SOUTHERN GAMBLE (double sesh), SAT 05NOV2011 NOON

Location: Churches

Crew: Klaude

Time: 1330-1630, 2 hrs & 30 min

Conditions: Calm wind, 3 feet with occasional 4, clean, low tide, consistent.

            After engorging ourselves, we head straight back to where we parked earlier. There’s an open spot, but some guy has his board and board bag lying in the middle of it. I turn on my signal and wait. It seems rude of myself, but the guy hurries to put his stuff away. I thank him as we pull in. What a difference a couple hours can make. The tide is low, exposing the shallow cobblestones that were submerged in the morning. Also, the wind has died, and the peaks are lining up much cleaner in front of Churches. Though a little smaller, it looks more fun. The guys parked next to us can tell we’re stoked, and they say, “It’s only gonna get better.” It’s a nice way to start the afternoon energy. Rick calls, we give him the update, and he tells us to hurry and get out there. The only problem is that my stomach is so full from those pancakes and potatoes. We take our time. While suiting up, a longboarder chick that’s packing up to leave starts talking to Klaude. I go into automatic non-cockblock mode and lurk in the shadows while they converse. Eavesdropping on the whole conversation, I smear sunblock all over my face and neck; some even gets on my chest. 

            Klaude wants to paddle out right at Churches. It’s probably the best option, but I am adamant on at least looking elsewhere to escape the crowd. We end up just south of Middles at the edge of Churches. The lineup is empty, and the prospects look promising. On the paddle out, I turn and go on a small little left. No turns, but it’s a fun little corner to start things off right. Once we reach the line, we learn that it’s a little bigger than we thought. Some plus sized waves break towards the outside leaving us out of position. It’s so odd. Trestles isn’t acting like its usual self. Some waves are actually fast with steep drops. 

            For the first part of the session, I can’t recall any standout waves for myself. All I know is that we must have sold the spot, because at least six people paddle out to crowd our empty peak. There’s this old guy probably in his fifties, bald, but fucking ripping. The problem with him is that he’s fuckin’ greedy. It’s not just Klaude and I, but barely anyone else is catching waves because of him. At the same time, how can you not respect an old dude that rips . . . more than you do? I paddle further north to get some breathing room. I keep looking back at Klaude, who’s switched to Rick’s Zippy Fish, to see if he’s catching. Half the time I can’t find him, so I know he must be catching a lot. At my new spot, I get back-to-back waves. Most importantly, I finally get a really good left. The ride doesn’t look like much, but I negotiate around the white wash, bottom turn, shift my weight to the tail, and get a little arc off the top. When I redirect down the line, my board feels bouncy and responsive; my feet are where they need to be. I pump, feeling the board come up under my legs as my knees adjust. I get one last turn at mid-face and feel my tail drift a little as my ride ends. Fuckin’ A, this whole day that’s all I wanted. Well . . . I would’ve welcomed an all day buffet of lefts like this, but I have to be thankful for what’s been given. The whole day, everything, this wave gives me the opportunity to do some front side work; I am satisfied. 

            Around 1600, the onshore wind turns on which makes the peaks long and racy. I see Klaude on the sand, so I catch a closeout in. He says, “Man . . . I’m so tired. I caught so many waves. My triceps even started cramping, that’s the only reason I got out.” There’s no doubt that Klaude got more than his fair share today, and my morning pessimism is erased by the afternoon surf. On the way home, we stop for some Jamba Juice and exit the 105 into El Segundo while the last remnants of light fade away. It’s a day of mixed feelings and emotions capitalized on unexpected good conditions in the end. It’s what gambles are all about.