Nonchalantly knocking back a
few cocktails late Friday night, I thought to myself that the
next morning's surf contest, starting bright and early at 7
a.m., could be one of two things, or both: really embarrassing
or really fun.
"You're coming down tomorrow
morning and doing a beach entry!" barked Ray Conti, president of
Pack Your Trash and one of the organizers of St. Valentine's Day
Massacre locals-only cross-town surf contest, at about 6 p.m.
Friday evening. "Uhhhhh, OK." You don't say no to Ray
Conti.
Just a little bit bleary-eyed,
I'm down at Pleasure Point at 7 a.m., gamely ' or stupidly '
signing my release waiver, writing down what side of town I'm
officially representing, and warily checking the waves.
They were good Saturday. Unlike
last year, when the first day of the contest got bombed by an
incoming storm, Saturday had head-high sets stacking up out the
back, no wind and sunshine beaming everywhere, and the tides
worked out pretty well, too.
Salty surfers, skater kids and
some of the local pros milled around all morning on the cliff,
talking, eating doughnuts, getting ready for their heats and
checking out the old-school boards leaning against the rail.
One of the requirements of the
contest is that boards, both longboard and shortboard, be 1980
vintage or earlier. So you saw a lot of old Hauts, Freelines,
O'Neills and weird garage boards, all single or twin fins.
I was a bit nervous about the
board. I have a modern retro-style longboard, but I've never
surfed one of those authentic antique gazongas. I was picturing
myself getting stuck with some redwood log the size of Texas.
Participants without old boards were invited to use one of the
boards someone else brought, and looking at my choices, I picked
the lightest-looking of the bunch: a custom, light-green
Greek from Huntington Beach that
looked about 9-foot-4 and sported a massive glassed-in fin.
I hefted the thing. Woaaahhh!
At least 25 pounds heavier than my modern retro log. Getting it
down the treacherous pathway at first peak was almost comical.
Paddling out, I started to
develop even more of an appreciation for the old-time surfers
who rode these things, and even managed to pull it off with
grace and class, without the benefit of leashes. And then what
about those guys who were doing 30-foot Hawaiian faces on them,
or on even worse boards' It's unreal to think about it,
considering I had a hard time just turning my tank around while
sitting on it.
Paddling it was going to take
some adjusting, too, I could see, since my attempts at getting
into waves were mostly unsuccessful. Marty Mechanic, who was
doing water patrol, and Shane Desmond, who were in my heat, were
cheering me on.
"Go girl!!" they were
screaming. That was cool. They were nabbing really good waves,
and all the guys in my heat were smiling ear to ear. There was a
lot of really good surfing at the contest, even on those old
boards, which reminds you of the immense talent we have in Santa
Cruz.
The cliff looked far away, and
just the feeling of being in the water with good waves was
making me really stoked. I wanted to stay out there forever.
I was bonked from my first
heat. But no matter ' surfing is all about connection, anyway,
with the ocean, with other people. It seemed like Saturday
morning brought both, whether you were Eastside, Westside or
blind-sided.
Now hear this:
Doc Scott, president of Santa Cruz-based surf earplug maker
Doc's Proplugs, is continuing his free examinations for
"surfer's ear" all day today at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre
at Pleasure Point. Scott examines ears with a fiber-optic scope
and full color monitor. Clients will receive a free souvenir
photo of their ears.
Rip-offs:
A reader wrote to tell me someone spotted her hiding my key
while she surfed at Privates. They took her purse, which had her
credit cards, driver's license, etc., cell phone and car key.
Two weeks later, she met a friend at the Hook parking lot, put
all her stuff in her friend's car and went surfing. When she
returned from a fun session, her car was gone. The thieves
ripped it off, since they had the key from the first theft. The
cops found it unharmed in the neighborhood five hours later, but
she's going to have to spend a bunch of money to get her locks
changed, plus have a bummer feeling of mistrust when she goes
into the ocean.
Someone also had their car
stolen from the parking lot in front of the Lane in late
January, according to a posting from Surfline.com.
Unfortunately, we may all have
to start using those little key pockets sewn into our wetsuits.
Send surf items
to Gwen Mickelson at
gmickelson@santacruzsentinel.com
|
