STAYCATION SESSIONS--TRESTLES : TUE 8.09.2011 EVE

Crew: Al, Kevin, Francesca (guard duty)
Conditions: 3 ft+, onshore wind, inconsistent, super high tide, warm.

Demobilization this time last year. Finally going home.

Military Bonds:

    My very first duty station was Germany. I was twenty years old and didn’t know shit. The daily rituals of military life were a given. Our leaders preached on the importance of serving the nation and emphasized hard on training. Although, most soldiers or veterans will let others know that the best thing about the military is the relationships you establish along the way. After each duty station and deployment, things are never the same. Good friends that become family come and go, and most of us never see each other again. In this case, my roommate from Iraq planned to camp at San Onofre. In an effort to keep these same relationships strong, I told him I’d be there to help him setup.

    I sent out a mass invite to see who else could go, but everyone was busy. Oh well. More waves for us.



Late Start:


    I usually get up at first light to score an early morning session, but Al is driving down from San Jose, so I have a lot of time until he gets there. Lauren’s not feeling well, so I opt to hang back to watch over her. I’d love for her to join me, but her job has her pretty busy nowadays, so I make the trip alone.

    I’m on the road my 1130. There are small pockets of traffic, but for the most part it’s a smooth and easy journey. Landmarks that I usually pass in the morning sun look different at high noon. I pull up to a busy campground and see a mass of black dots at Old Mans. I meet Al at the main office. His sister Francesca, who’s visiting from Ecuador, and his cousin Kevin are there. I haven’t seen Kev in a while, and I go through the introductions with his sister. We get our campsite which is right on the beach with firepit, water, and electricity.

    The onshore wind feels weak, the sun is out, and the water looks clear and inviting, but first we must get supplies at the grocery store. When we come back, we load the cooler and suit up for an evening session. Unfortunately, the wind picks up, and the tide is making things swampy. We walk in front of the crowds lying on the beach, and as I look up I see a girl waving in our direction. I look behind me in confusion and don’t see anyone. I continue to walk. I look up again, and the girl is still waving. I turn around again and ask Al what the hell they’re waving at. She points at me then waves again. There’s no doubt that they’re checking out Al’s lifeguard cousin Kevin. I say, “Hey, Kev, those chicks are checking you out. You better handle that.”

    “Which ones?”

    “Right there.”

    He looks up then looks forward again. “You mean those fat ones?”



Surfline, damn you!:


    Well, surfline can’t predict everything right? I blame it on the tide, but we sit just north of Churches, and the peaks are so long and crumbly that the waves shut down fast. We get turnless rides for about forty-five minutes before we walk towards Lowers. Al doesn’t want to deal with the crowd, so we paddle out again in front of the battle position. The waves there don’t seem much better, so I make my way towards Lowers. I sit just south on the outside. It’s inconsistent, but some peaks shift and build in front of me. It catches a lot of people off guard, so I get some nice right-handers to myself. Pretty soon Kevin joins me. Al’s stubborn, so he maintains at Middles where I can’t even see him anymore.
   
    There are some groms in the water that have a water photog with them; they are doing fish-eye shots. Kev competes with the wolves at Lowers, and I watch him pop up on a right-hander. One of the groms with the photog drops in on him. I see Kev looking at the kid waiting for him to kick out, but instead he continues to snake him and hits the lip to get his shot. Fuckin’ greedy. I have to back out on a lot of waves myself from guys on my inside, but I get enough random waves to make the session worth it. I share the inside with another surfer. I say, “So you didn’t feel like competing either, huh?”

    “No, it’s sooo crowded here. I’ve never surfed here before.”
 
    “Where do you usually surf?”

    “Oregon.”

    I’m surprised at this. It makes me think about Tom Leykis’s references: Porkland, Oregon, home of the other white meat. “How’s the surf scene up there?”

    She raises her eyebrows and says, “Uncrowded.”

    I can’t choose any memorable waves out of this session. If anything, our expectations are failed. We’ve been watching the surf forecast every day up until this moment to only find one break working: Lowers. Lowers is good, but we had hoped for more scattered, empty peaks. Without a choice, we were forced to deal with the crowd or bad waves.



The Real Experience:

    Back at the site, Kev hovers around the warmth of the fire. Francesca prepares the food, and Al has some sausages cooking on the grill. We eat hot dogs around the fire and listen to Francesca’s stories about Al’s drunken mishaps. I show them my Smores techniques, and we end the night with cookies and milk. At about 2330, only Al and I are awake by the fire. He asks about my journey to Bali, we talk about surf, and then the conversation moves to our lives and relationships. We’re here for the surf, but quality time with friends is something that you can’t put a price on either. I lay down my sleeping bag in the back of the wagon for a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, I plan to get up really early to catch the good stuff before too many people are on it.