HB―ALWAYS A CHALLENGE, WED 5.25.2011 MOR

Crew: Solo
Flake of the day: Shan
Time: 0800 – 1020, 2 hrs. & 20 min.
Conditions: constantly changing. Clean at first, then outgoing tide caused choppiness, then consistent four foot and fast peaks, etc.

    According to surfline, North OC had a 2-3 feet and fair forecast. It was better than what was predicted for the South Bay. Since I had to meet a seller for a 7'2 gun that my bro needs for Bali, it was convenient to head to OC for a morning session.

    After Tuesday's session, I extended the HB invite to my buddies. Shan said he was down and to pick him up in the morning. Of course, I woke up to a text from him saying that he couldn't make it. I would have to say that the flake ratio for surfing has to be much higher than any other art or activity. I can understand that getting up in the morning is a bitch, but it's funny how the level of commitment drastically changes from the day before to the morning of.  

So much more space than the Porto lot.

The road to getting your ass kicked

    I was on the road by 0645, faced a little bit of traffic, and was south of the pier an hour later. I can't remember the last time I surfed HB, but the scene was calm as always. There's no abundance of million dollar homes to your back (like Porto), the parking lot is wide open and pretty much vacant, the sand stretches a distance before meeting the water―you can't even see the water. The mid morning sun stood ablaze in its hour of dominance, my shadow was cast upon the path to the ocean. I've caught some really good days here with my brother, but HB for me has been the most challenging spot to surf. I was hoping for some mellow three footers that hold shape for long distances, breaking far on the outside. Well, since high tide was hours before, the tide was already shifting from mid to low. The conditions were fairly clean, but the peaks seemed a little close together for short rides, and a little racy too. The line up was thin, so I had to be happy about that.

    I paddled out at 0800 and had no one around for at least thirty yards to my left and right. The water had minimum texture and no current. It looked like an easy morning, so I paddled easy, watching the oily liquids on the surface slide past as I moved with the grace of a sea manitee. My memory gets a little blurry after this.
  
    The peaks were clean but just a little fast. I've always said that HB is more “pitchy” than Porto (at least to me). My pop-up was a bit slow to begin the session which resulted in an old and familiar theme of seeing the section run away. I managed to pump to the face on some waves for quick rides. Nothing spectacular happened for the first third of the session. Then the tide started to get sucked out which caused the water to get all wierd and choppy. It seemed like the session would be a disappointing one. Still, some peaks did form amidst the confusion, and I caught a wave to the inside when things started to change.

    The last third of the session started with what seemed like a nonstop barrage of waves. I was stuck on the inside and had to duckdive over and over again. I nervously watched the guys paddling into waves to avoid being skewered or barked out of the water. When I finally made it, two guys were talking about how good it was getting. Unexpectedly, even with the tide going lower, the conditions cleaned up again, and it was similar to the morning. I made sure to make a mental note of the time: 0925. The locals must have knew what was up because people started showing up. I paddled further north to get some space. The peaks formed cleaner, but still over a shallow tide. I remember wiping out and feeling embarassed amongst the locals, then I scratched out on a wave that I had all to myself because I paddled in on the “safe” shoulder. I sulked in my poor judgement, and even worse, the thought of that I may have passed up the best wave of the session. I made an internal pact to say “fuck it” and paddle in at the peak. The unexplainable forces from above gave me a “do over,” as another wave came my way. It was a fast, peaky four footer. I took the peak, dropped in with speed, and set up for a clean, first bottom turn. I got one more top turn before it was over. I took another peak on a left, and I made another mistake. I jumped ship too soon when it looked like it started to get hollow. I don't know anything about tube riding, but I regretted not tucking into face more and just going with it. Either way, it was low tide . . . risky.

    The “take the peak” approach didn't work on every wave. In fact, I had the worst wipeouts since school ended. I was getting pitched and even fell in front of my board on a couple wipeouts. Fuck . . . I was paddling back out, and this guy caught a wave just to my left. I had no idea how to get out of his way because he was so goddam close. Thankfully, he knew his shit, and he went down the line right in front of me. I swear, I try to avoid these situations all the time, and they still happen. I never want to be “the guy in the way.” I know that you're supposed to paddle towards the part that's breaking, but sometimes shit is happening with barely any time to adjust.

    The wind started to knock down the waves a little, and I was getting tired. Despite my own battles, I saw guys just paddling into waves and popping up with ease. I saw guys getting long rides, and the bottom of boards fully exposed from vicious snaps off the lip. To be a good surfer you have to be able to perform well in all conditions wherever you surf. I'm still a one trick pony, and I always have problems in HB. I was humbled, and my goal is to be just as good as those guys eventually.

    Satisfied, taking in the good with the bad, I walked that lone trail back to my car, the same trail I walked so many times with my brother that I now walked alone. The late morning was even more inviting. The desolate sandy beach lay unoccupied on both sides as far as I could see, the air was warm, the sun beat down on me, and a family cruised by in their bicycle cart with baby included. I changed out of my wetsuit to the faint whizzes of cars passing by on PCH. Silent with a peaceful smile on my face, I didn't say a word.