Judges Vieth, Morgan, and Rusty. Photographer Unknown
By Morgan Sliff
200. Nearing two thirds of the way, and this was certainly a day to remember.
I received a call the previous night from surf contest beach marshalll Wright Adaza asking if I wanted to judge a comp in Santa Monica, and when I heard it was Marion Clark’s contest (the world champion surfer Mary Setterholm’s daughter) I nearly jumped up and down and tried not to scream “YES!” A 6:30 a.m. pick up and short drive to the 24th street tower had me and driver Wright almost in tears, listening to hilarious old surf stories from Mike Purpus the entire way to the sand. We got settled and I plopped down next to my co judges Rusty and Vieth, it being my first time judging and learning what I could from the vets. If I wasn’t able to surf my brains out because of my shoulder injury, at least I was getting to lay around on the beach and watch some kids rip.
After 4 hours in the judges’ tent, stories shared, and watching lots of shredding groms, we trekked back to Hermosa (with of course more knee-slapping tales from Purpus), and my best friend and all around awesome chick Casey Lewis met me at my house immediately, ready to help me get in the water in my nearly broken state.
Casey and Morgan on day 200. Photo by 10 second iPhone timer
We quickly spilled out the last week of our lives to each other, nonstop chatting on a short drive to Topaz in Redondo Beach, after arriving Casey graciously carrying my heavy log down to the beach. I ripped off my sling and she bravely jumped in the icy Pacific with me, also without the warmth of a wetsuit (my still horribly strained rotator cuff preventing me from being able to put a wetsuit on).
Babying my injury for fear of it getting worse, my incredible friend pushed me into a few waves, and once I got my quota, I cruised out while she paddled into some low tide glassy waves herself, the 80 degree sunshine beating down on us like it was summertime.
Dr Scale working his magic. Photo by Jose Barahona
After home and shower, I found myself with my guardian angel and shaper Jose Barahona at Dr Scale’s office in Manhattan beach, who agreed to see me on a Saturday to try and put me back together. Dr Scale is the sports doc for the USC football team and has helped Jose with many injuries, and I felt lucky to be in his healing hands. The doctor put me down on his table, contorted me around in different positions, cracks sounding off like fireworks, and he proceeded to bend, stretch, and massage muscles that I had weakened by keeping my arm confined to a sling. At the end of the session, I teared up and hugged the doctor and Jose, in disbelief that the arm I couldn’t move for the past three days I was raising over my head, range of motion almost completely back. Not going to cherry-coat it, it was a painful process, there was some digging, and surely some held back tears, but at the end I felt a thousand percent better than I had felt only an hour before.
And now, it’s time to pack. Apart from being excited to lay in the sun in Nicaragua for 4 days, I’m overwhelmed with excitement that I actually can pack… using both arms.
