Closed eyes, pursed lips.
The sun popped out, after a touch of morning grey, a light wind carrying with it the scent of sea, of good times waiting. I tossed my board in the back of the truck, coasted down the hill, parked, crossed the train tracks, crossed the street and beheld smaller than expected surf but still fun.
Shoulder-ish high on the sets.
It wasn’t particularly crowded, a sort of easy-going vibe that complemented the lack of critical sections nicely.
A kid was trying a few airs on a new-ish Christenson. A goat boater, fully bearded, vested with a CamelBak and helmet floated next to him.
A wave came and I watched as a chubby 30-something riding a round-nosed mini-mal dropped in on a ginger pre-teen riding a Wavestorm who was then dropped in on by a nondescript 40-something riding a yellowing gun.
When they all came up the pre-teen Stormtrooper flipped his board over and paddled back out. The chubby 30-something floated next to his mini-mal and started jawing at the nondescript 40-something, who floated next to his yellowing gun.
Their faces two feet apart.
They jawed for a handful of moments and then it happened.
The chubby 30-something splashed the nondescript 40-something in the face. The nondescript 40-something returned fire and splashed the chubby 30-something in the face. The chubby 30-something went back for seconds. The nondescript 40-something, not willing to concede, went back for seconds too.
And then it went full on. Both splashing each other in the face, from two feet apart for a solid 30 to 40 seconds.
No punches, no pushes, just rage-filled splashing for a weirdly long time.
I had never seen anything so positively wonderful. Both had their eyes closed, lips pursed, in order to keep that saltwater out. Heads tilted up, slightly.
The splashing reached critical mass where the hands couldn’t quite move fast enough to inflict much water damage plus with the eyes closed, heads tilted up, it was difficult for each to regularly hit the target but I did see the chubby 30-something gasp for air at some point.
And like that it was over.
I applauded and noted to those around me that we had just witnessed the greatest lineup fight in surfing’s long and sordid history.
They all agreed.
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I had never seen anything so positively wonderful. Both had their eyes closed, lips pursed… Heads tilted up, slightly… the hands couldn’t quite move fast enough … the chubby 30-something gasp for air at some point.
Yep. Surfing is a group wank, with extra steps.
I saw a splash fight on a waist high day at El Cap last year.
All I could figure is this was some kind of homo-surfer secret flirtation, and the two were buggering each other in the back of a Sprinter van, post-haste. #vanlife #schmittsgay
I’m either going too buy a bike or a fishing boat.
Surfing is getting that boring.
My point break is like visiting a old person home at Christmas any day it breaks .
Hawaii isn’t any better and in Indo it’s worse
On the South Shore of Oahu, I saw a skinny dread lock dude paddle to the tip of the triangle, and then burn a local girl, twice. These old dudes circled the dread lock, then boom, sychronized water attack, splashing him from 360 degrees. the poor dread didnt know wtf was happening and just kept saying “sorry, sorry!” while trying to take cover; the leader of the old dudes said “what you doing?! you dont burn girls here!” I thought, “that was nice of those old dudes and way better than a physical attack, for everyone involved.”
The best surf fight was when my friends were throwing rocks at another friend while he was having a beach shit. He threw his shit back at them.
Off topic but Fuck I hate three car garage bands. They have every instrument, every app, every gadget. Just write a fucking song without those dickhead four chords and shut us cunts up. take a fucking chance.
Or maybe they were just having a vigorous wank.
The non-descript 40 something on a yellowing gun is a thing! However, I reckon it is fading out.
Bali disagrees.
That is where it’s OK, even recommended, to sport a yellowing gun!
The Hobgoods go at it again.
sounds like the main event at an ASR convention….. only in water which most ASR attendees don’t often touch.
and chas watched all of this while proudly perched (a little higher in the water than normal) on his mid length
Either of them wearing a yellow beanie?
Both. It’s a battle where only one will be the yellowist.
Urban hipster VALS?
Damn yellow-bellied sort indeed
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V84...
Ha! Was that interpretive dancing?
Like me and you having a back and forth at BG.
Just another example of how the sport of Kings is now the sport of Kooks! How embarrassing
I remember one of the old enforcers in the line up at Raglan back in the early 90’s who used to have a slightly different approach if anyone got even remotely close to him whilst he was on a wave……and he used to drop in on everyone if he wanted a wave. He would just politely say “hey can I have a look at your board please – it looks great” the unassuming would then paddle up to him and show him his board – he would causally turn it over commenting on how nice the board looked and then – whack whack whack – he would dislodge all three glass on fins – before telling the bloke to fuck off back to the car park and to never surf again if he was out in the water. No one ever challenged him back.
Well, he’s probably dead by now. So who’s the bad ass now?
Once on a sunny crowded Memorial Day at Trestles circa 1992, Tai Van Dyke punched out a few of my fins and in the process cut himself up pretty good. The joke was on him as the board was a dog I got used from Mitch’s back shed and it deserved it.
Ah the old corona kiss, where one coughs into the water and then splashes the virus-riddled droplets at their opponent. Effective. Deadly. Scripps-approved. Especially considering the 30 year old on the mini mal obviously suffers various co-morbidities
I thought the Geneva Convention banned such horrible bio-warfare? Someone call the UN.
Back off Warchild, seriously