Not Too Shabby, Gabby - Dave Lilliot

Despite the recent troubling times our great nation has seen, and the unfortunate possibilities of an impending long and drawn out war, Tropical Storm Gabrielle, now a distant and nearly defunct Gabrielle, spun up some action just long enough in her short stay in the Gulf of Mexico to push up a short but epic swell for the Texas Gulf Coast. It was just the respite that many of us Texas surfers needed to try and forget the recent tragedies and get on with our lives through a great day of mind and soul cleansing by surfing an excellent gift from Gabby.

The swell hit on Friday, but by the time I hit it after work, the wind had already blown it out. The swell had some nice size, but was very choppy from a stiff NE wind which made for "just ride it out rides" as opposed to any rides with much style. We planned a true dawn patrol session for Saturday, as we new it would be on, and everybody and their dog would soon be down to take advantage of the swell. On top of that, the North District of the TGSA (Texas Gulf Surfing Association) had their first contest of the season planned for the nest day…and they picked the right day.

We awoke at 5 a.m. and were on the road for the coast by 5:30. I was with my partner in crime, Carolyn (third in state last year), who needed to get down early to sign in at 7 a.m. for the contest. We dragged her daughter, Erin, out of bed and towed her along, as it was going to be her first contest and her first chance to compete and get to show off her laid back Malibu longboarding style. It was a beautiful site to see as we reached the apex of the bridge over the Intracoastal Canal at Surfside to see the long lines rolling in just before the sun was trying to peek over the distant horizon. There was absolutely no wind, and if any, it was slightly offshore. This was going to truly be a weekend to remember.

I dropped the girls off at the contest site, where the barely moving red flag signaled in the competitors for their sign-ins. After some quick stretching while I scoped out the surf, I was one of the first ones out as the sun had yet to rise and paddled out to the right of where the contest podiums were standing and headed for the spot where it looked like it was breaking the farthest out, a spot known as the OctaGONE (a misnomer for a six sided domed house that once stood there, marking the spot, that has since succumbed to the massive erosion that plagues Surfside and much of the Texas Gulf Coast). You could tell by the force of the swells coming in at 9-second intervals, and by the battle just to get out past the inside, that this was a truly strong groundswell that would be around for at least the whole day.

The first wave I dropped into was definitely one to remember. It was just as the sun was peeking over the horizon and it reminded me so much of the waves at dusk on the Pacific’s left coast. I dropped right and into darkness as the face of the well overhead wave blocked out the light of the sun and then popped back into the light as I worked my 9’6" off the top of the wave. Over and over again, light then dark, light then dark, until I reached the inside bar where it started to really jack up. I eased up to the nose of the board and grabbed my outside rail and prepared for the inevitable: a thumping closed out Texas green surf shack that sent me rolling through the washing machine, but dern it, I just love the sound of the inside of the green room, close out or not. I popped up with a grin that reached from ear to ear and stood up on the bar in waist deep water and raised my arms to the mighty surf gods in praise for sending us this much needed gift of respite from the tragic times at hand.

I drifted down past the contest zone before the first heat started, once I was joined by my other partner in crime, Leon, as we wanted to drift down and try out a spot a little to the north called the A-Frames, aptly named for a cheap motel with several A-frame constructed rooms- not to mention that the spot often time dumps really hard on the inside. We were fairly disappointed, as it wasn’t breaking very far out and nearly every wave was a total close-out and got tired of spending most of our time getting slammed onto the inside bar and into the spin cycle. So we walked way back south, past the contest that was in full swing, past the OctaGONE (which was now thick with shoulder to shoulder people), and down to the first dune walkover near a spot called Free Beach, aptly named because it is the only short stretch of beach you can park your car on right next to the long jetty.

The waves were breaking much farther out here, and unbelievably, there were only a few people out. We soon found out why. There was a massive school of cabbage head jellyfish that had taken over the entire area. Cabbage head jellyfish aren’t so bad, but the red ones (maybe females- ‘cause they can sting, but Carolyn said- then they must be males- hehee) can welt you real good. Almost every paddle was greeted with a slimy opaque sphere, and when we reached the outside, you almost had to put your entire body on the board to keep from getting hit by the bobbing slime balls. In each wave that jacked up on the outside from an incoming large set, you could see about 50 of the little buggers in the face. It made for some interesting take offs and rides, as you had to keep your balance as your fins slashed through the bothersome globes, stuttering your momentum. But it was well worth it as I had the ride of the day during that session. I’m a regular foot, and dropped left on what seemed to be just a regular nice lefty. The wave seemed to slow down, as did I, as it reached towards the inside section. Then the wave really jacked up and all I saw was a perfect lined up wall in front of me. I was three quarters up on my board, grabbed my outside rail, and pig-dogged it right through a true Texas green room, howling the whole way. I actually didn’t get closed-out on this time, and popped out the other end to the hoots and hollers of Leon and my other friends. Not too shabby, Gabby. That pretty much made my day…my week…my month.

It was getting late in the day, so I went back to the contest area to see how the girls did. The great thing about these two girls is their total stoke for the art of surfing and lack of hostile competitiveness. Both got knocked out early: the judges missed one of Carolyn’s best waves as she had drifted too far from the sight of one of the judges podiums, and Erin had to compete against three male groms in her heat (but she got third, beating out one of the guys in her first competition- we were pretty proud). Carolyn and I got up on one of the judges’ podiums, as they were in desperate need of fresh judges for the worn out judges that had judged all day long. It was great, as we got to judge four final heats including the men’s shortboard final, senior men’s shortboard final and grandmaster’s shortboard final. Some truly gifted individuals. The sun was setting and they decided to hold off on all the longboard finals until Sunday, as we knew the swell was dropping and it would be much easier to hold longboard finals in smaller surf than it would be for shortboard finals.

As the sun was setting, Carolyn and I went out for one last sunset session and caught a few really nice waves until it was nearly too dark to see. First in, last out. What a day. But we paid the price for our last session. The skeeters nearly carried us to the car on the way out of the water. Running the gauntlet, we quickly packed the car and headed to a friend’s beach house to stay the night. Over a great seafood dinner, we all reminisced over our great rides of the day.

The next morning, the swell was all but gone. We still had fun as Carolyn found a pack of brand new crayons on the road and we all contributed to colorfully decorating the one picnic shack on Free Beach, now known as the "Surf Shack," with surf drawings, surf graffiti and pro American slogans. We barbequed and reminisced some more of the great day before, watching the young groms still tearing it up on the little lines still rolling in. Ahhhhh, to be 60 lbs. again. The supergroms were putting on a show for their elders, showing off their prowess in the knee to thigh high swells. It was truly a great weekend to remember and a great break from the media and the sadness that had overtaken our great nation. But as always, this United States will prevail, and show our true brotherhood and fortitude. Thank you Gabby, and GOD BLESS AMERICA!!!