doesn't seem too experienced. Here I am, judging again. I should stop. But, I try to assess other surfers' skill level in the line up as to not drop in on the "wrong person," especially at a localized spot such as Venice.
I catch a close out left, and hop off.
I duck dive several double up drainers that dump on the shallow sand. The waves are breaking further out than normal, but without any shape... Is this dismal enough for you, KK?
I catch another close out and hop off.
I watch the sets march in, and shake my head. I'm ok on that. It is not fun.
I belly ride into shore.
Now, from the tone of this, readers may think I am disgruntled, unsatisfied, and maybe a bit pissed. But I was not.
On the contrary, I was happy I paddled out, caught two close outs, and got a belly ride in during my 30 minute surf session.
I woke up late, showed up to the beach late, but still got to surf.
Surfing is a privilege, no matter the conditions. If I was injured, or hung-over, or land-locked, I wouldn't be able to surf. I was stressed before surfing, and now I wasn't. I have surfing to thank for the switch in mood. Even if it was a shitty surf sesh, I got to jump in the water, get salt and sand shot up my nostrils and ears, and come back smiling to my car.
So Mahalos Mother Ocean.
Monday, April 27, 2015
An Ode to Shitty Surf
The days that we look at the surf report, and decide that it is "no good" to go out and paddle. That is a shitty surf day.
We look at the cams on Surfline, and say, "Holy shit, that is a fucking swamp," or "What the fuck, is this Lake Michigan?"
That is a shitty surf day.
The days that are painfully small, completely blown out, mushy, frustrating, no shape, cold, clammy, rainy, and not worth the paddle out. That is a shitty surf day.
Going out by myself. Getting two close outs and calling it a session. Heading in after thirty minutes of surf. Not seeing one of your homies. NOT ONE!!
I love these shitty days of surf.
WHY?
Because they don't matter, and do matter, that is why.
Shitty days of surf don't matter because I am already at the beach, while most are still waking up. Heck, some may just be getting home from a tough graveyard shift. People are lumbering out of bed, lethargically brewing up a strong cup of coffee, while I am already at the beach, looking out at the surf.
Shitty days of surf don't matter because I appreciate a one turn wave. I appreciate sitting out in the line up, waiting for another shitty close out. I appreciate getting one pump in. I appreciate a belly ride into shore.
Shitty days of surf just don't matter, because I can be in Wisconsin, where there is no body of water in hundreds of miles in each direction. Fuck that shit, give me some shitty surf any day then.
Why do they matter? Because they show one's dedication, one's grit, one's passion, one's desperation. It shows that no matter what, I am there to get wet. I am there to welcome whatever Mother Nature may offer.
Maybe I am just a nut? Maybe my thought process is not dictated by thought, but rather by feeling. I feel better, no matter what, after paddling out. Even after thirty minutes catching two close outs and being late for work. (Don't tell my boss.)
Or maybe I am just a novice that does not know any better. Small, safe waves are fun. Close outs are fun as long as I stick the drop, or try to pull in. I don't need five turns on a wave to have fun.
Just get wet.
Such is life where we only see pictures of smiling faces, expensive, decadent food on the instagram feed, and young, idealistic bodies of unattainable perfection. There are no pictures of when we fight amongst each other, bickering over stupid shit and then make up. No scenes of laboring hard, tending the fields, sweating over a hot stove, and preparing the food for four hours. Nor do we see all the work of a strict diet, constantly working out, and saying no to the temptations in life. We know so little of how much we put in to capture that moment of beauty and perfection.
So, here's to you, Shitty Surf. You may disappoint, waste time, and even piss me off. Heck, you may even make me not paddle out to do my favorite thing. But without you, I would not appreciate the beauty of the mediocre, perfect days in Manhattan Beach, or the challenge of a pumping, hollow day at Huntington Beach , or the gnarliness of a firing, barreling day in Hawaii. But, you will always be there no matter what, waiting for me to paddle out.
So if someone asks, "How was it?"
Answer, "Shitty, but fun!"
We look at the cams on Surfline, and say, "Holy shit, that is a fucking swamp," or "What the fuck, is this Lake Michigan?"
That is a shitty surf day.
The days that are painfully small, completely blown out, mushy, frustrating, no shape, cold, clammy, rainy, and not worth the paddle out. That is a shitty surf day.
Going out by myself. Getting two close outs and calling it a session. Heading in after thirty minutes of surf. Not seeing one of your homies. NOT ONE!!
I love these shitty days of surf.
WHY?
Because they don't matter, and do matter, that is why.
Shitty days of surf don't matter because I am already at the beach, while most are still waking up. Heck, some may just be getting home from a tough graveyard shift. People are lumbering out of bed, lethargically brewing up a strong cup of coffee, while I am already at the beach, looking out at the surf.
Shitty days of surf don't matter because I appreciate a one turn wave. I appreciate sitting out in the line up, waiting for another shitty close out. I appreciate getting one pump in. I appreciate a belly ride into shore.
Shitty days of surf just don't matter, because I can be in Wisconsin, where there is no body of water in hundreds of miles in each direction. Fuck that shit, give me some shitty surf any day then.
Why do they matter? Because they show one's dedication, one's grit, one's passion, one's desperation. It shows that no matter what, I am there to get wet. I am there to welcome whatever Mother Nature may offer.
Maybe I am just a nut? Maybe my thought process is not dictated by thought, but rather by feeling. I feel better, no matter what, after paddling out. Even after thirty minutes catching two close outs and being late for work. (Don't tell my boss.)
Or maybe I am just a novice that does not know any better. Small, safe waves are fun. Close outs are fun as long as I stick the drop, or try to pull in. I don't need five turns on a wave to have fun.
Just get wet.
Such is life where we only see pictures of smiling faces, expensive, decadent food on the instagram feed, and young, idealistic bodies of unattainable perfection. There are no pictures of when we fight amongst each other, bickering over stupid shit and then make up. No scenes of laboring hard, tending the fields, sweating over a hot stove, and preparing the food for four hours. Nor do we see all the work of a strict diet, constantly working out, and saying no to the temptations in life. We know so little of how much we put in to capture that moment of beauty and perfection.
So, here's to you, Shitty Surf. You may disappoint, waste time, and even piss me off. Heck, you may even make me not paddle out to do my favorite thing. But without you, I would not appreciate the beauty of the mediocre, perfect days in Manhattan Beach, or the challenge of a pumping, hollow day at Huntington Beach , or the gnarliness of a firing, barreling day in Hawaii. But, you will always be there no matter what, waiting for me to paddle out.
So if someone asks, "How was it?"
Answer, "Shitty, but fun!"
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