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Gwen Mickelson Surfed on a Greek in SC

 

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

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