CHURCHES--COMPLETELY BEACHED PT.1: MON 5.30.2011 MORN

CREW: Rick
TIME: 0700-0900, 2 hours.
CONDITIONS: light onshore winds, balls freezing pools of water, 3 feet with occasional 4, crowded, sunny.

    First off, the night that Rick arrived was pretty interesting. He recommended that we do some exploring up the beach towards San Onofre. I really wasn’t up for it. I was already wearing thin from the weekend, and I was ready to turn-in to my fartsack. Also, the pain from the cuts on my foot began to take their toll. Friday was when I cut my heel, Saturday I sliced the top of my foot with my fin, and on Sunday I cut the bottom of my foot in two places. It hurt to walk, but I didn’t let Rick know. I eventually gave in, and we strolled down the beach, randomly stopping at abandoned campfires that were still smoldering with heat.

    Once we got to the state beach, he showed me the hodad surf shacks along the shore line. It was the first time I saw them, and they were really cool. We ventured all the way towards the end and saw a pack of coyotes scavenging for food near the water’s edge. I was glad that I took the walk. Rick was my former platoon sergeant, and he’s always treated me like kin, so I appreciated the experience.

    My alarm went off at 0515, and this guy was already up making coffee. My sleeping bag was damp from the air’s moisture. We watched Churche’s perfect peaks roll through before anyone got out there. Rick suggested that we surf there, but I already had my mind set on Middles or South Lowers. He packed his backpack and was willing to check out my spot. It’s too bad that Middles didn’t look that good. We went back to Churches. By now the crowd began to arrive, so we paddled out north of the main pack. The water temp took a serious change, as the water was biting cold. I felt the energy sucked right out of me. As I paddled out, I could feel the muscles in my back and shoulders begin to ache in protest. It was time that they got some rest, and I was paddling out again for the fourth morning in a row. Rick lectured me about ditching my thruster for a fish. I wanted to show him that I had gotten better, but I didn’t know if I was up for the challenge. Rick got a couple waves before I even reached the line up--bad sign. My first wave was probably the wave of the morning. I got the rogue wave that luckily peaked in my area. It was only four feet but peaky. I caught it late and took the wave almost all the way to shore. I got three nice turns in, dishing some spray on the first two. When I returned Rick said, “Nice, Matt. I see you getting a little bit of spray now.” It wasn’t the validation that I hoped for, but I didn’t have much “umph” left in me.

    Rick surfed the rest of the session in the main pack while I remained north away from everyone else. All I can remember was that it was a tiring session. I saw Rick on the shore eating some hard boiled eggs. I caught my last wave, cut the bottom of my big toe on a rock, and we went back to camp.