Monday, April 18, 2005

Wind Blows

Grape soda rules.

Spring, on the other hand, is kind of lame. This spring especially has been cold and windy and kind of damp. It hasn't ever really gotten flat though, so we can add that to the grape soda side.

Last week we had a few interesting days of waves. Monday was the weirdest, which started out breezy and cold and gray - typical eddy conditions. But then, as it rolled into early afternoon, the S winds eased up, the water turned glassy, and a fairly juicy swell got a nice late grooming. By 4 PM there were perfect, bowling, overhead A-frames up and down the beach.

That's the good part. The bad part was that it was so criss-crossed and shifty that being in the right spot at the right time had way more to do with luck than anything else. The tide also started rolling in, which meant that, on top of warbly backwash, the waves were backing off a bit on the outside and then dumping on the inside. That can be tough when it's 6 feet.

If you did lock into one though, there were barrels and big turns to be had.

Friday did an even more dramatic turnaround. The wind blew all morning and by noon it was raining and just straight up ugly. Then after about an hour of drizzle, it stopped, the sun came out, the wind DIED, and a handful of us paddled out into clean, racy, shoulder-high waves.

Saturday it was more wind. Went out around noon just in time to grovel through crossed-up, blown-out shit at Magnolia St. I did however manage to backdoor the only decent sized set of the afternoon, fell, and just about blew my eardrum apart.

Note to self and 5 people who read this blog: Wear earplugs.

Yes, wear the sunblock, too. But unless you're already deaf or Pete Towsnend, wear the friggin' earplugs. I recommend Hearos, which look like skinny little blue mushrooms with 3 caps. They cost three bucks at any drugstore and they're completely waterproof. They also block out a lot of sound, which sucks if you're surfing with your buddies, but great if you're surrounded by babbling idiots at, oh I don't know...say, the PIER.

Few random what-have-you's before an early departure...

Congrats to my old friend, James Crush, who is THE hot shot in South Mish for another year. Crush hacked his way through the same slop the rest of us did this weekend. Only he did it with a bit more slash and style and in the process picked up his second win in Craig Beck's annual, "Who's the Hot Shot?" contest down in SD. Let's all dump a virtual Tecate on Gramps' lid.

My San Francisco Giants are currently leaving more men on base than the French army. It's always something. Last year it was the bullpen. This year it's the Ribbys. Or lack of.

A BIG up to Ryan Seelbach for being a top-3 finisher in his first heat of the Mavericks contest a while back. I got to watch it in HD yesterday and they showed NONE of his waves. They did show ONE of his waves from Round 2, but only because he dropped in on Skindog. Better watch out Seel-back, I hear Skinny's GNARLY.

My good friend and college roommate, Antman, just made the leap from roving SD indie surf photographer to Official Staff Photographer at Surfer Magazine. This means that whatever tiny chance I ever had of getting him to snap my picture in the water just officially blew out Chris Mauro's window. Oh well. Congrats anyway, bro.

Alright, that's enough of that. Before this love fest spins out of control and I start thanking Evan Slater for publishing my letter in Surfing this month (which, by the way, permanently cements my kook status for all eternity), I better make like a fly-by-trend surf company and Split.

Oh wait, I do have one fuckwit shoutout to make re: Jamie Tierney's college paper profile on Timmy Reyes in last month's Surfing. In trying to (somewhat accurately) profile little Timmy as the scrappy byproduct of trailer parks and pier hassle sessions, he pigeonholed HB as a gloomy, run-down, Flint, Michigan by the Pacific. And while I'll be the first to call this town out on its shortcomings, his polluted, blue-collar, "condoms floating in the water" generalizations in order to frame his subject and stick with the bit, were so far off base it's embarrassing. I hate the word sophomoric, but dude, if the trunks fit...

The Colonel says, "Go Giants."