Last night I told Shan that I’d meet him at Porto at first light. At first light I was snuggled under my blankets with Lauren’s warm body right next to me. I shut off the alarm and told myself that I’d take a break from surfing. My left shoulder has been bothering me lately, I went to sleep late, I hade a little sinus headache, and the surf was going to be small any way. Shan called me and said he’d check it out later. A little after eight o’clock Cheryl and Shan text that they were already there. Klaude also called me and told me he was on his way to hang out. Well, there was no way I could’ve sat this one out while all of my DRC peeps had their toes touching the sand, and I was at home, butt naked with my pubes pointing out every which way. I told Lauren to get her ass in gear because we were going to the beach!
I called Jon and gave him the invite. As Lauren and I pulled into the Porto lot I saw Klaude, Cheryl, Shan, and Christina on the sand getting ready to paddle out. Lauren picked a spot next to Klaude’s gear. I gave that Japanese guy a hug and wished him a late Happy Turkey Day. He told me that Dais was on the way. All we were missing was Jon (our Token Mexican); if he was there we would’ve almost had a full crew.
It was small, but the conditions were a little better than yesterday. It was sunny, there was no wind, the surf was consistent, and the waves were thigh to waist high on the plus sets. There was a little crowd out, but everyone seemed easy, and there was enough for everyone. I greeted the rest of the bunch in the line up. Christina and Cheryl showed me their recent purchases. It seemed that I was the only jackasses that didn’t have any winter gear yet. I was amped from the cup of coffee I drank, and it made me anxious and over-excited. I was stoked to surf with my friends and to have Lauren with me (even though she wasn’t in the water). I already saw Shan catch a nice little left from the shore. He brought out his seven footer. Everyone else was getting waves except for me. Costco-Christina was paddling into waves, and Cheryl, AKA Fish Killer, was catching them with ease, too. I saw Shantasm paddle into a wave with only two strokes. Cheryl told me that her gloves helped her paddling. I guess they all have bionic paddling capabilities now. It was great seeing Cheryl catch so many waves. She’s the gnarliest female surfer that I know, just from the fact that she’s usually really consistent, and she’ll be the only chick in the line up at times.
The waves were kind of soft, and I was having a hard time getting the drop on some of them. I fell on a lot of waves; they were weak. I think I wanted to do more than the wave allowed, so I finally just drew a narrow line and focused on staying on the face and keeping speed. I had to freeze my stance on a lot of waves to make sure I didn’t lose momentum. My wave of the day was a right that I had to trim from top to bottom to keep up with the section. I think I stayed on that one all the way to shore.
I would turn back to wave at Lauren, then I’d wave at Klaude. Poor Klaude. I’m glad that he could make it out to watch us surf, but I knew that he wished he was in the line up with us more than anything. I told everyone else that it would be cool if we could push him on a couple waves, but any accident could cause a major setback towards his recovery.
Dais showed up and joined in on the wave buffet. We dominated a whole peak to ourselves. It’s rare that we all get a chance to surf together, and the energy in the water was positive. Just before 11:00 A.M. the wind and tide came up a little, and the waves got blown out and softer. Team CC (Cheryl and Christina) left first, then the rest of us followed. We shot the shit in the parking lot and decided to meet again tomorrow for the bigger surf. It’s supposed to be three to four feet tomorrow. Let’s hope they are right. DRC all the way, I’m glad to be part of this group
Saturday, November 27, 2010
DESPERATELY SEEKING SIZE: 11.26.2010 FRI
I was smart after my last session. I dried both sides of my wetsuit and even hung it by my heater to ensure I wouldn’t have a moist suit in the morn. I woke up at 5:30 A.M., suited up in my apartment, and was at the Porto lot right after it opened. On the way over there I could tell that the surf was minimal. Dockweiler and Hammers had small and dribbling waves breaking on shore. The tide was low, and the parking lot was deserted, except for a small handful of longboarders. I parked next to another guy who was just like me: sitting in his car, scratching his chin, phone I hand, and looking at the surf. It was small. There were some really clean waves, but they were barely two feet high. I looked, and looked, and looked. I text the whole DRC and reported my findings. Rick kept telling me to grab a longboard and to meet him and his brother, Manny, a little later. I cruised to 26th St.; it was worse. I drove to Manhattan Pier in desperation. No Dice. Literally, my friend Dais wasn’t there, there were no actual dice, and on top of that there were no fucking waves. It was just as small as Porto. I hoped for there to be some kind of shoulders off of the pier, but they were tiny. I saw the locals, too, just standing there debating. Everyone was a little sketch to paddle out that morning.
My problem was that I was already in my wetsuit, and I’ve never returned home in a dry wetsuit before, so I was obligated to paddle out. I text Rick and told him I’d be by 45th. When I returned, there were a couple more cars there and more heads in the line up, but I scored free parking anyway. I paddled out at about 7:30 A.M. I took the same peak by 45th, just like the day before. It was bright and sunny, and the sand wasn’t cold like yesterday, but the water was another story. Even though it was flat; the waves were clean, and at first the waves seemed pretty consistent. A lot of longboarders waited on the outside for waves, and right when I got to the line, I caught three waves in a row towards the inside. I got a nice left that let me pump all the way down the line for a long ride. I had my own peak and didn’t have to share it with anyone. The first half hour of surf was great, and the paddle out seemed worth it. Once eight o’clock hit, there was a long wait between sets. That long wait killed me. There was no need to move around; I just sat there and gazed at the horizon, searching, praying for a bump in the surface. I got cold. The cold was magnified by my stagnation. Another guy paddled close by and commented on the temp. I was able to get a couple more waves, but I had to call the session at eight-thirty. I got to the parking lot and was welcomed by Rick and his daughter, Jane. Manny flaked, and I guess Rick decided it wasn’t worth it. I was so cold that I didn’t bother to shower off or use my hot water bottles I brought, despite taking two hot pisses in my wetsuit. I got back to my car and was too cold to take off my wetsuit. I put a towel on my seat and drove off still suited up. I’ve never done that before; I was that fucking cold. I could barely even turn the fucking key because I couldn’t feel my thumbs. When I took a piss when I got home, I swear I saw steam coming from my dickhole.
I later found out that Cheryl, Christina, and Dais paddled out a while after I left. They said it was still fun. I thought that the wind was picking up when I left, but I guess it didn’t. It was an ice session with tiny surf. I guess, this winter, I’ll just have to get used to life without thumbs, and a life with steamy piss.
My problem was that I was already in my wetsuit, and I’ve never returned home in a dry wetsuit before, so I was obligated to paddle out. I text Rick and told him I’d be by 45th. When I returned, there were a couple more cars there and more heads in the line up, but I scored free parking anyway. I paddled out at about 7:30 A.M. I took the same peak by 45th, just like the day before. It was bright and sunny, and the sand wasn’t cold like yesterday, but the water was another story. Even though it was flat; the waves were clean, and at first the waves seemed pretty consistent. A lot of longboarders waited on the outside for waves, and right when I got to the line, I caught three waves in a row towards the inside. I got a nice left that let me pump all the way down the line for a long ride. I had my own peak and didn’t have to share it with anyone. The first half hour of surf was great, and the paddle out seemed worth it. Once eight o’clock hit, there was a long wait between sets. That long wait killed me. There was no need to move around; I just sat there and gazed at the horizon, searching, praying for a bump in the surface. I got cold. The cold was magnified by my stagnation. Another guy paddled close by and commented on the temp. I was able to get a couple more waves, but I had to call the session at eight-thirty. I got to the parking lot and was welcomed by Rick and his daughter, Jane. Manny flaked, and I guess Rick decided it wasn’t worth it. I was so cold that I didn’t bother to shower off or use my hot water bottles I brought, despite taking two hot pisses in my wetsuit. I got back to my car and was too cold to take off my wetsuit. I put a towel on my seat and drove off still suited up. I’ve never done that before; I was that fucking cold. I could barely even turn the fucking key because I couldn’t feel my thumbs. When I took a piss when I got home, I swear I saw steam coming from my dickhole.
I later found out that Cheryl, Christina, and Dais paddled out a while after I left. They said it was still fun. I thought that the wind was picking up when I left, but I guess it didn’t. It was an ice session with tiny surf. I guess, this winter, I’ll just have to get used to life without thumbs, and a life with steamy piss.
SWELL DWINDLING: 11.25.2010 THU
Even though the surf reports said that the surf would go flat, Shan and I were too pumped to pass up another morning session at Porto. None of us scored on the free parking this time around. I saw Ray in the parking lot before Shan showed up. By the time he pulled up, I was already in my wetsuit. I told him I’d look at the jetty, but if it didn’t look good that I’d be at 45th or the tanks. It was just after 6:00 A.M., so the sun wasn’t up yet, and the sky was still an unlit blue. My feet began to hurt as soon as they touched the sand; it felt like I was walking on packs of ice. The jetty wasn’t pumping at all, but the usual breaks were still producing some little rides. We got there before high tide, so the waves were about waist high. Ray and I looked at each other, and without saying anything we acknowledged the freezing sand. The water wasn’t much better either. Shan showed up with his surf gloves that he bought from 9star, and he praised them for keeping the water out of his wetsuit and his hands warm. I told him that my brother would look at me in disdain if her ever saw me wearing such things. We saw our little friend, the seal, on the inside. This time he was shaking something in his mouth. Indeed, he got a fresh kill. Good … good for him. I guess it was Thanksgiving for the animals, too.
We were catching the lefts from the peak off of 45th. They were soft, spilling, waves with medium power on the drop. That morning had a lot more surfers than the previous mornings. There were black suited figures all the way from 45th to Manhattan. Luckily, everyone wanted to hog the main breaks, while Shan and I had no crowd troubles where we were. The wind and tide picked up a little, and the waves got smaller and softer. It turned into a longboarder’s wave again. It was 8:00 A.M. Shan and I had the opportunity to feed the meter or call it a day. We decided that it wasn’t worth it and headed out.
It was a Thanksgiving Day session. We got some waves, but nothing significant. However, It was better than nothing.
We were catching the lefts from the peak off of 45th. They were soft, spilling, waves with medium power on the drop. That morning had a lot more surfers than the previous mornings. There were black suited figures all the way from 45th to Manhattan. Luckily, everyone wanted to hog the main breaks, while Shan and I had no crowd troubles where we were. The wind and tide picked up a little, and the waves got smaller and softer. It turned into a longboarder’s wave again. It was 8:00 A.M. Shan and I had the opportunity to feed the meter or call it a day. We decided that it wasn’t worth it and headed out.
It was a Thanksgiving Day session. We got some waves, but nothing significant. However, It was better than nothing.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
JUICY SECONDS: AFTERNOON 11.24.2010 WED
After Shan and I parted ways in the morning, my brother and I went to Good Stuff in El Segundo for some breakfast. I had to burn off a ten dollar gift card that they gave me because of hair in my omelet the last I was there. I had a huge carne asada and eggs breakfast. We watched Busting Down the Door at my apartment, dropped off Lauren at work, stopped by 9star, then we drove down Vista Del Mar to have another look at the waves. I thought that the tide would be too low and that the waves would go to shit. As we past by Dockweiler, we saw some heads out surfing the breaks that are usually waveless wastelands. We actually saw some rideable peaks at Shit Pipe and the man made jetties. It was a good sign.
We drove by Hammers and had a little look. We talked to a longboarder that said the waves were getting better. We heard enough. It was about 12:45 P.M., and we headed back to my apartment to grab our gear and go out for seconds. We parked at the main lot and decided to paddle out at 45th. There were more guys out now: the crowd that avoided the morning cold. The sun was pretty high, so it gave the ocean a bright, metallic-like, blinding shine. The wind was a little off shore, the water was a lot more settled than the morning, and there were some clean sets coming through. We were in the mix of a scattered crowd, but we still managed to get some waves.
My brother struggled at first, being in a bad spot. I got three good waves before my brother got any. I got a nice, head high, right. I decided to grab my rail, crouch down, and take a straight line as long as I could. It was a fun and easy way to take that wave. I also got two lefts in a row, robbing a guy on my inside that tried to drop in on me. I practiced carving the lip on my front side again as much as I could.
One sight, forever ingrained in my memory, was seeing my brother on this wave. I had just finished catching a wave and was on the inside trying to gather myself and my board. I looked in front of me. Here comes my brother, going backside on a little four foot wave, grabbing his rail, and getting mini barreled right in front of me. He looked determined and focused, oblivious that I was there, only fixed on the path that lay ahead of him. I stopped and watched, and I thought to myself how fun that must’ve been. I can’t read waves that well to know which ones I could do that with, or if I could ever pull something like that off. I’ve still never gotten barreled, ever!
At about 2:20 P.M. the wind turned onshore, people started to leave, and the waves got blown out. Some people were still parking and suiting up to paddle out. Those poor bastards. They definitely got the shit end of the stick.
My brother and I were satisfied. Another session for the Ramelb Brothers went down in history. By nightfall I was exhausted, dreaming about some front side carving.
We drove by Hammers and had a little look. We talked to a longboarder that said the waves were getting better. We heard enough. It was about 12:45 P.M., and we headed back to my apartment to grab our gear and go out for seconds. We parked at the main lot and decided to paddle out at 45th. There were more guys out now: the crowd that avoided the morning cold. The sun was pretty high, so it gave the ocean a bright, metallic-like, blinding shine. The wind was a little off shore, the water was a lot more settled than the morning, and there were some clean sets coming through. We were in the mix of a scattered crowd, but we still managed to get some waves.
My brother struggled at first, being in a bad spot. I got three good waves before my brother got any. I got a nice, head high, right. I decided to grab my rail, crouch down, and take a straight line as long as I could. It was a fun and easy way to take that wave. I also got two lefts in a row, robbing a guy on my inside that tried to drop in on me. I practiced carving the lip on my front side again as much as I could.
One sight, forever ingrained in my memory, was seeing my brother on this wave. I had just finished catching a wave and was on the inside trying to gather myself and my board. I looked in front of me. Here comes my brother, going backside on a little four foot wave, grabbing his rail, and getting mini barreled right in front of me. He looked determined and focused, oblivious that I was there, only fixed on the path that lay ahead of him. I stopped and watched, and I thought to myself how fun that must’ve been. I can’t read waves that well to know which ones I could do that with, or if I could ever pull something like that off. I’ve still never gotten barreled, ever!
At about 2:20 P.M. the wind turned onshore, people started to leave, and the waves got blown out. Some people were still parking and suiting up to paddle out. Those poor bastards. They definitely got the shit end of the stick.
My brother and I were satisfied. Another session for the Ramelb Brothers went down in history. By nightfall I was exhausted, dreaming about some front side carving.
THE UNPREDICTABLE JETTY: MORN 11.24.2010 WED
Randy planned to surf Hammerland in the morning. According to him, there has been a lot of onshore wind in HB, and that L.A. looked better on the surf cams. Shan said he’d meet up with us, too. I had a hard time sleeping, so I effortlessly got out of bed at 5:23 A.M., had a cup of green tea and watched some local news while I prepped my gear. I text my bro and asked him to bring some wax since I was all out. He replied that he would be arriving late, and to head out without him. On the way to the beach I drove around El Segundo to see if there were any liquor stores open that might sell surf wax; nothing was open. I stopped at the Chevron on top of 45th St., and they didn’t sell any either. I was in line to get into the El Porto parking lot when a parking space freed up right beside me. Lucky me, I had another morning of free parking. I turned on the heater to thaw out my sunblock and text Randy and Shan that if Hammers wasn’t going off, I’d be on the south side of the jetty. I combined all the tiny bits of wax that I had left and made the best of it. I greeted the long haired Asian guy in the parking lot. We exchanged names. It was Ray. We talked about how yesterday was good, even though he missed out. Another surfer chimed in on the conversation and added that he had waves all to himself yesterday morning.
I was on the sand a little after six, power walking to my destination. The water was a little crazy, meaning that there were scattered peaks everywhere. The swell was weird. The water wasn’t smooth at all. There were numerous scattered peaks all over the place, and the inside had consistent white water roaring to the shore. I took a look at Hammers, and it looked like shit. I went back on the other side of the jetty to assess the situation. The waves weren’t breaking off of the Jetty, they broke off just a little to the south of it. The tip of the jetty would jack up and have shape, but then it would bog out. I was all alone out there, and the Porto lot was barren enough when I walked through. I saw a lone dolphin a ways out, but only its fin. I paddled out alone and felt kind of “sketch” the whole time. I didn’t know if being out there was a good idea, then a lone head high peak came my way. It was an asymmetric peak that opened up beautifully with a long right shoulder. I was caught by surprise, so all I did was trim down the line. It was hard to believe that there were good waves like that out there, plus I had it literally all to myself. I turned around for more. I was even able to get some lefts that had more than enough clearance from the rocks. The peaks feathered at the top and needed to be caught a little late, but once on the wave the shoulders were more than rideable. I was able to work on my front side. Instead of developing my bottom turn, I was instinctively shifting my weight to carve the top of the lip. I didn’t pull anything ground breaking, but I started to get the feeling of aggressively changing the board’s direction on the top turn to get back into the pocket, then pumping my board to get down the line again. I felt the fetal stages of progressing more on my front side. Some fishermen showed up on the rocks, which gave me a false sense of security. A little seal showed up, popping its little head out of the water. It was chillin’ by the fishing line, probably trying to steal some breakfast.
I kept looking towards the Grand Ave. parking lot to look for my brother; it was still a little lonely out there. I turned around to my south, and I saw Shan holding his board up high, signaling his arrival. Right as I saw him, another peaky left came. It had a nice steep drop with a quick building shoulder. I pumped my board top to bottom, but I stalled when I failed to carve the lip. None-the-less, it was a nice long ride, and that wave sold the morning’s potential to Shan who watched from the shore. He paddled up and said, “It looks like Norcal up here, the way that the waves are breaking, and the rocks.” He was right. The scattered peaks everywhere gave an ominous look to the place. On top of that, it was really hard to predict and pick out the good waves. Some waves jacked up really far on the outside, but they rolled through and didn’t break until they were close to shore. Some of the most defined peaks hid behind the swell bumps, and only revealed themselves at the last moment.
Shan and I had a decent wave count, and still no one else arrived to join us, not even my brother. The inside was another story. There was no easy paddle out. Every time I caught a wave too far to shore, I got worked by white water. It took forever to get back to Shan. It was the groundhog day effect; I felt like I didn’t even move. I was lucky to get a little lull in the sets, and I finally got back. There was a longboarder watching us from shore, waiting for the right time to paddle out. He ended up trying his luck elsewhere.
I got a lot of air on the rights, but I’m not talking about maneuvers. Going back side, the waves built up pretty high, and I had to jump backwards over the lip to get out of the wave. The first time I failed, and my right ear got smacked by the curl. The second time I bailed out and did a back flip. Well, it was a half back flip. I landed in the water upside down, but it felt like I was in the air forever, and I remember seeing the sky for seconds before I landed. The third time I landed on my side. Shan saw it and called it a “back flop.” Those waves were perfect set ups for aerials, but that’s way above my level.
My wave of the day was another big left. This time I was able to carve the lip and do a half ass cut back. It was half ass because as I turned, completely facing the other direction, I failed to recover to turn back towards the section. Either way, it was something new, and something I hope to pull off with more practice. Towards eight-thirty the tide rose, and that waves took a lot of work to paddle into. They were breaking closer to shore. A paddle boarder showed up and started getting fun rides for himself. We figured we got the best that the morning had to offer, and we headed back to 45th.
There still weren’t many guys out. It was a cold morning, and I guess a lot of people in the South Bay just don’t believe in charging the Winter. I called my brother, and he said he didn’t bother to check his texts, and that he paddled out at 42nd because it looked so good. Most important, he said he had fun, which was all that mattered to me.
It was a good session. I was glad that Shan showed up to enjoy the experience with me at the vacant jetty. Surfing solo is alright, but it’s always great to share great waves with a friend.
I was on the sand a little after six, power walking to my destination. The water was a little crazy, meaning that there were scattered peaks everywhere. The swell was weird. The water wasn’t smooth at all. There were numerous scattered peaks all over the place, and the inside had consistent white water roaring to the shore. I took a look at Hammers, and it looked like shit. I went back on the other side of the jetty to assess the situation. The waves weren’t breaking off of the Jetty, they broke off just a little to the south of it. The tip of the jetty would jack up and have shape, but then it would bog out. I was all alone out there, and the Porto lot was barren enough when I walked through. I saw a lone dolphin a ways out, but only its fin. I paddled out alone and felt kind of “sketch” the whole time. I didn’t know if being out there was a good idea, then a lone head high peak came my way. It was an asymmetric peak that opened up beautifully with a long right shoulder. I was caught by surprise, so all I did was trim down the line. It was hard to believe that there were good waves like that out there, plus I had it literally all to myself. I turned around for more. I was even able to get some lefts that had more than enough clearance from the rocks. The peaks feathered at the top and needed to be caught a little late, but once on the wave the shoulders were more than rideable. I was able to work on my front side. Instead of developing my bottom turn, I was instinctively shifting my weight to carve the top of the lip. I didn’t pull anything ground breaking, but I started to get the feeling of aggressively changing the board’s direction on the top turn to get back into the pocket, then pumping my board to get down the line again. I felt the fetal stages of progressing more on my front side. Some fishermen showed up on the rocks, which gave me a false sense of security. A little seal showed up, popping its little head out of the water. It was chillin’ by the fishing line, probably trying to steal some breakfast.
I kept looking towards the Grand Ave. parking lot to look for my brother; it was still a little lonely out there. I turned around to my south, and I saw Shan holding his board up high, signaling his arrival. Right as I saw him, another peaky left came. It had a nice steep drop with a quick building shoulder. I pumped my board top to bottom, but I stalled when I failed to carve the lip. None-the-less, it was a nice long ride, and that wave sold the morning’s potential to Shan who watched from the shore. He paddled up and said, “It looks like Norcal up here, the way that the waves are breaking, and the rocks.” He was right. The scattered peaks everywhere gave an ominous look to the place. On top of that, it was really hard to predict and pick out the good waves. Some waves jacked up really far on the outside, but they rolled through and didn’t break until they were close to shore. Some of the most defined peaks hid behind the swell bumps, and only revealed themselves at the last moment.
Shan and I had a decent wave count, and still no one else arrived to join us, not even my brother. The inside was another story. There was no easy paddle out. Every time I caught a wave too far to shore, I got worked by white water. It took forever to get back to Shan. It was the groundhog day effect; I felt like I didn’t even move. I was lucky to get a little lull in the sets, and I finally got back. There was a longboarder watching us from shore, waiting for the right time to paddle out. He ended up trying his luck elsewhere.
I got a lot of air on the rights, but I’m not talking about maneuvers. Going back side, the waves built up pretty high, and I had to jump backwards over the lip to get out of the wave. The first time I failed, and my right ear got smacked by the curl. The second time I bailed out and did a back flip. Well, it was a half back flip. I landed in the water upside down, but it felt like I was in the air forever, and I remember seeing the sky for seconds before I landed. The third time I landed on my side. Shan saw it and called it a “back flop.” Those waves were perfect set ups for aerials, but that’s way above my level.
My wave of the day was another big left. This time I was able to carve the lip and do a half ass cut back. It was half ass because as I turned, completely facing the other direction, I failed to recover to turn back towards the section. Either way, it was something new, and something I hope to pull off with more practice. Towards eight-thirty the tide rose, and that waves took a lot of work to paddle into. They were breaking closer to shore. A paddle boarder showed up and started getting fun rides for himself. We figured we got the best that the morning had to offer, and we headed back to 45th.
There still weren’t many guys out. It was a cold morning, and I guess a lot of people in the South Bay just don’t believe in charging the Winter. I called my brother, and he said he didn’t bother to check his texts, and that he paddled out at 42nd because it looked so good. Most important, he said he had fun, which was all that mattered to me.
It was a good session. I was glad that Shan showed up to enjoy the experience with me at the vacant jetty. Surfing solo is alright, but it’s always great to share great waves with a friend.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE: 11.23.2010 TUE
Shan and I were supposed to surf yesterday morning. Of course, it was so cold when my alarm went off at 6:00 A.M. I squeezed Lauren for warmth, then I text Shan and said I couldn’t make it. Luckily, he didn’t make it out either. I was not going to let the same thing happen twice.
Last night we planned to surf this morning again. He told me that it looked shitty yesterday on the surf cam, so I didn’t expect much for the next sesh. My alarm went off at 5:30 A.M. I snoozed until six. I finally accepted the fact that I was leaving my warm and cozy bed for the dark, cold, yonder outside. I didn’t even want to change into my wetsuit in my apartment; it was so cold that there was no way I was stripping down. On my way to Porto I could see bushes and branches swaying in the wind a little. My first thought was that it would be blown out and crumbly. I got a free parking spot on 45th. The sky wasn’t lit yet, and the early morning still had a dark grayish blue tint. The world outside my car door looked biting cold. My car temperature gauge was at fifty degrees. I took a look at the water; it was hard to tell what it was doing. I saw some lefts breaking in front of 45th, slowly rolling to the shore. Not one body was out from what I could see. It didn’t look big, but it was consistent.
I text Shan. I didn’t want to lead him on, so I told him that it wasn’t exactly “firing,” and that I would be by 45th. While prepping my gear I realized that I forgot my wax and my watch. “Doh!” I used my comb to raise as much wax as I could. When I got to the sand I saw a couple heads out by 42nd and a couple more in front of the bathrooms. The lot was almost empty. Despite the frigid air temp, the sand didn’t feel like ice. I stood on the shore with 45th St. right behind me. As I watched it, a set came rolling through. It turned out I was wrong. Besides that one phenomenal September afternoon when there was six foot surf, this morning was the most peaky that I’ve seen Porto since I’ve been home. Some peaks were breaking so clean that you could go either left or right. Me, I was more interested in the lefts, and the lefts were going off. It was almost too good to be true. The waves were about four to five feet, and the peaks were so defined that the shoulder had a sharp angle and didn’t form until the wave broke. That made the drops nice, steep, critical, but leading to an open face at the same time. I saw this long haired Brazilian guy running towards me, trying to get first dibs in the line up. … Not on my watch.
I walked my board out and braced myself against the white water from the set that came in. It wasn’t freezing. After the last set wave, I jumped on my board and paddled out. Today was such an easy day for duck diving. I was lucky enough to unintentionally avoid the impact zone. Once I got to the line I took a look at the puffy popcorn-like clouds over Manhattan. This morning that sight had no significance because all I cared about was the oncoming waves before more. I panted and felt tired for no reason. My adrenaline boosted through my veins. There was so much anticipation within me. Yes, today would be a day that I would actually get some waves, and good ones at that! To add to my nervous energy, I had the peak to myself. How long would this last? I was like a child molester in a preschool. I finally told myself to relax and to get some waves while the window was still open.
I blew the first left that I caught, but what a sight it was to see it approaching: the undeniable bump in the surface, the pocket of the wave turning dark blue because of it’s depth, the building wall to my right, and the steep slide leading to a rising shoulder to my left. Something happened when I popped up, and my foot slipped because I didn’t have any wax. Next, I blew a right. Same thing. I paddled back to the line and told myself to make sure that I firmly planted my feet and to make sure that they stuck.
I got a lot of rides, but I’d like to write about two standouts that will be ingrained until I catch another wave, better. I got a head high left. It was magnificent and steep. It approached like a phalanx, determined to let its presence be known. Time stood still. I turned to paddle for it. The serious look on my face was fake … because deep inside I couldn’t believe that I had this delicious juicer all to myself. I popped up, and the shoulder was already building fast. I bent my knees and pumped down the line. I did my best to use the whole wave. I drew curves from the bottom all the way to the top. I didn’t focus on getting my rail in to attempt a crack at the lip; there was no way, I was just having too much fun. I caught that wave far. I saw the Brazilian guy paddle for it: one stroke, two strokes, then he backed off. I silhouetted over the top and came back down. I did a half ass attempt at a top turn and stalled at the lip. No biggie, I got a lot out of that ride.
For some reason, the couple guys that were to my left and right didn’t try to steal my position. I paddled right past them and went back to the best part of the peak. There were two guys about thirty meters to the north catching the left off of the peak from the tanks, the Brazilian was close by, and there were two other dicks a little south.
I caught a head high right that would be my absolute wave of the day. The peak was gorgeous; its shape was almost man made it was so defined. In the back of my mind I thought of Shan. Oh, Shan, laying in your bed counting sheep. So warm, so very warm and toasty without a care in the world. Oh, Shan, my friend, you’re missing out, I thought to myself. As I got the drop, I grabbed rail to keep myself at midline to build speed. Time stopped again. I made every effort not to fall. This was a beautiful wave with a long and welcoming section building before me. I pumped twice before I bottom turned. I projected up the wave. BAM, hit the lip. I came back down, same thing. BAM, another crack on the lip. One more time? Why not? Sweet, sweet bottom turn, don’t you stop until I burn. BAM! I turned around as my wave ended. The Brazilian and the two dicks were watching. Yes, I got that wave. Yes, it was fun. Yes, I hit the fucking lip three times on that one.
I’m not being cocky. In fact I know I’m still a beginner. I think I was fortunate that those guys weren’t rippers, which usually come out of the woodwork on good mornings like this one. Someone was nice enough to tell me what time it was. By 8:30 A.M. the tide was rising even higher, and the waves were getting softer and drowned out. The waves changed to favor longboarding. As I changed up the hill, I could see that it was still consistent, and it looked fun. I was just glad that I caught it in the early hours when it was at its best. I dominated that peak today. There could only be one, and it was me.
I told Shan that it was good. He told me that he’d check it out when the tide dropped. I drove by at one in the afternoon. It was drained, choppy, and blown out. I told him it wasn’t worth it. I felt fortunate. If I never had stumbled out of bed, I never would have known.
Last night we planned to surf this morning again. He told me that it looked shitty yesterday on the surf cam, so I didn’t expect much for the next sesh. My alarm went off at 5:30 A.M. I snoozed until six. I finally accepted the fact that I was leaving my warm and cozy bed for the dark, cold, yonder outside. I didn’t even want to change into my wetsuit in my apartment; it was so cold that there was no way I was stripping down. On my way to Porto I could see bushes and branches swaying in the wind a little. My first thought was that it would be blown out and crumbly. I got a free parking spot on 45th. The sky wasn’t lit yet, and the early morning still had a dark grayish blue tint. The world outside my car door looked biting cold. My car temperature gauge was at fifty degrees. I took a look at the water; it was hard to tell what it was doing. I saw some lefts breaking in front of 45th, slowly rolling to the shore. Not one body was out from what I could see. It didn’t look big, but it was consistent.
I text Shan. I didn’t want to lead him on, so I told him that it wasn’t exactly “firing,” and that I would be by 45th. While prepping my gear I realized that I forgot my wax and my watch. “Doh!” I used my comb to raise as much wax as I could. When I got to the sand I saw a couple heads out by 42nd and a couple more in front of the bathrooms. The lot was almost empty. Despite the frigid air temp, the sand didn’t feel like ice. I stood on the shore with 45th St. right behind me. As I watched it, a set came rolling through. It turned out I was wrong. Besides that one phenomenal September afternoon when there was six foot surf, this morning was the most peaky that I’ve seen Porto since I’ve been home. Some peaks were breaking so clean that you could go either left or right. Me, I was more interested in the lefts, and the lefts were going off. It was almost too good to be true. The waves were about four to five feet, and the peaks were so defined that the shoulder had a sharp angle and didn’t form until the wave broke. That made the drops nice, steep, critical, but leading to an open face at the same time. I saw this long haired Brazilian guy running towards me, trying to get first dibs in the line up. … Not on my watch.
I walked my board out and braced myself against the white water from the set that came in. It wasn’t freezing. After the last set wave, I jumped on my board and paddled out. Today was such an easy day for duck diving. I was lucky enough to unintentionally avoid the impact zone. Once I got to the line I took a look at the puffy popcorn-like clouds over Manhattan. This morning that sight had no significance because all I cared about was the oncoming waves before more. I panted and felt tired for no reason. My adrenaline boosted through my veins. There was so much anticipation within me. Yes, today would be a day that I would actually get some waves, and good ones at that! To add to my nervous energy, I had the peak to myself. How long would this last? I was like a child molester in a preschool. I finally told myself to relax and to get some waves while the window was still open.
I blew the first left that I caught, but what a sight it was to see it approaching: the undeniable bump in the surface, the pocket of the wave turning dark blue because of it’s depth, the building wall to my right, and the steep slide leading to a rising shoulder to my left. Something happened when I popped up, and my foot slipped because I didn’t have any wax. Next, I blew a right. Same thing. I paddled back to the line and told myself to make sure that I firmly planted my feet and to make sure that they stuck.
I got a lot of rides, but I’d like to write about two standouts that will be ingrained until I catch another wave, better. I got a head high left. It was magnificent and steep. It approached like a phalanx, determined to let its presence be known. Time stood still. I turned to paddle for it. The serious look on my face was fake … because deep inside I couldn’t believe that I had this delicious juicer all to myself. I popped up, and the shoulder was already building fast. I bent my knees and pumped down the line. I did my best to use the whole wave. I drew curves from the bottom all the way to the top. I didn’t focus on getting my rail in to attempt a crack at the lip; there was no way, I was just having too much fun. I caught that wave far. I saw the Brazilian guy paddle for it: one stroke, two strokes, then he backed off. I silhouetted over the top and came back down. I did a half ass attempt at a top turn and stalled at the lip. No biggie, I got a lot out of that ride.
For some reason, the couple guys that were to my left and right didn’t try to steal my position. I paddled right past them and went back to the best part of the peak. There were two guys about thirty meters to the north catching the left off of the peak from the tanks, the Brazilian was close by, and there were two other dicks a little south.
I caught a head high right that would be my absolute wave of the day. The peak was gorgeous; its shape was almost man made it was so defined. In the back of my mind I thought of Shan. Oh, Shan, laying in your bed counting sheep. So warm, so very warm and toasty without a care in the world. Oh, Shan, my friend, you’re missing out, I thought to myself. As I got the drop, I grabbed rail to keep myself at midline to build speed. Time stopped again. I made every effort not to fall. This was a beautiful wave with a long and welcoming section building before me. I pumped twice before I bottom turned. I projected up the wave. BAM, hit the lip. I came back down, same thing. BAM, another crack on the lip. One more time? Why not? Sweet, sweet bottom turn, don’t you stop until I burn. BAM! I turned around as my wave ended. The Brazilian and the two dicks were watching. Yes, I got that wave. Yes, it was fun. Yes, I hit the fucking lip three times on that one.
I’m not being cocky. In fact I know I’m still a beginner. I think I was fortunate that those guys weren’t rippers, which usually come out of the woodwork on good mornings like this one. Someone was nice enough to tell me what time it was. By 8:30 A.M. the tide was rising even higher, and the waves were getting softer and drowned out. The waves changed to favor longboarding. As I changed up the hill, I could see that it was still consistent, and it looked fun. I was just glad that I caught it in the early hours when it was at its best. I dominated that peak today. There could only be one, and it was me.
I told Shan that it was good. He told me that he’d check it out when the tide dropped. I drove by at one in the afternoon. It was drained, choppy, and blown out. I told him it wasn’t worth it. I felt fortunate. If I never had stumbled out of bed, I never would have known.
Monday, November 22, 2010
SURELY, YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS: 11.19.2010 FRI
My venture out to Oceanside was failed. I had hopes of clean, rolling, three foot shoulders, the kind that just let you play, experiment, and do what you want with them. That was not the case. Shan told me to meet him at Porto at six in the morning. I woke up late, and he was suited and waiting by the time I showed up. The lines looked long and crumbly. The tide was high. There were some soft shoulders, but the whole sections seemed to disintegrate. In front of the bathrooms there were some guys getting some lefts that held shape for a little bit. With our late start, we staged in front of 45th. Shan turned to me and said, “We should just paddle out to the peak and get the lefts; there are just newbs out there.” I felt a little too humble to acknowledge that fully. He continued with, “The real surfers wouldn’t surf these conditions.” Yeah, that was true, but what did that make of us? We were just some wave fiends, looking for that higher feeling of enlightenment in the water … we didn’t achieve it.
Our hearts deceived us, and we told ourselves that it was better than it really was. Even on the shoulder, the sections just crumbled away. It was disappointing; the waves have been disappointing overall as of late. We called it after an hour.
I’m longing for some good surf. I don’t need to get devoured by ten foot waves; I just want good clean surf. Will this disappointment continue?
Our hearts deceived us, and we told ourselves that it was better than it really was. Even on the shoulder, the sections just crumbled away. It was disappointing; the waves have been disappointing overall as of late. We called it after an hour.
I’m longing for some good surf. I don’t need to get devoured by ten foot waves; I just want good clean surf. Will this disappointment continue?
DESPERATE TIMES IN OCEANSIDE: 11.18.2010 THURS
I had a hell of a day ahead of me. My girlfriend wanted me to see the new Harry Potter movie with her and her friends at midnight. I dropped her off in Fullerton in the morning, then I headed out to HB to pick up my brother. We were running behind schedule. It was already 9:30 A.M., and we needed to get to Del Mar Jetty on the Camp Pendleton Marine Base. It was my first time driving there without Rick, so I was a little nervous that I’d lose my way. Once we exited the freeway and got on the base, it was actually really easy to find. Unfortunately, with us behind the power curve, the wind was already up, and everything looked choppy. The only good thing was that there was no crowd. We only saw two heads out there, and other than the Marines, the base is closed to the non-military public. There were a couple peaks out there, but one main peak was breaking in front of the lifeguard station. The peak was a little long and walled, and the shoulders seemed a little “racy.” My brother suggested that we check out the Oceanside Jetty. When we drove up, the locals were already massed in the parking lot. Randy brought me up to speed on the 0-Side scene. He told me that the area produces a lot of good surfers, even better than Orange County, and that’s because the waves there are better. He said that he pushes himself a little harder when surfing O-Side. Despite it being choppy, the Jetties had more peaks with some quick corners. From there we drove on to check out his favorite spot a little farther south by the residential area. That spot was the worst of the three. He asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I didn’t want to deal with the crowd, so he said we should go back to DMJ’s.
When we got back on base, the conditions worsened. The tide got lower, the peaks were inconsistent and less defined, the wind was just as strong, and there were now six guys out. We paddled out just north of the lifeguard station. I have never surfed in conditions so weird and unexpecting. The wind was going side shore, north to south. It made the chop and ripples come completely from one side. It also caused little whirlpools in the water. It was extremely overcast. There was a dull gray that blanketed the sky, and the fog made it difficult to make out the horizon. There was one little patch of sunlight out in the distance that shined on the oncoming waves. It gave them the appearance of metallic, bright, and shiny walls with little dark triangles on their surface. Randy already caught a couple waves. I was in the perfect position for a left shoulder, but the wind, chop, and strange appearance of the wave caused me not to even go for it.
After a while of sitting there and getting a feel for the odd environment, I finally went for some. The water looked horrible, but, surprisingly, any wave with a shoulder had an open face on it, at least enough for two or three turns. Randy said, “I can definitely see the potential in this place.” Yeah, it was shitty, but there were still some shoulders here and there. I wanted to work on my lefts, but I ended up going for more rights. Since the waves were fast, I had to grab rail to stay on the face, then from there I was able to get a couple cracks on the lip. It was still more of a frustrating session with long waits and a lot of sitting around. I was over it, but I saw my brother trying to make the best of the situation. He padded back in forth all around the line up to get what he could. I caught my last wave which was a left. My brother was already in the inside, done with his last wave. He watched me as I popped up on the shoulder. I pumped, but it seemed that the section was running away. It got a little hollow, so I penetrated out the back. When I got to shore, my brother told me that I could have made that wave, and he wondered why I gave up on it. I guess it’s good to have someone watching you to let you know what kind of mistakes you are making. I thought I couldn’t catch the section, but maybe I could’ve tried harder.
The session ended with unlimited all you can sushi at Hana Sushi in Oceanside. This was one of our favorite spots, and it was a long time since we last ate there. We put in two good solid hours, and my brother was tearing that sea urchin up! It was a long drive back to HB, then Fullerton. By the time I was sitting in the theatre, I was too exhausted to laugh at the grown adults dueling it out with their magic wands in front of the film screen.
Quality time with my bro, discovering new surf spots, and AYCE sushi. It was still worth it.
When we got back on base, the conditions worsened. The tide got lower, the peaks were inconsistent and less defined, the wind was just as strong, and there were now six guys out. We paddled out just north of the lifeguard station. I have never surfed in conditions so weird and unexpecting. The wind was going side shore, north to south. It made the chop and ripples come completely from one side. It also caused little whirlpools in the water. It was extremely overcast. There was a dull gray that blanketed the sky, and the fog made it difficult to make out the horizon. There was one little patch of sunlight out in the distance that shined on the oncoming waves. It gave them the appearance of metallic, bright, and shiny walls with little dark triangles on their surface. Randy already caught a couple waves. I was in the perfect position for a left shoulder, but the wind, chop, and strange appearance of the wave caused me not to even go for it.
After a while of sitting there and getting a feel for the odd environment, I finally went for some. The water looked horrible, but, surprisingly, any wave with a shoulder had an open face on it, at least enough for two or three turns. Randy said, “I can definitely see the potential in this place.” Yeah, it was shitty, but there were still some shoulders here and there. I wanted to work on my lefts, but I ended up going for more rights. Since the waves were fast, I had to grab rail to stay on the face, then from there I was able to get a couple cracks on the lip. It was still more of a frustrating session with long waits and a lot of sitting around. I was over it, but I saw my brother trying to make the best of the situation. He padded back in forth all around the line up to get what he could. I caught my last wave which was a left. My brother was already in the inside, done with his last wave. He watched me as I popped up on the shoulder. I pumped, but it seemed that the section was running away. It got a little hollow, so I penetrated out the back. When I got to shore, my brother told me that I could have made that wave, and he wondered why I gave up on it. I guess it’s good to have someone watching you to let you know what kind of mistakes you are making. I thought I couldn’t catch the section, but maybe I could’ve tried harder.
The session ended with unlimited all you can sushi at Hana Sushi in Oceanside. This was one of our favorite spots, and it was a long time since we last ate there. We put in two good solid hours, and my brother was tearing that sea urchin up! It was a long drive back to HB, then Fullerton. By the time I was sitting in the theatre, I was too exhausted to laugh at the grown adults dueling it out with their magic wands in front of the film screen.
Quality time with my bro, discovering new surf spots, and AYCE sushi. It was still worth it.
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