STAYCATION SESSIONS—TRESTLES: THU 7.21.2011 EVE

Crew: Solo

Time: 1700-1900, 2 hrs.

Wave count: 9

Conditions: Gloomy skies returned, the sun never came back. Cold, very light on shore wind, solid 3 foot surf, but frickin' crowded!

Where Am I again?:

     I had a dream that I was underneath a car doing some kind of repair, but when I tried to get out from under the car, the light from the sun blinded me. I could hear kids in the neighborhood playing, but I didn't want to freak them out in my current state. I called for my sister Jenny who I thought was near by. I open my eyes and find myself staring at the “oh shit” handle above the passenger window. Where the fuck am I? The neighborhood kids I heard in my dream are just kids playing in the sand. It takes about ten seconds before I realize that I'm sleeping in the back of my car. Odd.

     I'm so very, very, very thirsty. That Butterfinger Sonic Blast was a bad idea. My mouth is parched with the faint taste of ice cream; I need water badly. I sit up in the back of my car still half asleep. It's overcast again, and cool wind blows in from the ocean. I watch this older guy with a peak all to himself. He's falling really awkward, and then I notice that he's riding without a leash. He's good though. Right after each pop up, he walks the length of the board to hang 5 off the nose. The immediate weight-shift brings power and speed, but he eats shit. His board shoots in the air and coasts to shore. He's coming closer doing the swim of shame.

I look at the waves, feel the wind in my hair, and look down at my ashy legs. I wonder if I've wasted my day. While I'm at it, my life for that matter. Hmmm, all thoughts of a drained surfer who wakes in the back of his vehicle/cabin. I start the car and head to the snack stand. Instead of a water I order a large mango shave ice.

     The old lady working the snack shack is a total bitch to the little kids. I hear her as I'm crunching away. “The waffle cone is one dollar, if you order the ice cream by itself, it's three dollars.” The kids are silent and fail to respond. She continues, “So if you buy the ice cream, it's three dollars, if you want it in the cone, it's four.”

     A kid says, “Can I have the waffle cone?”

     She replies, “So you just want the waffle cone with no ice cream in it?!”

     Jesus H, I think to myself. Why are there people like that who work in places like this. I was just like those little kids dealing with cranky old people when I was young. It makes no sense. Then a father brought his daughter over to buy her some ice cream. I'm trying to crunch away again, and then I hear him bitching about the price. “This costs four dollars,” he says.

     The girl tells the old lady, “I'll have the happy birthday ice cream.”

     “No, no happy birthday ice cream,” says the old lady. She goes over the flavors that she has.

     “Do you have birthday cake flavor?” the girl asks.

     Unbelievable. I drive back to my parking spot with my shave ice in hand. What the fuck is wrong with people nowadays? 

 

An Evening Battle:

     I feel like crap after Sonics. Klaude texts me and writes: Garbage in, garbage energy. I look at Churches and see that there's enough room for me to squeeze in, but I wonder how my spot at the cliff is doing. I don't paddle there; I walk. Damn, surf looks pretty dismal. There's more texture on the water, but it really just looks flatter than the morning. I get to the cliffs, and no one is out. But I have faith, and I sit right where I did in the morning. It takes about fifteen minutes before a wave arrives. It's a right, it lines up well, and it's good for two turns. After that, a couple more waves come that break too close to shore; I scratch out. At the twenty minute mark my faith is gone. I look at Lowers. It's working; it always works. Lowers is like a wave machine. It can be shitty everywhere, Lowers will always have fun, clean waves, and there will always be people on it. I can go back to Churches and catch one of those little shit peaks, or I can be a Spartan and “go for glory” by slithering my way into the Lowers line up. I can hang outside and get the scraps. I hate crowds, but sometimes you don't have a choice, especially if it's the only peak that's working. There are no other options.

     I squirm my way to the outside, and surprisingly, some of the plus size sets are double wide. Even though someone from the peak is on the wave, his section closes which leaves the second wave rideable. It's bigger than any of the waves that I had in the morning. I can't believe that I'm scoring. I drop in and set up, I want to crank out the gnarliest top turn that I possibly can. Why? Because I want to prove my fucking worth. Yes, that's right, motherfucker I belong here! It's too bad that my over aggressiveness led to my own folly. I cranked out the top turn but lost control reentering the wave. My nose pearled as I tried to transition back into the pocket, and I fell. As Chick Hearn would say, “I put too much mustard on the hot dog.” It's crowded, and I'm embarrassed, but I seem to be having luck on the outside. I'm like a scavenger, a surfing hyena, pouncing on waves that others will miss. Another wave is going double wide, I turn and go, but someone yells at me, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” I miss the wave. I'm confused, no one's on my inside. It was my wave, right? It was some guy that looks like an AI wannabe. He's tatted up, a local. He paddles past me.

     With a hint of sarcasm I say, “Oh, I'm sorry, was I in your way?”

     “No, I just thought you didn't see me that's all.”

     I feel like I'm cursed when it comes to this, or am I the one that's wrong. I've always thought that, when paddling out, to paddle towards the white wash if someone's about to drop in on a wave. Isn't that good surf etiquette? It's happened in Bali and now here too.

     The scavenger technique stops working. No waves are coming double wide any more, so I have no choice but to be part of the crowd. I get into the mix and do a head count. There are twenty three surfers not including myself. Sure, Lowers is an A-frame peak, so eleven can go one way and eleven another. In a perfect world, everyone would share, but not here. Man . . . twenty three motherfuckers for one peak. Is that outrageous?

     Everyone sits in the same spot; they know what's up. A wave comes, and everyone scrambles while I'm still sitting outside of the pack. A random shift occurs in the the peak, for the next wave breaks slightly south by where I am. Awwwwesome! First of all, I don't want to surf in this crowd because these guys have probably been here all day. The last thing I want to do is be “the new face” right before the sun goes down. Second, there's no time for me to “ease my way in.” It's already late in the day, so I have to invade if I want to catch anything. Third, I'm not used to paddling to take away another guy's position. On this wave, there are three other guys going for it. I paddle as deep as I can to go right which forces the guy on my outside to back out. Meanwhile, I'm expecting the guy on my inside to go left, which he does, and we end up splitting the peak. It's my second chance at a Lowers wave. Two groms, a dude and a chick, are on the inside waiting to paddle if I fail. The waves at Lowers are so much better than Middles and Churches. It's so peaky, clean, bigger, and steeper on the drop. I slow my thoughts down on my bottom turn and calculate hitting the lip. When I do, I put everything into it that I possibly can. As I'm unwinding I'm pushing as much force as I can into the tail with my rear heel. The groms back off, and I get one more cranking turn before it's over. The feeling is sensational. But in the end, what am I really celebrating about, that I showed some groms who's boss? Am I celebrating because I battled it out with three guys on a wave that shifted off of the main peak? Or is it because of my awesome backhand snaps that everyone was “oohing” and “aahing?” Fuck . . . those groms have been scrapping for waves with the heavy hitters right in the lion's den probably all day, those dudes that I paddled against were probably scavengers just like me, and I'm sure that my performance on that wave felt better than it looked.

     Coming back to reality, I feel unsatisfied. I want one of the main waves. I've avoided crowds because I felt I wasn't good enough, but I mean, I've been to Bali. As I'm watching guys take off I know I have what it takes to paddle into them; the only challenge is the crowd. I remember what my brother told me about paddling: “Use your hands and your feet, be aggressive, if you really want it, it'll show, and people might back off when they see that.”

     I paddle forward and get on line with the guys at the forefront where everyone's sitting. I love outside waves, and I'm waiting for that pulse to shoot for. A small waves comes, people paddle for it, and in the distance there's a big set forming on the outside. I dart for it. It feels right, like I got a head start amongst everyone else. My paddle feels strong, and there's only one guy that's about to criss cross with me, but I have no idea what he wants to do. He's an older guy with a salt and pepper beard. I look at him, he looks at me. “Go, go, go!” he says. Fuck my life, the lip already seems to be curling. I'm trying to turn & go, but the crashing lip sends me straight too fast. I don't even know how the left or the right looked, but they are now gone and peeling away on both sides. I am splitting the “A” on the A-frame going straight. To save face, I at least stand up before I get off. I take the rest of the set on the head.

     What can I say? It was a humiliating moment. It was a defining moment completely missed. I feel like, that wave, if I got it, would've given me the respect to deservingly sit in the line up. And if not, then who cares? Mentally, it would have given me more confidence to put myself wherever I wanted. Also, it would've been a hell of a wave and a good story to take home with me. Instead, it's another due paid. Instead of a badge of honor, it's a badge of shame.

     I'm embarrassed again, and it's fucking with my head. How good was that wave that I missed? Who saw that? Did everyone see it? I try to think positive, but AI wannabe is the main attraction, catching every wave while everyone backs off. It's wrong to hate, but I do because I'm just a man, and I think that guy's a dick. I insert myself back into the line up. I'm not waiting for the big set. I just want a wave at this point. A peak forms and stands up fast. I'm paddling, splitting the peak with another guy, but I look back, and someone caught the wave late behind me. The section's running away from him, but I kick out anyway because, technically, I dropped in on him. Randy always said, “Just paddle for it, you can always kick out if you have to.” Well, I did.

     Every wave I go for has someone on it, but I manage to get one last wave that shifted off the main peak. In the midst of my saga, something else unexpected happens. I pull off a top turn that arcs so smooth that I pretty much draw a “C” into the face. I find myself turning into the pocket facing my oncoming wave. I have no idea what I just did, but . . . I think it's good? Since it's unexpected I don't try to rebound, and I fall.

     As I'm climbing back on shore I see AI wannabe with an old man and a grom, and then I tell myself that I shouldn't have put so much negative energy into him in the first place. I change, drive out the gates, get on the 5N, exit Camino Real, and go to Coffee Bean. I tell the guy behind the counter that I need something to keep me awake all the way to El Segundo. I tip him a dollar, and he throws in an add shot for free. There are still good people out there.

     The morning session was the true jewel, but it was nice to get a taste of competing for that Lowers peak. If I surf it again, I'll need to surf there from sun up to at least noon, but that's only if I want it. A good swell will sprout vacant peaks all over the place, hopefully soon. Oh, and my wave count was only 9 in two hours.

     It's a flat weekend of surf, and I've been away from home quite a bit. I think I'll take care of my woman and let my body recover.