J invited me to surf County Line with him for Friday morning. It seemed like a good idea. I told him about the sessions at Porto lately, and that I wouldn’t mind having a break from gnarly surf. I told him that I could go for some clean four to five foot shoulders to practice my turns on. Also, I have never been there before, and Randy has always promoted me to surf as many different places as possible. Rick told me that it was better to stay at El Porto because it rarely gets really good here, and that it was a guaranteed bet for Friday. I met up with J in Hermosa at 6:40 A.M.
I met J surfing Porto. Actually, I truly met him when he cut me off at Porto one afternoon. He apologized, but I still gave him the “stink eye” (as they say in Maui). I kind of felt bad after, so we talked and chummed up. I ran into him again when I parked right behind him on the hill at 45th St., and since then we’ve hit it off.
We stopped at his friend‘s house, Paul, to coordinate. J let us in and pounded on Paul’s bedroom door; he was still knocked out. They checked out the webcam and decided that County Line was too small. Paul asked me how Porto was. I called Rick and he said that it was still fun out there. “I heard that you couldn’t even paddle out there yesterday,” said Paul.
I said, “Yeah, I surfed there yesterday morning and afternoon. It was pretty big.” Maybe I sounded like a douche saying that, but I felt that I had the right. It turned out that Paul is the organizer for the Santa Monica Surf Club. I scanned the pics that he had of their group framed on the wall. I told J that I was part of a little group.
J suggested Trestles since I have never been there before, and he said he’s never seen a bad day there. Why not, I thought. After all, Trestles is a world class wave. We got on the car pool lane and headed out to San Onofre first. It was small. We parked and did the famous walk down. I was invigorated by the trees, hills, brush, and leaves all around us. It was also interesting seeing the unwelcoming graffiti reminding us that the place is localized. Oh well … we walked on. It was a foggy morning, and everyone was on the sand and changing into their wetsuits. I talked to a random guy that just got in, and I told him that we drove down from L.A. He said, “Wow, I heard that El Porto was huge yesterday.” It was nice to hear my local break get some of recognition, even from the surfers at Trestles.
I wanted smaller surf, and that‘s exactly what I got. I definitely saw the potential there. It was two to three feet and really clean. There were scattered peaks everywhere, but the waves were breaking a little close to shore, the rides seemed short, and the waves were mooshy. There were still a lot of people there, and J and I had a peak all to ourselves. It was really foggy all the way from L.A. to Trestles. There was no way to indicate where the sun was; everything just looked gray. We caught a lot of waves. I was focusing more on trying to catch lefts. I only got one ride that gave me a good face to work with. I hit the lip and did my best to dig my tail in to get some spray. Instead I got some spray on the front of the face, rather than the rear. It still felt good, and it was nice to get to work on something that I’m trying to learn.
The waves never got bigger, and the tide rose which drowned everything out. I would’ve loved to see that place in bigger conditions. The peaks and shoulders looked so clean and perfect that I could only imagine what it would be like on a good day.
There were no showers, so we changed into our clothes all salty. It was a long walk back to the car with all of our gear. When we finally reached it, I noticed that the bottom of my foot hurt. I took a look and saw a one inch slice on the bottom of the ball of my right foot. It was deep enough that I saw the pink on the inside. I had a feeling that it was bad, but I was in denial. J wanted to do a second session in the South Bay, but I didn’t think it was a good idea. By that night I was looking at the moist and fleshy opening. I ended up texting the DRC that I wouldn’t be able to surf the following morning. I must have cut my foot on the cobble stone rocks on the way out. It’s so upsetting that I can’t surf this weekend all because of a fucking cut.
Well, It was still a good experience to see Trestles. Now I know where it is, and I know I will be back. As far as my foot, some things can’t be prevented. I can only let this monkey heal and be as careful as possible when paddling out or coming in. It looks like I’m going to be leveling up in World of Warcraft for the next couple of days to come. …
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