Morning at Barb’s
By Mike Barad
I’ve been surfing at Barber’s Pt.
for about five years now. A little more consistently in the past two and have hit every
dawn patrol for the past year. Since the area has been turned into a state park, the
crowds have slowly but surely gotten bigger. Yet the same faces that I’ve seen for
the past years are still there. They come a little earlier now. They arrive before the sun
turns the sky a myriad of soft reds, purples, and blues. Their headlights come around that
dusty bend of a road and start filing into their spots. Trucks, sedans, a VW bug or bus
here and there and they all have the same thing in common, a longboard and a weathered
surfer still stoked at the thought of gliding down the green face of one of God’s
creations. I still don’t know all of their names, but the look of recognition is
there when our eyes meet in what little light there is. The usual head cock and smile to a
fellow dawn patroller follows. The air usually has a whispering breeze sweeping offshore
in the mornings. A cool chill, enough to make you puzzle about whether to put a rashguard
on or not.
Barb’s catches nearly any swell that hits Oahu. She’ll catch all of the South
swells and anything that the tradewinds cook up. The Northwest wrap usually takes a day or
two to hit, but Barb’s will catch and hold it just long enough for everyone to enjoy
those two foot rights in the mornings.
The sun is starting to kiss the horizon now so I put down my morning coffee and step out
of my Jeep. Ah. The smell of that salt air on a cool breeze is my drug and I take it in,
as much as I can each and every morning. My 9’0" woody, I can almost hear her
telling me to get her out of that blue and white striped board sock. She’s not a true
woody though, she’s a wood veneer epoxy model. She has a classic look with a modern
template. She’s beautiful, I fell in love with her since my eyes locked on her in a
Pismo Beach surf shop during a short vacation in California. I take her out, put her under
my arm and start that short walk to the sand. Most of the guys have paddled out or are
just finishing with their stretching. I can usually count the number of surfers out on a
morning like this on one hand and it’s the same for this particular morning. Five
guys, including me. I hear a short, high pitched hoot out in the water. Set coming. Like a
flock of blackbirds, I can see silhouetted shapes turn and paddle synchronized towards the
coming waves. I wait before stepping into the now reddish gold highlighted water. I wait
to see the stoke and utter joy on the faces of the guys riding this awesome little reef
break. There they are. For this one moment in time there is no stress about a job. No
worries about having enough money to get by till the next paycheck. No kids nagging for
the latest and greatest gizmo. Just them, on that wave, gliding. Whether it’s two
feet or six feet, that stoke is the same. We all know that feeling we all love that
feeling.
Now out in the lineup I wait for my wave. The one that will make my morning, my day. I sit
among these old salt dogs and wait. I see the long dark shapes floating over the golden
water coming our way. Someone to my right makes that familiar hoot. Another set. And my
wave is among them.
Michael Barad
Kapolei, HI