NEGATIVE ENERGY: WED 1.05.2011 EVE
CREW: RANDY
TIME: 1330 -1500, 1.5 hrs..
WIND: Offshore, slightly side shore
WATER: Going mid to low tide, cold but sunny, shallow on the inside, crowded with rippers, head high to overhead, walled with some corners to pick out, barreling if you were good enough for them.
Randy came over at about noon. I had to break the news to him about what happened to the JSI. I saw the look of disappointment on his face. I explained what happened. He said, “The rule of thumb is to NEVER ditch your board because it could come back and hit you, and it could hit the guy behind you. You can still duckdive eight to ten foot waves.” Fuck, I thought to myself. I felt like that wave was too big for me. I was mad at myself, and I felt like shit. If there has ever been anyone that had a huge influence on me, it’s my big brother, and I hate to ever let him down. Lesson learned. He said that the damage was done in the worst spot because my heel will be on that area, and that the board won’t last long. I immediately got on the horn and asked Rick for a late birthday present to do some fiberglass augmentation. He told me to let it dry out and bring it by. I’m so lucky to have those guys around.
My brother missed out on the morning sesh, so it wasn’t long before we were out again. On the way to Porto we took a look at Hammers. We saw a perfect, barreling, left come rolling through. He said, “Right there, I want to surf that wave!” We went to the Grand lot and parked at the meters. I forgot that the meters there are only good for an hour and a half. There were already a lot of surfers there; some were struggling with the parking pass machines. I sent a courtesy text to Shan, then we walked to Hammers and watched the waves. There were a lot of people at the point, and we saw guys getting barreled but not making it out. Despite the crowd, it looked like we would have a chance if we sat on the shoulder; the smaller waves actually had better shape, but there were still a lot of walls. I didn’t feel good about being on the sand again with the Merrick. That board just felt so huge, especially since I’ve been testing out the JSI lately. The water was unexpectedly shallow, which made the paddle out fairly short. Guys were perched at the peak and actually making the barrels. The cool thing about the peak was that it was still producing long rides, even without the set. Randy got some rides, but he didn’t feel like competing with the crowd at the peak, so he sat a little north of it. There was an old timer with long gray hair getting some good barrel rides. I had the best show in the house. Everyone let that guy through and gave him respect. He was with a younger guy that was getting barreled, too. They had a water cameraman in the mix with them. There were people on the shore watching alongside with the lifeguards. Me … I wasn’t catching shit. I was so far from the peak that I was close to a right hand peak. There were some waves that I went for that were too walled; the low tide was to blame. I went for my first wave, a right, and I got pitched over before I could even attempt a pop up. I’m not sure how many people saw that. Next, I paddled for what looked like a workable left shoulder, and I got pounded again. I got really passive at that point. I still wasn’t over the disappointment of what happened in the morning. I felt like I was on the wrong board for those conditions; but in reality, I was the wrong surfer for those conditions. Only good surfers were out there. They were all competing at that peak. My brother told me that some guys were arguing because someone got dropped in on.
I finally caught a left. The waves were deceiving. Even though I was sitting at the shoulder, they would jack up and get bigger as I paddled for them. I just remember dropping in, being grateful for sticking the drop, looking up at the crashing lip, then straightening out to avoid oblivion. After that wave I wiped out one more time. A rogue wave came. Every surfer was paddling to the outside. That one younger guy that was being filmed was the only guy to go for that wave. What ability, I thought. It was a huge wall, a straight closeout, and he still paddled into it just to get a shot of him in the barrel. He emerged after the explosion like it was nothing. Amazing.
I was over it, and so was my brother. After an hour and a half we left. I just wasn’t feeling it. I was already defeated before I paddled out there. The conditions didn’t seem right, except at the peak which was too crowded. Negative feelings ran through me. I felt like I was outclassed, I didn’t belong out there, I was a coward for not going for those waves, I sat on the outside like a bitch, and I wasn’t good enough to get those waves. I felt like a pure Barney, like I regressed back to day one of fucking surfing. I was so ashamed that I didn’t paddle in where the lifeguard tower was. I tucked my tail and paddled further north (away from everyone) before I went back to the shore.
I’m still upset with myself now. Randy said I could take the 6’2 hand me down that he gave me tomorrow if I don’t like the Merrick. I hope I can redeem myself tomorrow, at least a little. Oh, and I talked to Shan. He said he got a five second tube ride at the jetty, and that he was there at 1500. He showed up just as we left. Oh well. Next time.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
EL PORTO VERSUS MY JSI BOARD: WED 1.05.2011 MORN
CREW: J
TIME: 0645- 0700, 1.25 hrs..
WIND: Offshore
WATER: Going mid to high tide, freezing cold water, long ass paddle out, seriously crowded, head high to overhead, walled with some corners to pick out, barreling if you were good enough for them.
I actually didn’t know what to expect when I woke up this morning. I just knew that Porto has been pumping lately, and that I expected there to be some kind of surf. I had no idea. …
Shan hit me up the night before and said he would be there in the morning. Of course, everyone I know has a ninety percent flake rate, which meant Shan wasn’t going to show up, and as predicted, he didn’t. I don’t expect much from anyone any more. J was already parked when I showed up. He handed me a New Year’s gift: Taylor Steele’s Campaign 2. I told him that my birthday was on the twenty-ninth, so it would count as a birthday gift. His two friends, Taylor and Virginia, were there, too. I got the quick introduction, but they won’t remember me.
It was still dark when we got to the shore, but there was enough light to start paddling out. They went ahead of me, but I watched the water for a little bit. As soon as I saw the lull I ran into the water and paddled furiously. Even though the inside wasn’t raging, the white wash had some power behind it. I ducked dive a couple waves and got pushed back a little. The set still wasn’t there, so I kept paddling to beat it. It was actually a long paddle to get to the line. I had just caught up with J by the time I reached it, and I beat another guy that paddled out with me.
I tried to get a feel for what the water was doing, but I didn’t do a good job at that. A right jacked up in the distance, and I turned around to paddle for it. When I realized I was too late, I tried to turn around … I didn’t make it. The wave still sucked me down into its impact zone. It wasn’t a good way to start the session: a gnarly wipeout on a wave that I tried to get out of and didn’t commit to. When I got back to the line there were already swarms of people paddling out. I watched J get a couple waves, and I still didn’t have shit. I watched 42nd go off. There were barreling lefts coming through. Everyone in the line reacted to them by gasping, making noise, and cheering the surfers on. One guy yelled, “They just need to pull up in the face to get in the barrel!” He said that because a lot of guys stuck the landing, but the hollow barrel went unridden. Also, there were guys getting chomped on by the closing barrels.
The current was going south, and everyone kept paddling north to stay at 45th. I finally had enough and paddled more north to the thinner crowd. I ended up by Taylor when a right finally came my way. He was right in front of me as I paddled for it. I barely had the inside position, but he backed off and let me have it. I found myself grabbing my rail and making a difficult drop. I pointed my nose down the face of the wave. When I looked up I saw a guy bobbing in the water with his board floating next to him; I was on a direct course to joust him. We both saw each other, and I had to ditch my board to avoid the worst. I was underwater for a while, but I remained calm and climbed my leash to the surface. Initially, I was pissed off. He immediately said, “I’m sorry, Man, for being in your way.” I was going to paddle away pissed off and not even acknowledge him, then I thought about all the times that I’ve been in his situation.
I said, “It’s alright,” and I went back to the line. I sat there in the lull, upset, grasping my board, and looking at its wax job. He paddled past me and apologized again. Unfortunately, that was my only potential wave of the day.
I tested the inside a little and scratched out on a wave. When I looked out at the ocean I saw a walled rogue jacking up. I said, “Oh shit!” and paddled as hard as I could to the outside. It made no difference. A lot of people were in the same predicament as I. The wave was overhead, and I lied on my board as I watched the lip about to come crashing down on me. It’s no secret that I have the shittiest duckdive in El Segundo, and I’ve done my best to work on it. Lately, I’ve made some major improvements, but I felt that there was no way that I could’ve duckdived this wave. First, it was big. Second, I was right at the impact zone. Third, I’ve had bad experiences of holding onto boards during an underwater wipeout. If the wave is too big, I’ll usually ditch my board. I went through the washing machine as that wave went through. I resurfaced, grabbed my board, and made it to the line. I noticed that my leash didn’t have much slack on it; I thought it was caught on the fins. When I followed the leash, I found that it cut into the left side of my rail, all the way to the traction pad. The traction pad actually stopped the leash from cutting in deeper. The traction pad actually bent from the force of the leash. It was a sad site. My leash was buried in there tight, and it took some strength to get it out. That was the end of my session. I paddled further north to get away from the peak and the crowd. I ran into Manny and gave him a wave. He was with his crew. I paddled to shore and took a closer look. I lost a lot of foam; it was bad. I fucked up my new fucking board that my brother gave me as an early birthday gift. That board has so much sentimental value, and in twelve days I already damaged it twice. As I changed I looked out and saw the conditions getting better with nice reformed sections happening on the inside. I watched other guys get nice carves on open faces. I was mad and jealous. My only wave of the day was cut short by a guy that was in my way, and I fucked up the best board I’ve ever had. That negative energy would follow me throughout the day. This has been the worst streak of bad luck that I’ve ever had with a board. However, life could be worse. There are people out there that don’t even have food to eat, and here I am bitching about a busted board. Life is good, but I’m still bummed.
TIME: 0645- 0700, 1.25 hrs..
WIND: Offshore
WATER: Going mid to high tide, freezing cold water, long ass paddle out, seriously crowded, head high to overhead, walled with some corners to pick out, barreling if you were good enough for them.
I actually didn’t know what to expect when I woke up this morning. I just knew that Porto has been pumping lately, and that I expected there to be some kind of surf. I had no idea. …
Shan hit me up the night before and said he would be there in the morning. Of course, everyone I know has a ninety percent flake rate, which meant Shan wasn’t going to show up, and as predicted, he didn’t. I don’t expect much from anyone any more. J was already parked when I showed up. He handed me a New Year’s gift: Taylor Steele’s Campaign 2. I told him that my birthday was on the twenty-ninth, so it would count as a birthday gift. His two friends, Taylor and Virginia, were there, too. I got the quick introduction, but they won’t remember me.
It was still dark when we got to the shore, but there was enough light to start paddling out. They went ahead of me, but I watched the water for a little bit. As soon as I saw the lull I ran into the water and paddled furiously. Even though the inside wasn’t raging, the white wash had some power behind it. I ducked dive a couple waves and got pushed back a little. The set still wasn’t there, so I kept paddling to beat it. It was actually a long paddle to get to the line. I had just caught up with J by the time I reached it, and I beat another guy that paddled out with me.
I tried to get a feel for what the water was doing, but I didn’t do a good job at that. A right jacked up in the distance, and I turned around to paddle for it. When I realized I was too late, I tried to turn around … I didn’t make it. The wave still sucked me down into its impact zone. It wasn’t a good way to start the session: a gnarly wipeout on a wave that I tried to get out of and didn’t commit to. When I got back to the line there were already swarms of people paddling out. I watched J get a couple waves, and I still didn’t have shit. I watched 42nd go off. There were barreling lefts coming through. Everyone in the line reacted to them by gasping, making noise, and cheering the surfers on. One guy yelled, “They just need to pull up in the face to get in the barrel!” He said that because a lot of guys stuck the landing, but the hollow barrel went unridden. Also, there were guys getting chomped on by the closing barrels.
The current was going south, and everyone kept paddling north to stay at 45th. I finally had enough and paddled more north to the thinner crowd. I ended up by Taylor when a right finally came my way. He was right in front of me as I paddled for it. I barely had the inside position, but he backed off and let me have it. I found myself grabbing my rail and making a difficult drop. I pointed my nose down the face of the wave. When I looked up I saw a guy bobbing in the water with his board floating next to him; I was on a direct course to joust him. We both saw each other, and I had to ditch my board to avoid the worst. I was underwater for a while, but I remained calm and climbed my leash to the surface. Initially, I was pissed off. He immediately said, “I’m sorry, Man, for being in your way.” I was going to paddle away pissed off and not even acknowledge him, then I thought about all the times that I’ve been in his situation.
I said, “It’s alright,” and I went back to the line. I sat there in the lull, upset, grasping my board, and looking at its wax job. He paddled past me and apologized again. Unfortunately, that was my only potential wave of the day.
I tested the inside a little and scratched out on a wave. When I looked out at the ocean I saw a walled rogue jacking up. I said, “Oh shit!” and paddled as hard as I could to the outside. It made no difference. A lot of people were in the same predicament as I. The wave was overhead, and I lied on my board as I watched the lip about to come crashing down on me. It’s no secret that I have the shittiest duckdive in El Segundo, and I’ve done my best to work on it. Lately, I’ve made some major improvements, but I felt that there was no way that I could’ve duckdived this wave. First, it was big. Second, I was right at the impact zone. Third, I’ve had bad experiences of holding onto boards during an underwater wipeout. If the wave is too big, I’ll usually ditch my board. I went through the washing machine as that wave went through. I resurfaced, grabbed my board, and made it to the line. I noticed that my leash didn’t have much slack on it; I thought it was caught on the fins. When I followed the leash, I found that it cut into the left side of my rail, all the way to the traction pad. The traction pad actually stopped the leash from cutting in deeper. The traction pad actually bent from the force of the leash. It was a sad site. My leash was buried in there tight, and it took some strength to get it out. That was the end of my session. I paddled further north to get away from the peak and the crowd. I ran into Manny and gave him a wave. He was with his crew. I paddled to shore and took a closer look. I lost a lot of foam; it was bad. I fucked up my new fucking board that my brother gave me as an early birthday gift. That board has so much sentimental value, and in twelve days I already damaged it twice. As I changed I looked out and saw the conditions getting better with nice reformed sections happening on the inside. I watched other guys get nice carves on open faces. I was mad and jealous. My only wave of the day was cut short by a guy that was in my way, and I fucked up the best board I’ve ever had. That negative energy would follow me throughout the day. This has been the worst streak of bad luck that I’ve ever had with a board. However, life could be worse. There are people out there that don’t even have food to eat, and here I am bitching about a busted board. Life is good, but I’m still bummed.
UNMET EXPECTATIONS: TUE 1.04.2011 MORN
UNMET EXPECTATIONS: TUE 1.04.2011 MORN
CREW: Randy
TIME: 1000 - 1230, 2 hrs..
WIND: Offshore
WATER: Going from high to low tide, inconsistent, unpredictable, needed cloud break to catch waves … odd. Chest high on plus sets.
After Monday’s phenomenal conditions at Porto, Randy and I deliberated on where to surf. He did his homework and decided to head to Del Mar Jetty. We timed our arrival to catch the tide going from high to low. When we arrived there wasn’t one surfer out there. The offshore winds were howling, and the high tide made the waves look mooshy. We saw a plus sized set come through just under head high. It was mooshy, but still fun with some nice shoulders. We were pretty pumped. It didn’t look like a gnarly day, and I was looking forward to working on some turns on the JSI board.
As soon as we got to the line up, everything changed for some reason. There was a long wait for that big set to come. Then, the peak that we paddled to didn’t produce anything. We paddled back, forth, to, and from to try to sniff out the waves. When they did come, they were too mooshy and broke late. Randy told me that he figured it out, and that we had to catch the waves as soon as they were cloud breaking in order to get pushed into them. The surf seemed to pick up again. I got a small handful of rides, and I didn’t get the best out of them. On at least two waves, the off shore winds sprayed my face full of water; I was popping up blind. Those rides were wastes. A couple other waves that I caught didn’t have much power behind them. My best ride was a right that finally opened up for me. I got to pump my board a couple times and did a top turn at the lip. I was happy to get that one good ride to justify making the session worth it.
Meanwhile, my brother was able to paddle into waves that seemed too soft to paddle into. He got some really long rides all the way to shore. That was pure proof that it’s always more about the surfer than the conditions or equipment. I was clearly at a low wave count because of my lack of experience. I also watched my brother get barreled, backside, going right. It looked cool because he got slotted at the top of the wave, grabbed rail, and put his arm in the wall to stall. The wave ended up engulfing him, but it was still advanced surfing.
Around the noon mark, things just died out. My brother was extremely satisfied. I didn’t want to complain about the session, but it was hard to compare it to the conditions at Porto. We ended the session with AYCE sushi in Oceanside.
CREW: Randy
TIME: 1000 - 1230, 2 hrs..
WIND: Offshore
WATER: Going from high to low tide, inconsistent, unpredictable, needed cloud break to catch waves … odd. Chest high on plus sets.
After Monday’s phenomenal conditions at Porto, Randy and I deliberated on where to surf. He did his homework and decided to head to Del Mar Jetty. We timed our arrival to catch the tide going from high to low. When we arrived there wasn’t one surfer out there. The offshore winds were howling, and the high tide made the waves look mooshy. We saw a plus sized set come through just under head high. It was mooshy, but still fun with some nice shoulders. We were pretty pumped. It didn’t look like a gnarly day, and I was looking forward to working on some turns on the JSI board.
As soon as we got to the line up, everything changed for some reason. There was a long wait for that big set to come. Then, the peak that we paddled to didn’t produce anything. We paddled back, forth, to, and from to try to sniff out the waves. When they did come, they were too mooshy and broke late. Randy told me that he figured it out, and that we had to catch the waves as soon as they were cloud breaking in order to get pushed into them. The surf seemed to pick up again. I got a small handful of rides, and I didn’t get the best out of them. On at least two waves, the off shore winds sprayed my face full of water; I was popping up blind. Those rides were wastes. A couple other waves that I caught didn’t have much power behind them. My best ride was a right that finally opened up for me. I got to pump my board a couple times and did a top turn at the lip. I was happy to get that one good ride to justify making the session worth it.
Meanwhile, my brother was able to paddle into waves that seemed too soft to paddle into. He got some really long rides all the way to shore. That was pure proof that it’s always more about the surfer than the conditions or equipment. I was clearly at a low wave count because of my lack of experience. I also watched my brother get barreled, backside, going right. It looked cool because he got slotted at the top of the wave, grabbed rail, and put his arm in the wall to stall. The wave ended up engulfing him, but it was still advanced surfing.
Around the noon mark, things just died out. My brother was extremely satisfied. I didn’t want to complain about the session, but it was hard to compare it to the conditions at Porto. We ended the session with AYCE sushi in Oceanside.
Monday, January 3, 2011
ADRENALINE SESSIONS: MON 1.03.2011 EVE
CREW: Solo Bolo
TIME: 1500 - 1700
WIND: Offshore
WATER: It was cold, but when the surf is good … who gives a shit? Head high to overhead, walls mixed in with clean shoulders, low tide, surprisingly clean ass conditions.
I knew that the report would be good for today. I knew, but I have been let down so much lately by Surfline’s inaccuracy that I didn’t prepare for today. In fact I went to bed at about 0130 this morning. I played World of Warcraft until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. At about 1330 I decided to pack up to go to the gym. I had a feeling that I should check the surf report. Surfline had it at 4-5 with occasional six. I thought about it for a while and decided that a drive by at El Porto couldn’t hurt. I left my new JSI board (with its repair unsanded) in the corner collecting dust. Usually Surfline is off, and the afternoons have been known to be blown out.
As I made my way up Imperial Ave. I noticed that the wind was offshore, a good sign. Once Hammerlands was in sight I saw a pack of surfers hanging out at the point. I took another glance and saw a guy get a long clean right off of the jetty. I glanced at the smoke stacks and saw clean head high sets rolling through. I immediately turned around and went back home to finish the repair on my JSI board. Ironically, I had just received a text from Klaude about how awesome the surf forecast was. Every surfer impulse that lay dormant was fully charged, locked and loaded. I cursed World of Warcraft and the pleasant delights of completing quests and leveling up. I stayed up late as hell and missed out on this perfect day of surf, I thought to myself.
The Suncure was hardened where the ding was, but I still had to sand it. It was about 1400, and I was on my balcony sanding away furiously. At about 1430 I accepted the imperfection of my repair and headed back to the car with my board. The jetty was still packed as I drove past it again. I parked in full anticipation of getting in the water. I could hardly contain myself as I stumbled through my normal routine to change into my wetsuit. Another guy parked next to me was doing the same thing. I put exactly two hours and ten minutes in the meter, and I was on my way.
Low tide was at 1500, and it was totally drained out. A long stretch of wet sand expanded across the whole beach until it met the water. The morning was overcast and drizzling, but when I got there, the sky over the ocean was blue, and it welcomed all beachgoers despite our late arrivals. When I looked out I saw something rare, something that I’ve been waiting for for months. The conditions were clean. Usually low tide equals waves breaking right on shore. That wasn’t the case. The offshore wind didn’t affect the glassiness of the water. There was maybe just a slight texture, but it was minimal. There was no current, and there was no funky water movement on the inside. The waves were consistent with a predictable lull in between which made paddling out easy for anyone who was willing. Best of all … six foot to over head waves were breaking everywhere. The peaks were scattered. Thank the Gods, the sandbars were doing their thing.
After a quick warm up I took the long walk to get to waist high water. Just then a set came. I backed off a little and waited for the lull. When it came, I took advantage of it, and I only had to duckdive one inside wave. I was in front of the tanks, and there were only two guys near me, one to the north and south. It took a while to find the sweet spot in the line up. Initially I was too far out, and I scratched out on a lot of waves that came. I was 0 for 6. Finally a six foot right came. I had to catch it really late, being on a smaller board. I rail grabbed and turned out of the wave before it closed out. It was a fun drop, but obviously not the best wave. Another right came; it was fast. I fought to get my balance and stand up. Success! Although, it was my first time catching big and fast waves on my board. I tried to set up for my bottom turn, but my board was literally skipping across the water from the speed, so I ended up eating shit. As I got pounded on the dark sandy bottom, I ended up in a kneeling position. It felt like a thousand gallons exploded on my back and pinned me in place. It was like a thousand hit combo from a Street Fighter video game. I found myself in the impact zone. From my experience, duckdiving big waves in shallow water has been a lose-lose situation, so I ditched my board, got pounded, and waited for the lull. As bad as that sounds, it was all manageable.
I caught more waves but failed to milk the most out of them. The crowd started to appear, and my secluded spot was now spotted with black wetsuits. I watched this guy catch the set waves and kick out once he was down the line. Usually I’d be a hater, but that actually gave me hope that I could be that efficient, too. I used to let that discourage me, but I could only imagine what kind of dues everyone else has paid, and I just need to keep paying mine.
I was frustrated with the crowd. I paddled further north in between the stacks and the tanks. One would think that I went to a spot where the waves were shitty, but it was exactly the opposite. The sun was down, the tide was coming in again, it was 1630, and the surf actually got better. The guy that was ripping, and I, had that spot to ourselves. That’s when it happened. I had to catch some of the waves so late that I couldn’t tell how big some of them were. All I would see was the bump in the surface, then I’d paddle my ass off with no regard. I can’t recall how big this left was, but I managed to drop in. It was a steep fucker. I managed to lift my rail with my right hand to point my nose in with the wave. I barely grab rail when I’m going front side. The wave, once again, was so fast, that I was struggling to get my footing down and stand up. I remember I was feeling for the traction pad when I looked up. The wave began to go over my head. I remember seeing white foam engraved in the water; it looked like swirled marble. I then realized that the wave took a different shape; it was like a fuckin’ cavern! I looked ahead and saw the eye at the end of the cylinder. As I got to my feet it started to envelope me and began to close. I forced my face to penetrate out the top of the wave and paddled back to the line. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fool, and this absolutely does not count as a barrel. To look back and think about that moment fills me with so much emotion that I don’t even know how to put it on paper. It was beautiful. I once experienced something like that, but I was tenfold the novice that I am today. This time I was able to slow things down, take a look around, absorb what was happening, and click, save. My heart races just thinking about it. When I paddled back I smiled and let out a little laugh. I saw the white faces of the Manhattan homes turning orange. There were streaks of silver clouds above P.V. Patches of orange and yellow hung behind the dispersed clouds. I wish I could’ve had a friend there to share that with.
My wipeout of the day happened after that. The other guy that was sharing the peak was on the inside, finished with a wave. It was about 1645. I had a long wait before I was in the right position for a wave. The sun had already set. The texture in the water formed shadowed, angular, shapes; the pockets of the waves turned darker. I saw a peak forming, so I turned around to paddle hard for it. I didn’t realize how far towards the inside I was. I ended up catching the wave really late. As I popped up going right, I grabbed the rail, but the lip was already on me. I ended up doing a freefall rail grab as I had one of the most awkward positioned wipeouts. That still counts as an air, right? My head bobbed to the surface rather quickly. However, I was quite embarrassed because that guy saw the whole thing. I tried to play it off while I was in out there, but at that moment it was obvious that I was a beginner.
I only had about ten minutes left on the meter, so I was determined to get one last wave, especially after my debacle. A set wave formed in the distance. Before I knew it, it jacked up and formed into an overhead, rolling, right. I watched it the whole time as I set up for it, and the wave began to break. I caught it at the perfect spot, inside the shoulder where the wave begins to ramp up. I popped up on the lip, but I didn’t get a fast drop. I took a high line, and by the time I made my way down, the section was running away. I went back up the face but had to reenter before it closed. That was my last wave of the day. So much potential for a good ride, but due to surfer error I didn’t get to milk it.
I jogged back to my car to avoid the ticket. As I got my key out of my lock safe, Lauren pulled into the parking lot. She arrived with her HD camcorder, but my session was already done. I changed back into my clothes and put on some Gregory Isaacs as I drove home. I thought about the session. I was shaking, but not from the cold, it was from all my different senses and endorphins that fired off during the session. I was drained both physically and emotionally. Sure, I didn’t really conquer any waves, but any time that Porto is pumping good waves, it’s special just to be out there in the line up, even if you don’t catch one. To be able to witness good shaped, overhead, waves and be in the water next to them is one of the purest pleasures that any oceanlover could ask for. I was truly privileged to be out there, wipeout or not. Either way, I walked away unscathed and high on life, high on surfing. Days like this … I’m glad I’m alive.
TIME: 1500 - 1700
WIND: Offshore
WATER: It was cold, but when the surf is good … who gives a shit? Head high to overhead, walls mixed in with clean shoulders, low tide, surprisingly clean ass conditions.
I knew that the report would be good for today. I knew, but I have been let down so much lately by Surfline’s inaccuracy that I didn’t prepare for today. In fact I went to bed at about 0130 this morning. I played World of Warcraft until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. At about 1330 I decided to pack up to go to the gym. I had a feeling that I should check the surf report. Surfline had it at 4-5 with occasional six. I thought about it for a while and decided that a drive by at El Porto couldn’t hurt. I left my new JSI board (with its repair unsanded) in the corner collecting dust. Usually Surfline is off, and the afternoons have been known to be blown out.
As I made my way up Imperial Ave. I noticed that the wind was offshore, a good sign. Once Hammerlands was in sight I saw a pack of surfers hanging out at the point. I took another glance and saw a guy get a long clean right off of the jetty. I glanced at the smoke stacks and saw clean head high sets rolling through. I immediately turned around and went back home to finish the repair on my JSI board. Ironically, I had just received a text from Klaude about how awesome the surf forecast was. Every surfer impulse that lay dormant was fully charged, locked and loaded. I cursed World of Warcraft and the pleasant delights of completing quests and leveling up. I stayed up late as hell and missed out on this perfect day of surf, I thought to myself.
The Suncure was hardened where the ding was, but I still had to sand it. It was about 1400, and I was on my balcony sanding away furiously. At about 1430 I accepted the imperfection of my repair and headed back to the car with my board. The jetty was still packed as I drove past it again. I parked in full anticipation of getting in the water. I could hardly contain myself as I stumbled through my normal routine to change into my wetsuit. Another guy parked next to me was doing the same thing. I put exactly two hours and ten minutes in the meter, and I was on my way.
Low tide was at 1500, and it was totally drained out. A long stretch of wet sand expanded across the whole beach until it met the water. The morning was overcast and drizzling, but when I got there, the sky over the ocean was blue, and it welcomed all beachgoers despite our late arrivals. When I looked out I saw something rare, something that I’ve been waiting for for months. The conditions were clean. Usually low tide equals waves breaking right on shore. That wasn’t the case. The offshore wind didn’t affect the glassiness of the water. There was maybe just a slight texture, but it was minimal. There was no current, and there was no funky water movement on the inside. The waves were consistent with a predictable lull in between which made paddling out easy for anyone who was willing. Best of all … six foot to over head waves were breaking everywhere. The peaks were scattered. Thank the Gods, the sandbars were doing their thing.
After a quick warm up I took the long walk to get to waist high water. Just then a set came. I backed off a little and waited for the lull. When it came, I took advantage of it, and I only had to duckdive one inside wave. I was in front of the tanks, and there were only two guys near me, one to the north and south. It took a while to find the sweet spot in the line up. Initially I was too far out, and I scratched out on a lot of waves that came. I was 0 for 6. Finally a six foot right came. I had to catch it really late, being on a smaller board. I rail grabbed and turned out of the wave before it closed out. It was a fun drop, but obviously not the best wave. Another right came; it was fast. I fought to get my balance and stand up. Success! Although, it was my first time catching big and fast waves on my board. I tried to set up for my bottom turn, but my board was literally skipping across the water from the speed, so I ended up eating shit. As I got pounded on the dark sandy bottom, I ended up in a kneeling position. It felt like a thousand gallons exploded on my back and pinned me in place. It was like a thousand hit combo from a Street Fighter video game. I found myself in the impact zone. From my experience, duckdiving big waves in shallow water has been a lose-lose situation, so I ditched my board, got pounded, and waited for the lull. As bad as that sounds, it was all manageable.
I caught more waves but failed to milk the most out of them. The crowd started to appear, and my secluded spot was now spotted with black wetsuits. I watched this guy catch the set waves and kick out once he was down the line. Usually I’d be a hater, but that actually gave me hope that I could be that efficient, too. I used to let that discourage me, but I could only imagine what kind of dues everyone else has paid, and I just need to keep paying mine.
I was frustrated with the crowd. I paddled further north in between the stacks and the tanks. One would think that I went to a spot where the waves were shitty, but it was exactly the opposite. The sun was down, the tide was coming in again, it was 1630, and the surf actually got better. The guy that was ripping, and I, had that spot to ourselves. That’s when it happened. I had to catch some of the waves so late that I couldn’t tell how big some of them were. All I would see was the bump in the surface, then I’d paddle my ass off with no regard. I can’t recall how big this left was, but I managed to drop in. It was a steep fucker. I managed to lift my rail with my right hand to point my nose in with the wave. I barely grab rail when I’m going front side. The wave, once again, was so fast, that I was struggling to get my footing down and stand up. I remember I was feeling for the traction pad when I looked up. The wave began to go over my head. I remember seeing white foam engraved in the water; it looked like swirled marble. I then realized that the wave took a different shape; it was like a fuckin’ cavern! I looked ahead and saw the eye at the end of the cylinder. As I got to my feet it started to envelope me and began to close. I forced my face to penetrate out the top of the wave and paddled back to the line. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fool, and this absolutely does not count as a barrel. To look back and think about that moment fills me with so much emotion that I don’t even know how to put it on paper. It was beautiful. I once experienced something like that, but I was tenfold the novice that I am today. This time I was able to slow things down, take a look around, absorb what was happening, and click, save. My heart races just thinking about it. When I paddled back I smiled and let out a little laugh. I saw the white faces of the Manhattan homes turning orange. There were streaks of silver clouds above P.V. Patches of orange and yellow hung behind the dispersed clouds. I wish I could’ve had a friend there to share that with.
My wipeout of the day happened after that. The other guy that was sharing the peak was on the inside, finished with a wave. It was about 1645. I had a long wait before I was in the right position for a wave. The sun had already set. The texture in the water formed shadowed, angular, shapes; the pockets of the waves turned darker. I saw a peak forming, so I turned around to paddle hard for it. I didn’t realize how far towards the inside I was. I ended up catching the wave really late. As I popped up going right, I grabbed the rail, but the lip was already on me. I ended up doing a freefall rail grab as I had one of the most awkward positioned wipeouts. That still counts as an air, right? My head bobbed to the surface rather quickly. However, I was quite embarrassed because that guy saw the whole thing. I tried to play it off while I was in out there, but at that moment it was obvious that I was a beginner.
I only had about ten minutes left on the meter, so I was determined to get one last wave, especially after my debacle. A set wave formed in the distance. Before I knew it, it jacked up and formed into an overhead, rolling, right. I watched it the whole time as I set up for it, and the wave began to break. I caught it at the perfect spot, inside the shoulder where the wave begins to ramp up. I popped up on the lip, but I didn’t get a fast drop. I took a high line, and by the time I made my way down, the section was running away. I went back up the face but had to reenter before it closed. That was my last wave of the day. So much potential for a good ride, but due to surfer error I didn’t get to milk it.
I jogged back to my car to avoid the ticket. As I got my key out of my lock safe, Lauren pulled into the parking lot. She arrived with her HD camcorder, but my session was already done. I changed back into my clothes and put on some Gregory Isaacs as I drove home. I thought about the session. I was shaking, but not from the cold, it was from all my different senses and endorphins that fired off during the session. I was drained both physically and emotionally. Sure, I didn’t really conquer any waves, but any time that Porto is pumping good waves, it’s special just to be out there in the line up, even if you don’t catch one. To be able to witness good shaped, overhead, waves and be in the water next to them is one of the purest pleasures that any oceanlover could ask for. I was truly privileged to be out there, wipeout or not. Either way, I walked away unscathed and high on life, high on surfing. Days like this … I’m glad I’m alive.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
OH MY ICY BALLS: SUN 1.02.2011 MORN
CREW: Rick, Gary, Dave
TIME: 0700- 0850, 1.83 hrs.
WIND: Offshore
WATER: Unfathomably cold. High tide. Mooshy, but with fast and racy sections towards the inside. Inconsistent and chest high.
Shan hit me up last night and asked if I was surfing. I asked him if he was going to surf Porto, but I never heard back from him. I asked Cheryl, Dais, and J if they were going to paddle out in the morning. Cheryl said she was busy, and Dais and J said they would go later in the day. I forced myself out of bed and grabbed my gear. The cold breeze rushed up my shorts and made my sack tingle. In the dark early morning, I drove to El Porto. I snatched a free parking space that was on the hill. As I walked down I got a text from Rick, he gave me the surf report. I found him parked and caught him by surprise. Even though it looked small, he showed me where a sandbar was that produced some waves. Soon Gary and Dave showed up, and we all decided to paddle out. Gary and Dave were already in the water while I was warming up. It looked cold. The water was so clear that it looked like a public pool in the dead of winter. Once I got to the line up and sat on my board, it felt like ice water was kissing my balls. It was freezing! I already knew that it would be a tough session. I didn’t even want to move I was so cold, but I knew it would be necessary to gather some warmth. Scattered clouds dominated the atmosphere. Small patches of yellow and orange peeked behind the overcast. I hoped for the sun rays to burn through and remove the gloom, but that never happened. The sets were inconsistent, but when they came, they had fast and racy sections. They were hard to paddle into because of the tide, but once I popped up it was a fast trip to the shore. My first wave was a right which I tried to rail grab and get mini barreled in, but I ended up losing my footing trying to tuck closer to the curl. After that, I caught nothing but lefts. The other three guys were making their whereabouts known by trading off on rides. I went a little north of them so I wouldn’t have to compete. Gary saw that I was outside, so he motioned me to come closer. Just as he did that a nice peak came my way and broke into a left. I pumped my board at least three times to keep up with the section. There was no time for turning; it was a race. The rest of my waves were kind of like that. I had to get out of the water before 0900. I wasn’t able to feel my thumbs. Everything was a challenge: opening the lock safe, turning on the car, putting on my towel, taking off my wetsuit, and putting on some dry clothes. It wasn’t a complete loss, but I am still waiting for that session where the waves are awesome and I can get some good practice turns in. I am also lucky that I surfed when I did because it ended up raining before noon.
Lauren and I had breakfast with Jonathan before he headed back out to San Diego. He told me that he only surfs in the summer now. Oh well. No one wants to surf anymore. When school starts I am going to see if their surf club is cool or not. It would be nice to have friends that surf.
TIME: 0700- 0850, 1.83 hrs.
WIND: Offshore
WATER: Unfathomably cold. High tide. Mooshy, but with fast and racy sections towards the inside. Inconsistent and chest high.
Shan hit me up last night and asked if I was surfing. I asked him if he was going to surf Porto, but I never heard back from him. I asked Cheryl, Dais, and J if they were going to paddle out in the morning. Cheryl said she was busy, and Dais and J said they would go later in the day. I forced myself out of bed and grabbed my gear. The cold breeze rushed up my shorts and made my sack tingle. In the dark early morning, I drove to El Porto. I snatched a free parking space that was on the hill. As I walked down I got a text from Rick, he gave me the surf report. I found him parked and caught him by surprise. Even though it looked small, he showed me where a sandbar was that produced some waves. Soon Gary and Dave showed up, and we all decided to paddle out. Gary and Dave were already in the water while I was warming up. It looked cold. The water was so clear that it looked like a public pool in the dead of winter. Once I got to the line up and sat on my board, it felt like ice water was kissing my balls. It was freezing! I already knew that it would be a tough session. I didn’t even want to move I was so cold, but I knew it would be necessary to gather some warmth. Scattered clouds dominated the atmosphere. Small patches of yellow and orange peeked behind the overcast. I hoped for the sun rays to burn through and remove the gloom, but that never happened. The sets were inconsistent, but when they came, they had fast and racy sections. They were hard to paddle into because of the tide, but once I popped up it was a fast trip to the shore. My first wave was a right which I tried to rail grab and get mini barreled in, but I ended up losing my footing trying to tuck closer to the curl. After that, I caught nothing but lefts. The other three guys were making their whereabouts known by trading off on rides. I went a little north of them so I wouldn’t have to compete. Gary saw that I was outside, so he motioned me to come closer. Just as he did that a nice peak came my way and broke into a left. I pumped my board at least three times to keep up with the section. There was no time for turning; it was a race. The rest of my waves were kind of like that. I had to get out of the water before 0900. I wasn’t able to feel my thumbs. Everything was a challenge: opening the lock safe, turning on the car, putting on my towel, taking off my wetsuit, and putting on some dry clothes. It wasn’t a complete loss, but I am still waiting for that session where the waves are awesome and I can get some good practice turns in. I am also lucky that I surfed when I did because it ended up raining before noon.
Lauren and I had breakfast with Jonathan before he headed back out to San Diego. He told me that he only surfs in the summer now. Oh well. No one wants to surf anymore. When school starts I am going to see if their surf club is cool or not. It would be nice to have friends that surf.
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