CREW: Solo Bolo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Rick
TIME: 1630 - 1730, 1 hr.
CONDITIONS: Head high, extremely low tide, drained, walled up, no wind, sunny, glassy, and beautiful.
I didn’t get a chance to surf on Wed. My body was pretty worn out, it was Lauren’s birthday, so it was easy to justify staying in. According to Surfline, the conditions have been great. On Thursday I had to work all day, and I did my best to see if I could get some for myself. After getting back to El Segundo around 1600, I ran upstairs, changed, grabbed my surf gear, and bolted out the door. I saw some heads at Hammers and the Jetty, and I could see that there was some swell as I pulled into the Porto lot. There were a lot of people parked. The sun was getting low, and an orange haze filled the sky. I sent out the mass text that I was paddling out. By chance, Rick was there, and he met me at my car. He didn’t have any gear with him so he couldn’t surf, but he was skateboarding around. I hope I could be that cool when I’m that age.
One glance at the line up and it didn’t take a gynecologist to see that it was walled. The jetty was doing it (as usual), and Rosecrans looked like it was holding a little shape. Surfline gave Porto the “Gold Rating” that day. I’m sure it was good when the tide was higher, but I caught it at low tide. My goal was just to paddle out, wave or no wave. I was due to leave for Mammoth on Friday, so it was my last chance to surf for a couple days.
I grabbed the 6’2 DMS and paddled out in front of the tanks. There were a lot of people by 45th and a pack of people by the smoke stacks. When the sets came they were head high. I paddled for shoulders whenever I found some, but as soon as I was at the top, I saw that the shoulder was closing out, too. I saw guys by 45th and 42nd dropping in, but their rides were really short. Surprisingly, there were guys getting some good rides by the stacks. I think that sand bar has been working lately, at least with the latest swell.
I waited forever. I finally paddled for a left. When I slid down the face the section was already running away. I had an opportunity to hack the lip or kick out. I kicked out to avoid a shallow pounding. I got cocky for a minute there. I thought to myself how I felt confident duckdiving big waves, now. Right after that, I got caught by a set from playing the inside line too close to shore. I had to duck dive about three waves without making progress. I held on as hard as I could. These were head high, punchy, and on a low tide. Before I made any more progress, another damn set came and ass raped me.
I caught one more wave, but it closed out, and I could only go straight. I took inventory on the others around me, and they, too, were waiting all evening for that one good wave. That wave never came for almost all of us. My session ended with me paddling in to shore; the way I hate to end any session. It was still nice being out there. I didn’t expect much, so I can’t say that I was disappointed. Until then, Porto still owes me at least one good wave.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
YOU CAN‘T HAVE JUST ONE: TUE 1.16.2011 MORN
CREW: Solo Bolo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0705 - 0850, 1 hr. & 45 min.
CONDITIONS: Smaller than the day before, about shoulder high, mooshy, high tide, clear and sunny, cool air temp, slight off shore wind,
After the MLK session, I was frothing for some waves with good shape to practice my turns on. The surf report showed that the swell would be dwindling, but I couldn’t help but return to the exact same spot from the day before. It was Tuesday, everyone would be back at work, so I expected the crowd to finally thin out. I got free parking on Highland and 27th, just above the 26th St. tower. I took my time to walk down to check the conditions first. High tide was pretty early, but I could see some peaks rolling through from the top of the hill. The waves were breaking a bit close to shore, but the shape was nice. There were packs of longboarders taking over the two main peaks, one by 26th, and the other just north of it. When I returned with my board, I could see that my spot still had a little peak.
I was finally getting really comfortable with the 6’2 DMS. I paddled out with ease, and duckdived through the inside with energy to spare. Sure, it’s not as fast as the Merrick, but I’d rather have the ability to punch through set waves on the inside.
Tuesday morning started off a bit frustrating. The waits for the sets were a lot longer. I got impatient and tried to work the inside line, but just as I would get there, that’s when the sets broke on the outside. It was ike playing “cat and mouse,” and I was losing. There were a lot of long boarders out, which was a bad sign. The waves were so mooshy that they seemed to break really late. That was all because of the high tide, and there just wasn’t enough swell for it. As I sat at the line I watched other surfers warm up and check out my spot. I couldn’t deny my primordial instinct. I felt like that was, rightfully, my peak since I got there first. Some guy paddled out right next to me. Just as he did, I turned around and caught a left, but the face crumbled away pretty fast. That was pretty much how the morning went. The peaks were a little long, and the shoulders formed all the way at the end, out of reach. I remember catching a right; it seemed like a good wave, then I saw some guy in my way on the inside. I had to kick out. After that I caught a couple waves that were only good for one top turn. I was pulling off some spray going right, but I wanted more. I needed some better shape that gave me more time to practice, but it didn’t happen.
I got a negative vibe being there. I felt like there were too many people around, and the wave quality in that spot wasn’t worth it. I paddled in and walked south of 26th to find a peak to myself. I saw some lone sets at the place where I surfed with the crew at on MLK. I paddled out but was deceived again. It was the same thing- one turn waves. I was cold, wasn’t catching any good waves, and it was almost 0900. I wanted to pull a solid two hours, but I cut the session short.
I had a lot to do to prepare for Lauren’s birthday. That afternoon I returned to see if I could get a sunset session in. On the way to Porto I saw huge waves by the jetty, and people on the rocks watching. The more I got to peek during the drive, the more I saw huge sets lining up in the distance. When I pulled in, the parking lot was packed with a lot of spectators. The face of Porto and 26th changed from what it was in the morning. There was overhead surf throughout the beach. When I took a closer look, it was really walled up. The only places that seemed to hold shape were the smaller sets at Rosecrans and the jetty. There weren’t many people out. I sat and watched for about twenty minutes, and everyone at the non prime spots could only go straight on the close outs. There was also some strange water movement going on. Between the tanks and the stacks, there was an A-frame peak on the inside, but it was still really messy. It didn’t seem worth the horrendous paddle out just to be a suicide bomber. I took a couple pics, and this is what I saw.
 | |||||||||||||||||||||||
| El Porto, Tuesday evening 19 JAN 2011. Typically walled and closing out whenever it gets over head. |
Monday, January 17, 2011
MANHATTAN MARATHON SESSIONS: MON 1.17.2011 MORN
CREW: Cheryl, Christina, Dais
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0700 - 0900, half hour break, 0930 - 1120, total of 3 hrs. & 50 min.
CONDITIONS: Slight off shore breeze, high tide, a little mooshy. First session had shoulder to head high peaks and very long rides all the way to the sand. Sunny and warm, summer in the winter. Second session was a little closed out.
PART I
Rick really wanted me to drive to San Onofre to join him and his friends for a morning surf session. I really didn’t want to drive all the way there again. Besides, the WNW swell seemed stronger than the SSW swell, so I gambled on the conditions being better local. I wasn’t looking forward to the crowds and the parking, but I decided to get to Parks Beach early to score a free spot. If it didn’t look good there, I would’ve considered driving to HB.
The night before, I asked the DRC who was in, and Cheryl, Christina, and Dais were down. Although, they wanted to arrive a little later around 0900. Shan and J said they wanted an afternoon session. I packed some snacks to make sure I would have enough energy when they arrived. I was in Manhattan Beach by 0620. I tried to score free parking on Rosecrans to no avail. I parked on the east side of Highland Ave. only to see that Monday has street cleaning. I, then, found a spot on 27th St. I walked down to take a look before I suited up. Some people may not like high tide conditions, but in the South Bay I find them fun. A couple peaks were going off in front of 26th and a little further south. The mooshy waves still looked fun. I sent out the mass text, suited up, chose the 6’2 DMS, and hit the sand. There weren’t many people in the water yet, but I paddled out just south of the 30th St. tower so I could have a peak to myself. A long haired, dark, Pacific Islander guy dominated the peak just south of me. I think they call him “The King of 26th.” I see him there all the time, but I don’t know his name. He had a bigger peak, but I was still in a good spot.
The sun was just barely over the Manhattan homes, seagulls congregated on the beach, and black uniformed soldiers with their boards trickled down the hill and onto the sand. Soon I had the peak with two other guys. The water had a little bit of texture on the surface, combined with the cold temperature and icy blueness, I felt as if I was immersed in a body of water on a high mountain. I watched the peaks roll in. They were just the right size for my shortboard, headhigh. Mooshy, but steep, I watched the pockets turn darker as the waves began to curl. I paddled in too early on my first couple attempts, but eventually I paddled late enough to get the slide. I haven’t caught too many waves since switching to shorter boards, so every time I pop up I consider it a privilege, almost to the point that I can’t believe I’m free to ride them as I wish. Riding a shorter board is different; every moment counts. My pop ups have to be faster, there’s a slight struggle to maintain my balance, and I have to gain my composure right away before the section runs out. So many things happen in fractions of a second, but they are like slow motion scenes in my mind. I fell going left. I caught a right too late, and when it broke over me, I had to slide on my belly before I popped up. Ride wasted. I caught another right where I flailed my arms in barney fashion before slipping backwards. Another memorable wipeout, I caught a left too late. I desperately pointed my nose down the line, but it was so steep that I stood perfectly upright with the wave face right in front of me. I was in a critical spot, it was too fast, and it felt like I was smashed head-on by a bus made of water. I laugh when I think about it now, and thank goodness it wasn’t that brutal. I caught a lot of insignificant rides that was more like shortboard training. Maybe when Rick is gracious enough to repair my 6’3 JS, I can perform better.
My wave of the day happened fairly early, in between “Matt‘s blunders.” Despite almost four hours of surfing, within the first fifteen minutes my session was MADE. I caught this left hander right on the shoulder in front of the peak, on what seemed like the best spot to slide down. It was a little racy, but I pumped my board to keep up and gather speed. As the wave approached the inside it jacked up higher. With my brother’s advice in mind, I successfully carved the top of the lip, throwing my shoulder and hips clockwise. Miniature baby spray misted the air behind me. No, not an official “spray” yet, but gawd damn that’s the closest I’ve ever been! I kept pumping and carving the lip; I was trying to put as much mustard on those top turns as I could. I was already going over the sand, and I jumped ship over knee deep water. I can’t help but smile writing about it now. It was such a long ride. Those were the best turns that I have ever pulled off going front side, and I did it on a board that I wasn’t even sure that I was ready for. I tried so hard to force duplicate another ride like that, but the opportunity never came. The dropping tide changed the shape, and crowd in the water was as thick as a Macedonian Battle Formation. Needing fuel, I exited at 0900.
PART II
I scanned the endless sea of wetsuits for Cheryl, Christina, and Dais. By chance, I saw Christina just as she got to the front of the 26th St. tower. I hid behind my board and snuck up on her using my Asian ninja skills. She told me that the others were on their way, and that she’d start her session in the meantime. I walked back to my car, ate a breakfast bar, drank some water, swapped boards, grabbed an orange, and reapplied some sunblock. I hoped that the little nourishment would give me the extra duckbutter power I needed for another session.
I walked back down the hill with my heavy 6’6 as I heard someone yelling my name out. It was Cheryl, and she was in the first lot. She commented on my failing attempt at growing a beard and mustache. Just as she did that, there came Dais with his mountain man hair do. That guy can grow some serious face bush. Only if he knew how much I envied him. I got back to the tower to find Christina munching on a banana. She said she caught 5 waves and was taking a break. I had no idea I was gone for a half hour. We sat and waited for everyone else. To keep myself occupied I tested the seal in my brother’s wetsuit by taking a steamy warm piss. And whattaya know, the seal was good. I felt the pool of piss all the way up to the small of my back, then I made a pair of balls and a shaft out of sand and placed it over my crotch. At that moment, I knew I was ready for round two.
The waves looked smaller, softer, and the crowd was just as thick. Our DRC squad paddled out like a family. I led the charge, Dais was covering my six, and Cheryl and Christina valiantly fought the inside white wash. It turned out to be more brutal than I thought. With the tide dropping, some of the sets got a little walled and punchy. Some sets had a lot of close outs in them, and a lot of surfers got cleaned up on the inside. The current was pretty strong, and it took us further north into a different crowd.
There were so many heads out that almost every wave had a party on it. I know Cheryl caught some waves, but I didn’t get a good look at her rides. Dais got a handful of rides, as I saw him disappear behind some closeouts. I thought we all got close outs; I know I did. They weren’t completely closed out, but there were only a couple pumps on the face before it was time to bail.
Christina earned a DRC stripe today. We were talking about what to look for in a wave and how to tell if it’s a good one to paddle for. I caught a little right to the inside. As I paddled back out I saw Christina committing to a very late take off on a walled and plus sized wave. I would’ve definitely backed off, but she went for it “CLAM OUT” (opposite of balls out). I had to duckdive that wave, so I didn’t see the aftermath, but I found her bobbing in the water with her board off to the side. I asked if she was all right, and she was fine. I told her that I commended her bravery. I caught a pretty good amount of waves, but I never got to pull off any good turns. They seemed a little racy. I did get one left that I got a couple pumps on, but I reverted to my old top turn, stalled, and ate shit.
I got caught on the inside during my second session. I used to blame my ability to duckdive, but that Merrick is so damn thick and buoyant, I couldn’t get that thing under for shit. I felt as if I should’ve just stuck with the 6’2 potato chip. I almost paddled back out after my last wave. Cheryl was on the inside with me. I turned to her and told her I’d be on the sand. I was done. It didn’t seem worth it anymore. I was almost into my fourth hour. I found Christina chilling by the tower. She commented on the beautiful day and said she planned on staying there for the whole afternoon. I waited until about 1130, told her to give Cheryl and Dais my love, then I left.
I came home and ate like I was starving to death: two slices of pizza, a huge plate of pasta, and two dinner rolls with Lauren’s homemade garlic dipping sauce. No afternoon session for me today. My neck is so stiff from all that paddling. I was happy to surf with a bunch of buddies again; it’s been a while since a group of us have been out in the water together. Martin Luther King Day produced some of the best summer-like conditions with good surf. Awesome. …
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0700 - 0900, half hour break, 0930 - 1120, total of 3 hrs. & 50 min.
CONDITIONS: Slight off shore breeze, high tide, a little mooshy. First session had shoulder to head high peaks and very long rides all the way to the sand. Sunny and warm, summer in the winter. Second session was a little closed out.
PART I
Rick really wanted me to drive to San Onofre to join him and his friends for a morning surf session. I really didn’t want to drive all the way there again. Besides, the WNW swell seemed stronger than the SSW swell, so I gambled on the conditions being better local. I wasn’t looking forward to the crowds and the parking, but I decided to get to Parks Beach early to score a free spot. If it didn’t look good there, I would’ve considered driving to HB.
The night before, I asked the DRC who was in, and Cheryl, Christina, and Dais were down. Although, they wanted to arrive a little later around 0900. Shan and J said they wanted an afternoon session. I packed some snacks to make sure I would have enough energy when they arrived. I was in Manhattan Beach by 0620. I tried to score free parking on Rosecrans to no avail. I parked on the east side of Highland Ave. only to see that Monday has street cleaning. I, then, found a spot on 27th St. I walked down to take a look before I suited up. Some people may not like high tide conditions, but in the South Bay I find them fun. A couple peaks were going off in front of 26th and a little further south. The mooshy waves still looked fun. I sent out the mass text, suited up, chose the 6’2 DMS, and hit the sand. There weren’t many people in the water yet, but I paddled out just south of the 30th St. tower so I could have a peak to myself. A long haired, dark, Pacific Islander guy dominated the peak just south of me. I think they call him “The King of 26th.” I see him there all the time, but I don’t know his name. He had a bigger peak, but I was still in a good spot.
The sun was just barely over the Manhattan homes, seagulls congregated on the beach, and black uniformed soldiers with their boards trickled down the hill and onto the sand. Soon I had the peak with two other guys. The water had a little bit of texture on the surface, combined with the cold temperature and icy blueness, I felt as if I was immersed in a body of water on a high mountain. I watched the peaks roll in. They were just the right size for my shortboard, headhigh. Mooshy, but steep, I watched the pockets turn darker as the waves began to curl. I paddled in too early on my first couple attempts, but eventually I paddled late enough to get the slide. I haven’t caught too many waves since switching to shorter boards, so every time I pop up I consider it a privilege, almost to the point that I can’t believe I’m free to ride them as I wish. Riding a shorter board is different; every moment counts. My pop ups have to be faster, there’s a slight struggle to maintain my balance, and I have to gain my composure right away before the section runs out. So many things happen in fractions of a second, but they are like slow motion scenes in my mind. I fell going left. I caught a right too late, and when it broke over me, I had to slide on my belly before I popped up. Ride wasted. I caught another right where I flailed my arms in barney fashion before slipping backwards. Another memorable wipeout, I caught a left too late. I desperately pointed my nose down the line, but it was so steep that I stood perfectly upright with the wave face right in front of me. I was in a critical spot, it was too fast, and it felt like I was smashed head-on by a bus made of water. I laugh when I think about it now, and thank goodness it wasn’t that brutal. I caught a lot of insignificant rides that was more like shortboard training. Maybe when Rick is gracious enough to repair my 6’3 JS, I can perform better.
My wave of the day happened fairly early, in between “Matt‘s blunders.” Despite almost four hours of surfing, within the first fifteen minutes my session was MADE. I caught this left hander right on the shoulder in front of the peak, on what seemed like the best spot to slide down. It was a little racy, but I pumped my board to keep up and gather speed. As the wave approached the inside it jacked up higher. With my brother’s advice in mind, I successfully carved the top of the lip, throwing my shoulder and hips clockwise. Miniature baby spray misted the air behind me. No, not an official “spray” yet, but gawd damn that’s the closest I’ve ever been! I kept pumping and carving the lip; I was trying to put as much mustard on those top turns as I could. I was already going over the sand, and I jumped ship over knee deep water. I can’t help but smile writing about it now. It was such a long ride. Those were the best turns that I have ever pulled off going front side, and I did it on a board that I wasn’t even sure that I was ready for. I tried so hard to force duplicate another ride like that, but the opportunity never came. The dropping tide changed the shape, and crowd in the water was as thick as a Macedonian Battle Formation. Needing fuel, I exited at 0900.
PART II
I scanned the endless sea of wetsuits for Cheryl, Christina, and Dais. By chance, I saw Christina just as she got to the front of the 26th St. tower. I hid behind my board and snuck up on her using my Asian ninja skills. She told me that the others were on their way, and that she’d start her session in the meantime. I walked back to my car, ate a breakfast bar, drank some water, swapped boards, grabbed an orange, and reapplied some sunblock. I hoped that the little nourishment would give me the extra duckbutter power I needed for another session.
I walked back down the hill with my heavy 6’6 as I heard someone yelling my name out. It was Cheryl, and she was in the first lot. She commented on my failing attempt at growing a beard and mustache. Just as she did that, there came Dais with his mountain man hair do. That guy can grow some serious face bush. Only if he knew how much I envied him. I got back to the tower to find Christina munching on a banana. She said she caught 5 waves and was taking a break. I had no idea I was gone for a half hour. We sat and waited for everyone else. To keep myself occupied I tested the seal in my brother’s wetsuit by taking a steamy warm piss. And whattaya know, the seal was good. I felt the pool of piss all the way up to the small of my back, then I made a pair of balls and a shaft out of sand and placed it over my crotch. At that moment, I knew I was ready for round two.
The waves looked smaller, softer, and the crowd was just as thick. Our DRC squad paddled out like a family. I led the charge, Dais was covering my six, and Cheryl and Christina valiantly fought the inside white wash. It turned out to be more brutal than I thought. With the tide dropping, some of the sets got a little walled and punchy. Some sets had a lot of close outs in them, and a lot of surfers got cleaned up on the inside. The current was pretty strong, and it took us further north into a different crowd.
There were so many heads out that almost every wave had a party on it. I know Cheryl caught some waves, but I didn’t get a good look at her rides. Dais got a handful of rides, as I saw him disappear behind some closeouts. I thought we all got close outs; I know I did. They weren’t completely closed out, but there were only a couple pumps on the face before it was time to bail.
Christina earned a DRC stripe today. We were talking about what to look for in a wave and how to tell if it’s a good one to paddle for. I caught a little right to the inside. As I paddled back out I saw Christina committing to a very late take off on a walled and plus sized wave. I would’ve definitely backed off, but she went for it “CLAM OUT” (opposite of balls out). I had to duckdive that wave, so I didn’t see the aftermath, but I found her bobbing in the water with her board off to the side. I asked if she was all right, and she was fine. I told her that I commended her bravery. I caught a pretty good amount of waves, but I never got to pull off any good turns. They seemed a little racy. I did get one left that I got a couple pumps on, but I reverted to my old top turn, stalled, and ate shit.
I got caught on the inside during my second session. I used to blame my ability to duckdive, but that Merrick is so damn thick and buoyant, I couldn’t get that thing under for shit. I felt as if I should’ve just stuck with the 6’2 potato chip. I almost paddled back out after my last wave. Cheryl was on the inside with me. I turned to her and told her I’d be on the sand. I was done. It didn’t seem worth it anymore. I was almost into my fourth hour. I found Christina chilling by the tower. She commented on the beautiful day and said she planned on staying there for the whole afternoon. I waited until about 1130, told her to give Cheryl and Dais my love, then I left.
I came home and ate like I was starving to death: two slices of pizza, a huge plate of pasta, and two dinner rolls with Lauren’s homemade garlic dipping sauce. No afternoon session for me today. My neck is so stiff from all that paddling. I was happy to surf with a bunch of buddies again; it’s been a while since a group of us have been out in the water together. Martin Luther King Day produced some of the best summer-like conditions with good surf. Awesome. …
DRIVE FOR SURF: SUN 1.16.2011 MORN
 | ||
| Shan stoked for the uncrowded morning conditions. |
CREW: Shan
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Rick, Jon A., Jimmy B., Michaelson
TIME: 0730 - 1030, 3 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Slight offshore breeze made the air a little chilly, clear sunny skies, high tide when we arrived, cold water temp., scattered peaks everywhere, soft waves, a little mooshy, long rides, chest to shoulder high, but it became inconsistent quick.
With school starting again soon, I really wanted to do a day trip to San Onofre to score some waves with good shape. The prior day at El Porto was a bit disappointing with all the close outs, so the drive seemed worth it. I sent out the bat signal, and Shan was the only one willing to take the early morning trek. I brought my 6’2 DMS and my 6’6 Merrick. Shan actually showed up early, and he bought some snacks and drinks. We were on the road by 0600, and it took us about an hour to get there. This was only the second time that I’ve ever taken a trip with my surf buddies, but I went with Rick and my bro a bunch of times. Initially, I wanted to surf San Onofre, but Rick was camping there, and he told me that the line ups were extremely crowded. I can’t give out the exact location, but when we arrived, there were only two heads out, and it was already a little past 0700. Shan and I commented on how crowded we imagined El Porto was at that moment. We walked out to the sand to have an initial look-see. The wind was slightly off shore, enough to give us a good morning chill under our jackets. One would think that the temperature gets warmer down south, but for some reason I’ve always felt Oceanside to be colder than L.A. We watched several scattered peaks without one surfer to claim them. Beautiful A-frame peaks produced clean, peeling, shoulders. The tide was really high, so the waves were a little mooshy. It was obvious that they would need to be caught a bit late, right when they were cloud breaking. Despite the mooshiness, they looked like fun rides. I called Rick and gave him the report.
Thanks to free parking right in front of the beach, we took our sweetest time, as there was no need to fear the Manhattan Meter Maid. We even took our time to find the perfect place to paddle out and wait for the lull. We had a hard time dialing in our first set. We were too far out and didn’t catch the waves late enough to get the slide. By the second set I got some waves. I got a couple really good lefts that I took all the way to shore. A perfect shoulder built up in front of me, and I pumped my board to stay on the face. There was a fun reform on the inside where the waves seemed to jack up. I stalled and then pumped to keep myself on the best part of the shoulder. I didn’t pull off any good carves, but that’s because I didn’t really have a chance to.
For the first forty-five minutes to an hour, the waves were consistently coming in, but we still didn’t figure out where the prime spot was in the line up. Into the second hour, the conditions changed: the waves became inconsistent, there was a long wait, a lot of small waves, the sets only had one big wave, and the peaks formed in different spots every time. A small crowd formed. To our north was about five guys, and to our south were two longboarders. Shan and I were the first ones there, and we thought that we’d have it to ourselves. Just like Saturday, people gathered just because we were there. We paddled further north to get away. Shan got his wave of the day; I didn’t even see it coming, but I heard his trademark, “WOOHOO!” and saw him catch it all the way in. He said it walled up, but it held, allowing him to change direction on the face.
We stayed in that spot until the second hour was up. Unfortunately, the miraculous conditions only lasted an hour when we got there. By about 0930 we walked the beach to find better peaks, and that’s when we ran into Rick and company. They were pretty stoked at the present conditions, even after we told them that it was much better earlier. We joined them in the line up, and even though there were still sets, they were smaller and a lot weaker. Rick criticized my short board again and told me that riding it was not helping my surfing. He kept insisting that I take out his spare fishboard. He was right about needing a different board. In the morning my shortboard was fine, but into the third hour the weak surf called for something meatier.
A little after 1000, Shan kept telling me that he was hungry. I could’ve lasted longer, but it wasn’t worth it. I tried to force a good ride, but every wave I caught bogged out after dropping in. I saw Rick bogging out, too, so it wasn’t just because of my board. Shan and I paddled in and spoke to Jon A. who was on photo detail. We watched the surf with him and saw Jimmy B. milk the most out of those waves and get some long rides. I doubt that he had one complaint at all. The winds turned offshore, which was indicated by the beach flag.
On the way back home we stopped at Pedro’s Tacos in San Clemente for some grub. For six bucks I was pretty damn full. The only problem was, after that, I had to take a mean ass shit. We drove north on Camino Real to a Starbucks, but the bathroom door needed tokens in order to open it. That’s San Clemente for you. The line was out the door, so I just held my shit in. Shan, being the awesome guy that he is, reclined his seat and took a nap the whole ride back. I find that as a bad omen, and whenever I’m in the passenger seat I stay awake for the driver. I played some New Kids on the Block and Debbie Gibson on full blast to fuck with him, but he didn’t even notice. After I filled up the tank and took a shit, he had the audacity to change the music station without even asking. I told him that he made the biggest mistake of his life, as I played nothing but David Hasselhoff for the remainder of the drive back. I thanked Shan for joining me. It was nice having someone to take the trip with, and it was also nice to have someone validate how rancid my farts are.
Shan had fun checking out the new spot. I want to say that the trip was worth it, but I was still disappointed. If I drive out of my way to surf, I expect good waves for the whole session, especially after I heard that El Porto was good that day. Despite the surf, it’s always a good thing to spend time with a friend, so I’m glad we took the trip.
SWELL EXPECTATIONS: SAT 1.15.2011 MORN
CREW: Shan, Christina, Klaude (Ph)
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Brett, Manny, Dave T.
TIME: 0630 - 0920, 2hrs. & 50 min.
WIND: ?
CONDITIONS: Cold water, 57 degree air temp., high to mid tide, sunny, chest to shoulder high, closed out bombs, and random shoulders if you were lucky.
The forecast showed Saturday to be very promising: three to four plus and fair to good conditions. I was stoked the night before just thinking about it. I woke up at 0530, ate breakfast, suited up, and walked out the door. I was the tail end car that entered Porto after the gate opened. It was still dark, but I sent out a text to give whatever report I could muster. My brother forgot his green leash, so I strapped it on my board for good luck. I had the 6’2 DMS,. I thought that I’d be able to get some solid rides, and work on my turns. Shan pulled up just as I locked up my car. I told him I’d be on the sand. I paddled out in front of the tanks. I knew it would be a crowded morning, so I decided to start off away from the masses. It was 0630. There was only one guy to my south and about three guys to the north. Unfortunately, I missed out on some clean peaks. I went for a left on my first attempt, but I only got a piece of the section before it closed out. As I paddled back to the line I saw a cleaner left roll through. I took a late take off on a right and got pitched over. It was a little unpredictable; clean lefts started to come through at 45th without warning. My plan to surf away from the crowd backfired. Within the first thirty minutes, I was completely surrounded by surfers, and no one was at 45th. What the fuck, I thought. The people that paddled out to my north were in the prime position for the good lefts. I ended up on the shoulder, but there was always somebody on it. Soon I was in the water with Shan and Christina. I can’t recall the rides that they got, but I knew that we were all struggling.
Klaude was on the sand. When I got out to feed the meter I caught up with him. I ran into Brett again by 45th. I told him that it was a frustrating morning, but just as I said that we both watched a guy catch a nice, inside, left in front of us. When I got back to paddle out again, Shan and I went in between the stacks and the tanks. We ran into Manny and David. The WHC was out there, and they dominated the peak closer to the tanks. It kind of didn’t matter because there were nothing but close outs over there. I didn’t catch any waves worth while, but I saw some other guys get decent rides. Shan and Christina, understandably, called their sessions early. I was frustrated and tried to force at least one good wave. I caught a left that was too racy and closed out. As I resurfaced, I saw a longboarder get into a wave early and take it for a long left. My last wave was a closeout straight to shore.
I settled with the familiar feeling of disappointment as I walked back to my car. My expectations were high. I wasn’t sure if I failed them or the waves did.
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Brett, Manny, Dave T.
TIME: 0630 - 0920, 2hrs. & 50 min.
WIND: ?
CONDITIONS: Cold water, 57 degree air temp., high to mid tide, sunny, chest to shoulder high, closed out bombs, and random shoulders if you were lucky.
The forecast showed Saturday to be very promising: three to four plus and fair to good conditions. I was stoked the night before just thinking about it. I woke up at 0530, ate breakfast, suited up, and walked out the door. I was the tail end car that entered Porto after the gate opened. It was still dark, but I sent out a text to give whatever report I could muster. My brother forgot his green leash, so I strapped it on my board for good luck. I had the 6’2 DMS,. I thought that I’d be able to get some solid rides, and work on my turns. Shan pulled up just as I locked up my car. I told him I’d be on the sand. I paddled out in front of the tanks. I knew it would be a crowded morning, so I decided to start off away from the masses. It was 0630. There was only one guy to my south and about three guys to the north. Unfortunately, I missed out on some clean peaks. I went for a left on my first attempt, but I only got a piece of the section before it closed out. As I paddled back to the line I saw a cleaner left roll through. I took a late take off on a right and got pitched over. It was a little unpredictable; clean lefts started to come through at 45th without warning. My plan to surf away from the crowd backfired. Within the first thirty minutes, I was completely surrounded by surfers, and no one was at 45th. What the fuck, I thought. The people that paddled out to my north were in the prime position for the good lefts. I ended up on the shoulder, but there was always somebody on it. Soon I was in the water with Shan and Christina. I can’t recall the rides that they got, but I knew that we were all struggling.
Klaude was on the sand. When I got out to feed the meter I caught up with him. I ran into Brett again by 45th. I told him that it was a frustrating morning, but just as I said that we both watched a guy catch a nice, inside, left in front of us. When I got back to paddle out again, Shan and I went in between the stacks and the tanks. We ran into Manny and David. The WHC was out there, and they dominated the peak closer to the tanks. It kind of didn’t matter because there were nothing but close outs over there. I didn’t catch any waves worth while, but I saw some other guys get decent rides. Shan and Christina, understandably, called their sessions early. I was frustrated and tried to force at least one good wave. I caught a left that was too racy and closed out. As I resurfaced, I saw a longboarder get into a wave early and take it for a long left. My last wave was a closeout straight to shore.
I settled with the familiar feeling of disappointment as I walked back to my car. My expectations were high. I wasn’t sure if I failed them or the waves did.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
MY BRO‘S PRE BALI SESSION: FRI 1.14.2011 MORN
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| This post is dedicated to my brother, Randy. This picture was taken at El Porto, Spring 2010, by a water camera man that was there exclusively for another surfer. By chance, he snapped this shot of my brother getting barreled. This picture has been an inspiration to me and my friends ever since. |
CREW: Randy
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Brett, Ray
TIME: 0700 - 0845, 1hr & 45 min.
WIND: Slightly offshore
WATER: Small waves, waist high, some shoulders mixed in with some close outs, easy paddle, sunny and clear.
Randy moved out of his temporary HB apartment on Thursday and got a hotel room for his girlfriend and the baby. He was set to fly out that night, so he wanted to get one last session before he left. He said he didn’t care about the wave size, he just wanted us to catch a last session together.
The surf in the South Bay was pretty flat until that moment. I didn’t expect much, since the swell was expected to arrive Saturday morning, but there was a little pulse that Friday. No, it wasn’t spectacular, but at least it wasn’t a stagnant lake. There were (what seemed) consistent waist high waves. Not all of them were holding shape, but there seemed to be some corners out there that looked fun for a little ride. We were ready: wetsuits bone dry and hot water jugs standing by.
We paddled out in front of 45th. We saw Ray and the knee boarder out in the water as usual. My brother gave a little chuckle before we paddled out, but it was for the sake of sarcasm from the lack of surf. I was actually optimistic. It was at least bigger than the last session at HB, and I had already been frothing from the recent lack of surf. I had to feed the meter, so I got out and ran into Brett who was just arriving. We had a little small talk about the morning’s conditions, and he paddled out just south of Randy. My brother was on his 5’7. I used to think that small boards were only for waves with power, but I learned from watching my brother that a lot depends on the surfer. Yes, a lower level surfer (like me) would struggle on that board. My friend Rick has tried, and still does try, to convert me to a fish board because according to him, “It’s better for the smaller L.A. waves.” Rick laughs at my brother’s boards and my attempts to ride them, but when I see Randy paddle into any wave and pull off a full scale of turns, it makes me feel like anything is possible. Despite the small surf that Friday morning, Randy still caught his fair share of waves on a tiny 5’7.
I didn’t bother with my back up 6’2 DMS. I had the juicy Merrick out there, which was great for the conditions. I can’t say I made any ground breaking progress. I caught a couple rights that I was able to carve the lip on and shoot just a little bit of spray. I caught two long lefts all the way to shore, and I still failed at carving the lip front side.
The benefit of having Randy was getting all the little pointers, here and there, from him. When I paddled back to him he told me that he noticed something on my front side turns. He said that instead of throwing my left shoulder forward to carve the lip, that I was doing the opposite and twisting my torso counter-clockwise (I‘m goofy). He said that instead of setting up for a carve that I was setting myself up for a layback snap. When I thought about it, it actually made sense. I realized that I sure as hell don’t do that when I’m going backside. I felt like an idiot that I never noticed that, but at the same time at least I have been practicing layback snaps even though I never knew it. THE MYSTERY HAS BEEN SOLVED! On my next wave I tried to throw my left shoulder forward, but I felt completely awkward doing it. It’s going to be hard to break that habit in the coming months.
We’ve had better sessions, and that morning it was just “okay.” I actually wanted to stay longer, but Randy was shivering his ass off. I said, “Don’t worry, where you’re going you won’t have to worry about that problem anymore.” I saw Shan’s car parked next to mine, and then I saw Cheryl locking up her car. They arrived late, but I was glad that she at least got to see my brother and wish him well. He caught Ray before he drove away, then they exchanged information since Ray plans to surf Bali. While we changed, the WHC pulled up. Apparently, they drove up to Oxnard to witness a beautiful scene with howling winds that caused some shitty ass surf. They ended up driving back to L.A. I was happy that they showed. Rick, John, and Manny were able to give their formal farewells to my surf hero.
I tried to pick his brain as much as I could while he was here. I at least learned a couple things from him: not to EVER ditch my board (even if a punchy lip from an overhead wave is about to crash on me), how to pump my board properly, proper feet placement, the difference between tail and nose rocker and how that affects the board in the water, trimming, carving, which swells are better for L..A. and Orange County, timing my paddle out, etc. I was sad to see him go, and it still bums me out to think about him gone. He arrived safely in Kuta, and I’m happy that he’s returned home with his family. The plan now is to visit him in the summer. The question is, “Will I be ready?”
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