CREW: Klaude, Christina
FLAKES OF THE DAY: Shan & Dais
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0700 - 0800, 1 hr.
CONDITIONS: If there was wind, then I didn’t feel it. Head high, sloppy, riptide, fast and racy sections, very few corners, mid tide. Things actually got better once the tide rose.
Last night Klaude and Shan asked me where I’d be surfing. I told them that I would be checking out 26th St. at first light, and I’d go to Porto if it was shitty. I also sent out the mass text to everyone. Cheryl was out of town, and Dais said he’d be there around 0830.
I got to 26th at first light. I didn’t like what I saw. There were some waves, but they looked small, and the peaks didn’t seem to be lining up at all. I missed Trestles. I sent out the text that I was changing locations and drove to Porto. I was even more disappointed when I got there; I was disgusted. What a travesty it was to see the shitty Porto surf after surfing Trestles. I cursed Porto. I took a look at the clock. I almost went home, but I convinced myself to at least surf for one hour, just one hour to get wet. I can’t get better at surfing on dry land; I had to paddle out.
It was cold out. I pissed in my wetsuit, and then I paddled out at 45th. There were people in the water, but I’ve seen worse. It didn’t matter that I was in a crowd. The peaks were so unpredictable that anyone had a fair shot at a wave. I paddled to the outside of the surfers and ended up in front of the tanks. A surprise right came through, and I actually got the slide. I was off balance, but I still forced an UGLY carve off of the lip. I reentered and fell on the last top turn. Either way, I was still really surprised that I got a ridable wave in those conditions, so I was happy.
Right after that wave something weird happened. The tanks got really small in the distance, and everyone started paddling towards the shore. I thought that I was getting sucked out a little bit. I paddled, and paddled, then the water got really choppy all around; I was in a fucking rip tide. Three other surfers and I got sucked way out. I was paddling for at least ten minutes trying to get myself out of it. Miraculously, I worked my way back to my original spot.
Waves began to break on the outside, but there was no shape in them. I wiped out on a wave and went back to sit and wait. I got another surprise right. It was smaller than my first wave, but I was able to get two turns on the lip before I kicked out. It was almost 0800, so I caught a close out all the way to shore. Even though the surf was shitty, I was surprised that I got two halfway decent waves out of it.
When I checked my phone, I saw that Klaude and Christina were at 26th. I drove over there to meet up with them, and I joined Klaude on the sand to help be Christina’s cheer leader. It was barely an hour from when I ended my session, and the conditions already got better. With the higher tide the peaks started getting clean. The waves were slightly mooshy, but short boarders were paddling into them without problems. I got a little mad. Watching from the sand I saw guys getting good carves, spray, 360s, etc. I had a lot to do this morning, so I had no choice but to turn around and go home.
Just like that, the conditions changed for the better. I hope tomorrow will be just as good.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
PATH OF THE URBAN SURF BUM, PT 2, TRESTLES: FRI 2.4.2011 EVE
CREW: SOLO
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 1600 - 1730, 1 hr. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: No wind (still), negative low tide, glassy, chest to shoulder high, soft, long, and ridable waves. Lulls were a little longer.
Shan had given me a call while I was reading. He asked if I was going to surf Porto in the evening. I told him where I was, and I had to take a moment to share how good life was. I polished off three short stories from my assigned readings, and then I took a look at my watch. It was getting close to 1530, and I knew that if I wanted a second session that I would have to leave, pronto. I hung my wetsuit, but it was still damp. I changed, grabbed my gear, and headed back to the trail.
I wanted to surf closer, but the same peaks were still crowded. The shore took on a different appearance, as rocks lay all over the exposed shore from the low tide. I mean it was really low! I saw guys walking out carefully, watching their steps over the uneven ground. Despite the low tide, there were waves. I couldn’t find my old spot; in fact I walked all the way past it and didn’t realize it until I reached the Cristianitos trail. I turned around and found a familiar branch that I put my stuff on earlier.
Just like this morning, there didn’t seem to be many waves coming through, and the crowds were still at the main peaks in both directions. Daylight was burning, so I went out again, still not expecting much. It was a long and painstaking walk to deep water. The rocks were slippery, and I probably looked physically challenged from a distance. I was worried about slipping and cracking my board. I finally made it out for enough to start paddling. There were two short boarders in the same area, and all three of us were pretty close. I didn’t like that feeling at first, but it didn’t become a problem.
I would say that the waves were maybe a tiny bit smaller from the morning, but still clean and fun. The main difference was the wait was longer. Also, some rogue sets would break on the outside without indication. I still got a lot of waves, and the evening session still blew the South Bay out of the water.
When the two guys left, a long boarder showed up, and we shared the peak for the last half of the session. My wave of the evening came in the form of a small four footer, but it was one of the best four foot right handers that I’ve ever had. The long boarder saw it, too, but I had the peak. He watched me the whole time, ready to paddle if I scratched. This wave was odd because the water was perfectly flat all around it. It was literally just poking out of the water. It looked so small, but the peak was curling, so I saw the potential in it. I didn’t think I would get it, but I dropped in and got three turns off of the lip. I kept stalling at the top after each turn, but the wave kept pushing me into each reentry. The peak was like a ball of water with a shoulder on the side. Clean waves … they’re amazing, and they sound different. I could hear the rush of the wave peeling away behind me, my rail carving into the face, the separation of water splashing back on the shoulder, and the simmer of the foam all the water to shore. They also put so much potential into small surf. My evening session was made, and it could’ve been the wave of the day for me.
I fell on some waves, and I was waiting for that “last one” before I left. I was still getting rides after the sun had set. I got my last right, and I grabbed rail just to ride it all the way to shore. I got greedy, stood up, pumped, hacked the lip, and then I slipped on the reentry. I had to call it after that because I had somewhere to be.
Staycation. Zero complaints. It was a special trip for me. I’m trying to sum up this whole experience in words, but I can’t. Actually, there is one complaint. Towards the end of the session I looked out at the sunset, and I felt alone. I wished that I had someone to share that experience with; something was missing.
I drove to Mission Viejo for sushi night at Zenko’s and met up with three of my close friends. I was starving. We put the owners in the negatives with an hour and fifty-five minutes of non stop eating. That’s all I have for now, expect more staycations.
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 1600 - 1730, 1 hr. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: No wind (still), negative low tide, glassy, chest to shoulder high, soft, long, and ridable waves. Lulls were a little longer.
Shan had given me a call while I was reading. He asked if I was going to surf Porto in the evening. I told him where I was, and I had to take a moment to share how good life was. I polished off three short stories from my assigned readings, and then I took a look at my watch. It was getting close to 1530, and I knew that if I wanted a second session that I would have to leave, pronto. I hung my wetsuit, but it was still damp. I changed, grabbed my gear, and headed back to the trail.
I wanted to surf closer, but the same peaks were still crowded. The shore took on a different appearance, as rocks lay all over the exposed shore from the low tide. I mean it was really low! I saw guys walking out carefully, watching their steps over the uneven ground. Despite the low tide, there were waves. I couldn’t find my old spot; in fact I walked all the way past it and didn’t realize it until I reached the Cristianitos trail. I turned around and found a familiar branch that I put my stuff on earlier.
 |
| I surfed a little bit north of here. |
Just like this morning, there didn’t seem to be many waves coming through, and the crowds were still at the main peaks in both directions. Daylight was burning, so I went out again, still not expecting much. It was a long and painstaking walk to deep water. The rocks were slippery, and I probably looked physically challenged from a distance. I was worried about slipping and cracking my board. I finally made it out for enough to start paddling. There were two short boarders in the same area, and all three of us were pretty close. I didn’t like that feeling at first, but it didn’t become a problem.
I would say that the waves were maybe a tiny bit smaller from the morning, but still clean and fun. The main difference was the wait was longer. Also, some rogue sets would break on the outside without indication. I still got a lot of waves, and the evening session still blew the South Bay out of the water.
When the two guys left, a long boarder showed up, and we shared the peak for the last half of the session. My wave of the evening came in the form of a small four footer, but it was one of the best four foot right handers that I’ve ever had. The long boarder saw it, too, but I had the peak. He watched me the whole time, ready to paddle if I scratched. This wave was odd because the water was perfectly flat all around it. It was literally just poking out of the water. It looked so small, but the peak was curling, so I saw the potential in it. I didn’t think I would get it, but I dropped in and got three turns off of the lip. I kept stalling at the top after each turn, but the wave kept pushing me into each reentry. The peak was like a ball of water with a shoulder on the side. Clean waves … they’re amazing, and they sound different. I could hear the rush of the wave peeling away behind me, my rail carving into the face, the separation of water splashing back on the shoulder, and the simmer of the foam all the water to shore. They also put so much potential into small surf. My evening session was made, and it could’ve been the wave of the day for me.
I fell on some waves, and I was waiting for that “last one” before I left. I was still getting rides after the sun had set. I got my last right, and I grabbed rail just to ride it all the way to shore. I got greedy, stood up, pumped, hacked the lip, and then I slipped on the reentry. I had to call it after that because I had somewhere to be.
Staycation. Zero complaints. It was a special trip for me. I’m trying to sum up this whole experience in words, but I can’t. Actually, there is one complaint. Towards the end of the session I looked out at the sunset, and I felt alone. I wished that I had someone to share that experience with; something was missing.
I drove to Mission Viejo for sushi night at Zenko’s and met up with three of my close friends. I was starving. We put the owners in the negatives with an hour and fifty-five minutes of non stop eating. That’s all I have for now, expect more staycations.
PATH OF THE URBAN SURF BUM, PT 1, TRESTLES: FRI 2.4.2011 MOR
CREW: SOLO
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: GOD
TIME: 0950 - 1120, 1 hr. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: No wind, sunny, extreme high tide, glassy, chest to head high, perfect, soft, long, and ridable waves.
I read an article in the 2011 JAN Surfer Magazine titled “In Defense of Going Nowhere“ by Brad Melekian. I didn’t even get to finish the whole article, but he wrote about taking a “staycation,” and that, basically, you don’t have to travel far for a little getaway. He suggested leaving your work behind, bringing some food, a beach umbrella, and only leaving of the water to eat or apply sun block. He suggested many other things to make the staycation legit, but I fell short on at least half of them. None-the-less, I had Friday designated to take a little staycation of my own. My plan was to leave at o-dark-thirty and head to Del Mar to surf the entire day. On Thursday night I bought a beach chair and umbrella. Early Friday morning I loaded two surf boards, a cooler filled with goodies, all my surf gear, and some books to read for class.
I was on the road by 0615, a little late, unfortunately. I still got to leave when it was dark. It’s really important to head out before the sun rises; that’s another reason why I like to surf early: the feeling that you’re up and out while others are sleeping, less traffic on the road, seeing the sky change from dark purple to a dull orange, and having the cool morning air numb your skin. Many thoughts came to me that morning. It was a special trip, and I didn’t even have much monologue for myself on the way, just music and the thought of surfing. My expectations were high, but I tried to quell them to save for any disappointment. My sights were on the concrete highway ahead of me, and my destination was Surf.
0800, I pulled up at Del Mar. I checked my car’s temperature gauge to see it was a ball shrinking forty-four degrees out. The cold, offshore, wind made my bare feet wrinkly and ashy, dying for warmth and lotion. I first had to take a mean ass piss. While I was pissing I felt a fart coming on. I pushed as I pissed, but I was so cold that I couldn’t feel myself. I didn’t feel the all knowing “pop” from the fart that I had, but I knew I pushed pretty hard. As I walked out to see the ocean, I felt something moist between my ass cheeks. Of course, I was in denial. The moistness then turned into a cold and wet feeling. “Please don’t tell me,” I said to myself. Sure as shit, literally, I discovered a wet spot in my boxers combined with the liquid around my ass cheeks getting cooler from the morning air; I sharted. Motherfucker, I thought, what a way to start the fucking morning. I believed it to be a bad omen. It definitely was NOT the way I wanted to start my staycation. I removed my boxers, wiped my ass, and took them with me. After all, those underwear have seen Iraq, ain’t no way I was gonna abandon them now. I walked to the sand, placed them by a volley ball court, and proceeded to the surf.
I saw an old guy watching the surf, too, his name was Brad. We talked about the conditions, and then he left to change. I watched the water … I watched it for at least twenty minutes trying to make it look good. It wasn’t. It was better than Porto but not what I packed up and drove for. The sets were inconsistent, a little racy, and the shoulders weren’t defined. It looked like Porto on an “okay” day. I could’ve given it a shot, but I’ve waited too long for soft perfect shoulders, and I wasn’t settling for less without more exploration. I turned around to get my shit stained drawers, but there were a bunch of Marines playing volleyball, and they put all of their belongings by my underwear. I felt my eyes water, for I was too embarrassed to go fetch them, and I had to leave a faithful companion behind. … Goodbye old friend.
I wiped my tears, got in the wagon, and headed to San Onofre. The beach access was closed on the base, so I had to find my way onto the post via the state park entrance. I saw droves of long boarders at Churches and Surfer Beach, but the waves looked so soft and perfect. I couldn’t park and change fast enough.
Armed with my board, glasses, sun block, digital camera, towel, and backpack, I headed out on foot. It was my first time surfing there alone, and my first time doing the hike from San O. to Trestles. I didn’t know what to expect, but I pushed forward on my pursuit for waves. The point at Churches was crowded. There was a nice long right, maybe only four feet high, but I didn’t want to compete with the bigger boards. I glanced at my potato chip DMS. Other people took notice of it, too. I wondered if the first session would end up in a debacle from being under gunned.
I walked for what seemed like miles. I saw a lot of good peaks, but they were crowded. I got frustrated and worried that the trip might end in vain. Thoughts of driving back to surf Porto crossed my mind; what a failed mission that would’ve been. I was walking through Middles when I saw the main trailhead from Cristianitos. I stopped because I knew there would be more people there, and to my south, behind me, were a pack of surfers hogging a peak. I looked out at the ocean and saw a couple small rights come rolling through. There was no one there. It looked like a good wave to me, being from the South Bay, but I couldn’t understand why no one was on it? It’s funny how the natural surfer instinct is to gather where other surfers are because “they know.” However, I took a chance and paddled out, isolated and alone for a couple hundred yards.
I didn’t expect much. I told myself that I had to be in a shitty spot. There was a clattering sound from the friction of the rocks whenever the water rushed on the shore. The water was cold but bearable. I paddled out with ease and duck dived a couple waves. There was no bump in the surface, and I thought that I must’ve looked like a fool out there. Randomly, a long peak with a right hand shoulder appeared. It didn’t look big, and I knew if I caught it late enough that I would be able to drop in. I turned, paddled, and I popped up on the shoulder as the wave broke. Never underestimate a wave. … The face opened up, mid speed, and long. I couldn’t even see the shoulder, but it wasn’t a walled up close out. The wave moved, and the open faced canvas moved with it. It was like the waves “warm welcome” to do whatever I wanted. I couldn’t believe the turns I was pulling off; I was pumped: eyebrows low and hard, cheeks puffed out with strong breaths of air, arms outstretched setting up the bottom turn to top, a crack off the lip, reentry, another puff of the cheeks, I’m going back up again, “SPLASH!” another hit, pump, going up again. … The cleanest wave since I’ve been home? It was right up there, I knew that. I paddled back stoked, but I still couldn’t believe it. There were so many endorphins rushing through my body that I was borderline nauseas. I asked myself if that really happened. My smile hadn’t even fading when a rare left came. It wasn’t as good as the right, but it was at the perfect speed where I didn’t feel rushed (mid speed). It was about shoulder high. I got some power pumps, a solid turn off the top, a little spray, hard turn with the nose pointed down, a couple more pumps, and one more top turn. That was the best left I’ve had in a while. What was great about those two moments was that for the first time I felt really good on my short board. I, and many others, doubted if I was truly ready for it. I know I’m not like my brother, in that he can surf shitty ass waves on a short board and make them look good. I, on the other hand, need really good waves to get my current potential out of my short board.
The other surfers at the crowded peaks had consistent waves all day. I, I had to wait just a little bit longer, but I had the whole fucking break to myself! I don’t think that type of thing is supposed to happen at a place like Trestles. Long story short, I got about six solid waves, consecutively, for the first part of the session. Every time I paddled back, there was another one on the way. For that first forty-five minutes, the time it took me to paddle back to the line and the time it took for the sets to come, were like clockwork. The next half hour kind of slowed down a bit, and one guy paddled close by, but that didn’t bother me at all. For the past couple months I’ve been frothing for waves that I could practice my turns on, and that’s just what I got. Going backside, I felt good on the top turns. My back foot was firmly planted on the traction pad. I felt in control and on the verge of doing more. The waves were so easy to paddle into. They looked mooshy, but they didn‘t bog out. There was no dump, but just enough power to sling you in and send you with enough momentum. I got close to a dozen waves, all good. The last fifteen minutes were slow, and I paddled back in at 1120.
I took my sweet ass time, took some pics, watched some other breaks, and then I ended the trek with an extremely lengthy hot shower (gotta love the military privileges). I drove back on base to see if I could get my military decal for my wagon. They gave me a temporary one that’s good for two months. Now I can park right on the sand without trouble from the MPs.
I found a table under a shaded area, ate my food, and read some short stories from Mark Twain. There was no need for a nap, for I would be at it again very soon.
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: GOD
TIME: 0950 - 1120, 1 hr. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: No wind, sunny, extreme high tide, glassy, chest to head high, perfect, soft, long, and ridable waves.
I read an article in the 2011 JAN Surfer Magazine titled “In Defense of Going Nowhere“ by Brad Melekian. I didn’t even get to finish the whole article, but he wrote about taking a “staycation,” and that, basically, you don’t have to travel far for a little getaway. He suggested leaving your work behind, bringing some food, a beach umbrella, and only leaving of the water to eat or apply sun block. He suggested many other things to make the staycation legit, but I fell short on at least half of them. None-the-less, I had Friday designated to take a little staycation of my own. My plan was to leave at o-dark-thirty and head to Del Mar to surf the entire day. On Thursday night I bought a beach chair and umbrella. Early Friday morning I loaded two surf boards, a cooler filled with goodies, all my surf gear, and some books to read for class.
 |
| Subaru Outback, the perfect surf wagon. |
I was on the road by 0615, a little late, unfortunately. I still got to leave when it was dark. It’s really important to head out before the sun rises; that’s another reason why I like to surf early: the feeling that you’re up and out while others are sleeping, less traffic on the road, seeing the sky change from dark purple to a dull orange, and having the cool morning air numb your skin. Many thoughts came to me that morning. It was a special trip, and I didn’t even have much monologue for myself on the way, just music and the thought of surfing. My expectations were high, but I tried to quell them to save for any disappointment. My sights were on the concrete highway ahead of me, and my destination was Surf.
0800, I pulled up at Del Mar. I checked my car’s temperature gauge to see it was a ball shrinking forty-four degrees out. The cold, offshore, wind made my bare feet wrinkly and ashy, dying for warmth and lotion. I first had to take a mean ass piss. While I was pissing I felt a fart coming on. I pushed as I pissed, but I was so cold that I couldn’t feel myself. I didn’t feel the all knowing “pop” from the fart that I had, but I knew I pushed pretty hard. As I walked out to see the ocean, I felt something moist between my ass cheeks. Of course, I was in denial. The moistness then turned into a cold and wet feeling. “Please don’t tell me,” I said to myself. Sure as shit, literally, I discovered a wet spot in my boxers combined with the liquid around my ass cheeks getting cooler from the morning air; I sharted. Motherfucker, I thought, what a way to start the fucking morning. I believed it to be a bad omen. It definitely was NOT the way I wanted to start my staycation. I removed my boxers, wiped my ass, and took them with me. After all, those underwear have seen Iraq, ain’t no way I was gonna abandon them now. I walked to the sand, placed them by a volley ball court, and proceeded to the surf.
 |
| Sure, it looked okay, but I really wanted something cleaner. |
I saw an old guy watching the surf, too, his name was Brad. We talked about the conditions, and then he left to change. I watched the water … I watched it for at least twenty minutes trying to make it look good. It wasn’t. It was better than Porto but not what I packed up and drove for. The sets were inconsistent, a little racy, and the shoulders weren’t defined. It looked like Porto on an “okay” day. I could’ve given it a shot, but I’ve waited too long for soft perfect shoulders, and I wasn’t settling for less without more exploration. I turned around to get my shit stained drawers, but there were a bunch of Marines playing volleyball, and they put all of their belongings by my underwear. I felt my eyes water, for I was too embarrassed to go fetch them, and I had to leave a faithful companion behind. … Goodbye old friend.
I wiped my tears, got in the wagon, and headed to San Onofre. The beach access was closed on the base, so I had to find my way onto the post via the state park entrance. I saw droves of long boarders at Churches and Surfer Beach, but the waves looked so soft and perfect. I couldn’t park and change fast enough.
Armed with my board, glasses, sun block, digital camera, towel, and backpack, I headed out on foot. It was my first time surfing there alone, and my first time doing the hike from San O. to Trestles. I didn’t know what to expect, but I pushed forward on my pursuit for waves. The point at Churches was crowded. There was a nice long right, maybe only four feet high, but I didn’t want to compete with the bigger boards. I glanced at my potato chip DMS. Other people took notice of it, too. I wondered if the first session would end up in a debacle from being under gunned.
 |
| I really tried to wait for a good set to come through, but time was wasting. Without a surfer on this wave, it's hard to get any scale. |
I didn’t expect much. I told myself that I had to be in a shitty spot. There was a clattering sound from the friction of the rocks whenever the water rushed on the shore. The water was cold but bearable. I paddled out with ease and duck dived a couple waves. There was no bump in the surface, and I thought that I must’ve looked like a fool out there. Randomly, a long peak with a right hand shoulder appeared. It didn’t look big, and I knew if I caught it late enough that I would be able to drop in. I turned, paddled, and I popped up on the shoulder as the wave broke. Never underestimate a wave. … The face opened up, mid speed, and long. I couldn’t even see the shoulder, but it wasn’t a walled up close out. The wave moved, and the open faced canvas moved with it. It was like the waves “warm welcome” to do whatever I wanted. I couldn’t believe the turns I was pulling off; I was pumped: eyebrows low and hard, cheeks puffed out with strong breaths of air, arms outstretched setting up the bottom turn to top, a crack off the lip, reentry, another puff of the cheeks, I’m going back up again, “SPLASH!” another hit, pump, going up again. … The cleanest wave since I’ve been home? It was right up there, I knew that. I paddled back stoked, but I still couldn’t believe it. There were so many endorphins rushing through my body that I was borderline nauseas. I asked myself if that really happened. My smile hadn’t even fading when a rare left came. It wasn’t as good as the right, but it was at the perfect speed where I didn’t feel rushed (mid speed). It was about shoulder high. I got some power pumps, a solid turn off the top, a little spray, hard turn with the nose pointed down, a couple more pumps, and one more top turn. That was the best left I’ve had in a while. What was great about those two moments was that for the first time I felt really good on my short board. I, and many others, doubted if I was truly ready for it. I know I’m not like my brother, in that he can surf shitty ass waves on a short board and make them look good. I, on the other hand, need really good waves to get my current potential out of my short board.
The other surfers at the crowded peaks had consistent waves all day. I, I had to wait just a little bit longer, but I had the whole fucking break to myself! I don’t think that type of thing is supposed to happen at a place like Trestles. Long story short, I got about six solid waves, consecutively, for the first part of the session. Every time I paddled back, there was another one on the way. For that first forty-five minutes, the time it took me to paddle back to the line and the time it took for the sets to come, were like clockwork. The next half hour kind of slowed down a bit, and one guy paddled close by, but that didn’t bother me at all. For the past couple months I’ve been frothing for waves that I could practice my turns on, and that’s just what I got. Going backside, I felt good on the top turns. My back foot was firmly planted on the traction pad. I felt in control and on the verge of doing more. The waves were so easy to paddle into. They looked mooshy, but they didn‘t bog out. There was no dump, but just enough power to sling you in and send you with enough momentum. I got close to a dozen waves, all good. The last fifteen minutes were slow, and I paddled back in at 1120.
I took my sweet ass time, took some pics, watched some other breaks, and then I ended the trek with an extremely lengthy hot shower (gotta love the military privileges). I drove back on base to see if I could get my military decal for my wagon. They gave me a temporary one that’s good for two months. Now I can park right on the sand without trouble from the MPs.
I found a table under a shaded area, ate my food, and read some short stories from Mark Twain. There was no need for a nap, for I would be at it again very soon.
I USED TO LOVE THIS PLACE: THU 2.3.2011 MOR
 |
| Of course. Fast racy sections, closing out, no open faces. The El Porto we all love. |
CREW: J
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0630 - 0800, 1 hr. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: Shoulder high, closed out, shitty overall.
Wednesday, being my longest day for classes during the week, I wore myself thin. I was dead tired by midnight, and I had to fight to get out of bed. I was woken up by J’s call. He was at Porto getting suited up. I headed out the door to make my commitment to him.
He was already in the lineup, and I paddled out at 45th to find him. I used my DMS board. I don’t think I’ll be using that Merrick anymore; I really just want to be on a short board consistently from now on. I met up with him in front of 45th. It was a cold morning, but at least the wind wasn’t up. There were a lot of heads in front of the tanks. Every wave that came didn’t have any ridable shape to it. J and I caught some, but we could only go straight, or the section ran away too fast. I didn’t get to pull off any turns. J left, and then I did at 0800. There was no sense to put money in the meter.
That morning’s session summarized the general feel of Porto lately: the surf fuckin’ sucks. Back at my car I saw people suiting up, stoked, and heading out. It shocks me every time. What’s to be excited about?
 |
| Your thoughts on this picture? What is this picture implying? |
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
A MAGIC WATER RIDE: TUE 2.1.2011 MOR
 |
| This was one of the many shoulders that was in front of the tanks this morning. I don't know the guy's name on this wave, but he's out there a lot, and he's really good. He rides anything from short to long. I actually envy this dude. |
CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: J
RAN INTO: Ray
TIME: 0630 - 0800, 1 hr. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: Very light on shore wind, sunny, clear skies, extremely high tide, mooshy long rides, consistent enough for a good time.
I didn’t surf yesterday. I made a small promise to make the most of my time surfing, especially since I haven’t really had a good session since the MLK weekend. Surfline had a shitty forecast for yesterday, so I opted to pass. I wanted to try out Bolsa or HB this morning, but I have to tie up some loose ends for my brother, locally, so I stayed put. J said he’d be at Porto in the morning, so I thought it would be a good excuse to get a session with him. Last night I sent out a text to both Shan and Jon to ask them if they wanted to surf. … I never heard from them. Oh well, not everyone can be a surf bum, and I’m blessed to have that privilege.
I got out of bed before six, changed into my wetsuit, and ate a gigantic banana. I was really jealous of this thing. It was so long and girthy; it put me to shame. Well, it was such a big banana that I had to take a tremendous dump right after. I had to take off that damn wetsuit and take a monstrous dump. I was running late, and I was worried that J was waiting on me. I text him as I warmed up my car. It was 0620, and J had just called to tell me that his alarm didn’t go off, so I would be surfing a solo session this morning.
I parked facing the ocean at the first set of stairs. There weren’t many people in the lot. I could tell that the tide was high. The inside looked a little consistent, the waves looked really mooshy, but I could make out a left going off in front of 45th and the right hander in front of the tanks. Despite the mooshiness, I saw the potential.
I paddled out right by the tanks; it was a long gawd damn paddle. Music and surf quotes ran through my mind (as always). For some reason Madonna’s “Material Girl” played in my head as I duckdived wave after wave. Yes, my mind is ridiculously random, and I’m also a sick bastard.
I used to LOVE surfing by the tanks. 45th was usually the crowded spot, and the tanks were the place to be to escape the main pack. Well, this morning and as of late, everyone has been hogging that peak. I paddled just south of all the heads over there and lingered at 45th.
Mooshy and clean. It was the typical South Bay morning that I know so well: high tide, mooshy waves, clean shape, and long rides. The only trick is catching the waves just a little late since there’s no backbone or power in them. The waves were about shoulder high, soft, and carvable.
The session was best when it was early. Guys with bigger boards were milking those mooshy waves. I got two right handers pretty fast, but I didn’t get long rides out of them. I dropped in, stayed on the high line, got one top turn, and then fought to keep my momentum. I realized what the problem was: I needed more momentum off the drop and should’ve picked the low line, as the high line was too boggy. I got another right which went all the way to shore. Too bad I fuckin’ slipped on the pop up and rode the rest of the wave trying to recover, and take what was left.
I saw Ray get a long right in front of the tanks. His wave never ended. Despite the decent conditions out there, I wasn’t necessarily getting the best shaped waves. I caught more rides that were fast, or I was too deep in the peak, and the section was too far ahead for me to catch. Since it was mooshy, it was hard to get the speed where I needed it.
I was thinking to myself how January was a frustrating month. I only had a few sessions that made me cream in my pants, and I was bummed that it was continuing. Shit luck, I guess? The Surf Gods must’ve felt sorry for me because, right then, I saw a bump in the surface start to form. 45th had this sand bar working this morning. Smaller waves would hit it, and then they would jack up, magically. It wasn’t even a plus sized wave. It looked about shoulder high and soft, but I paddled into the left shoulder as it hit the sand bar. A fucking miracle. I don’t remember every detail of the wave like usual. I think that when I got this gem I was truly happy to be on it, but I was also scared of losing it, so I literally just enjoyed that open canvas and stretched the experience as long as I could. There was no thought of practicing or carving, just freedom of expression. I did my best to spend some quality time on that wave, no distractions, just an empty mind combined with the board under my feet and the water under my board. I must’ve been on the mid line because I had momentum to spare. The wave was one of those slow open rollers; you can’t rush those rides. I did a gentle carve on the lip, reentered gracefully, bottom turned, got back on the mid line, and I just rode the wave going top to bottom until it ended.
It was about 0730 when the waves got a little inconsistent, and the wait for a good shoulder was longer. I got pushed out farther from the tanks. That’s where it was happening. Those guys were getting the good waves. 45th, where I was, wasn’t really doing it that well. I ended the session at eight, took some pics, and decided to start the rest of my day.
I’ve always said that all it takes is one wave to make the session, and that’s exactly what happened today.
Monday, January 31, 2011
DO WE HAVE TO SACRIFICE A VIRGIN? : SUN 1.30.2011 MOR
CREW: Klaude, Klaude’s dad, Dais, Cheryl, Shan
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Whiffle Boy
TIME: 0700 - 0920, 2 hr. & 5 min. (fed meter)
CONDITIONS: Overcast with rain late in the session. Shoulder high to head high on close outs. Ridiculous high tide, lonnnnnnnnnnng ass paddle out, rip current on inside, strong north current, better shape early, and then it started to close out.
I really wanted to drive to Trestles. I’ve been having shitty sessions lately, and I am in desperation for clean shoulders. I had to stay around town, so I told everyone that I’d check out 26th at first light; I wanted the free parking.
I almost got Jon to paddle out with me, but he couldn’t make it. I first drove to 26th, and there was no free parking anywhere. I took a look at the water, and it looked waist high. The tide was drowning it out really bad, so I texted everyone that I’d be at Porto. When I got there it was about 0645, there weren’t many people parked, and there were waves.
I paddle out by the tanks. This morning reminded me of yesterday. My first wave was a right. I got one turn off the lip, pumped, bottom turned, stalled on the lip, re-entered, and then the wave bogged out on me. Everything else I got after that was a close out. On my way to go back in, I saw Dais in the water. I told him I’d be back. I got to the sand, and Klaude told me he put some money in the meter for me. I still added change. When I got back to Klaude, Dais had already drifted close to the jetty. I expressed my frustration, and Klaude said, “Get out there and catch some waves.” He was right. I got caught on the inside trying to make it out; I don’t know how I paddled through. Unfortunately, I only got close outs for the second session. The sky grew dark, and it started raining. The on shore wind picked up, and the water became choppy, gray, and uninviting. I saw Shan and Cheryl warming up on the shore, but only Shan was able to punch through the surf. We both took off on a peak: Shan went left as I went right. He said he got a good ride out of it, but mine sucked.
I ran into Whiffle Boy in the water, and he was fighting the current just like me. Shan only stayed for twenty minutes, but I didn’t blame him. The sets got head high and started walling up. I got to say bye to everyone in the parking lot. I’m happy I got that one wave, but I’m still not satisfied. I’m beginning to rethink how I spend my time surfing. It may be worth it to drive further for a spot with good waves.
Klaude and I topped off with some burgers and pancakes from Metro Café. I guess that made up for the shitty surf. And then the fucking Lakers lost to Boston, which made the day shitty again. …
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Whiffle Boy
TIME: 0700 - 0920, 2 hr. & 5 min. (fed meter)
CONDITIONS: Overcast with rain late in the session. Shoulder high to head high on close outs. Ridiculous high tide, lonnnnnnnnnnng ass paddle out, rip current on inside, strong north current, better shape early, and then it started to close out.
I really wanted to drive to Trestles. I’ve been having shitty sessions lately, and I am in desperation for clean shoulders. I had to stay around town, so I told everyone that I’d check out 26th at first light; I wanted the free parking.
I almost got Jon to paddle out with me, but he couldn’t make it. I first drove to 26th, and there was no free parking anywhere. I took a look at the water, and it looked waist high. The tide was drowning it out really bad, so I texted everyone that I’d be at Porto. When I got there it was about 0645, there weren’t many people parked, and there were waves.
I paddle out by the tanks. This morning reminded me of yesterday. My first wave was a right. I got one turn off the lip, pumped, bottom turned, stalled on the lip, re-entered, and then the wave bogged out on me. Everything else I got after that was a close out. On my way to go back in, I saw Dais in the water. I told him I’d be back. I got to the sand, and Klaude told me he put some money in the meter for me. I still added change. When I got back to Klaude, Dais had already drifted close to the jetty. I expressed my frustration, and Klaude said, “Get out there and catch some waves.” He was right. I got caught on the inside trying to make it out; I don’t know how I paddled through. Unfortunately, I only got close outs for the second session. The sky grew dark, and it started raining. The on shore wind picked up, and the water became choppy, gray, and uninviting. I saw Shan and Cheryl warming up on the shore, but only Shan was able to punch through the surf. We both took off on a peak: Shan went left as I went right. He said he got a good ride out of it, but mine sucked.
I ran into Whiffle Boy in the water, and he was fighting the current just like me. Shan only stayed for twenty minutes, but I didn’t blame him. The sets got head high and started walling up. I got to say bye to everyone in the parking lot. I’m happy I got that one wave, but I’m still not satisfied. I’m beginning to rethink how I spend my time surfing. It may be worth it to drive further for a spot with good waves.
Klaude and I topped off with some burgers and pancakes from Metro Café. I guess that made up for the shitty surf. And then the fucking Lakers lost to Boston, which made the day shitty again. …
Sunday, January 30, 2011
IS IT A WAVE?: SAT 1.29.2011 MOR
CREW: Klaude, Klaude’s dad
FLAKES OF THE DAY: Shan, Cheryl
RAN INTO: no one
TIME: 0645 - 0915, 2 hr. & 15 min.
CONDITIONS: Another sunny and beautiful day. High tide, long paddle out, sucking inside rip, a couple shoulders mixed in with mostly walled close outs.
I had to stay local on Saturday since I had homework to do. Shan, Cheryl, and Klaude said they’d meet me there. I didn’t expect much, but I hoped that things would finally get better at my local break. On Friday afternoon I repaired my DMS board, so I looked forward to paddling out on it again. I was also thankful that my brother’s Wade Tokoro board didn’t get damaged when I used it.
I paddled out in between the tanks and the stacks. When I first got out, there were scattered peaks all along the beach. It looked really promising. El Porto and 26th St. can get really good on a high tide. Yeah, it’s harder to paddle into the mooshy waves, but once you get the slide you can get a long one.
For the first half of the sesh I got three waves that had a little shape, but one of them was a nice, long, left. I got one top turn before stalling on the lip and falling. I got to pump my board a little, so that was really fun. When I got out to put change in the meter, I ran into Klaude and his dad with their photo equipment. Klaude said he didn’t see me at all out there. After I fed the meter I paddled back out, in hopes to get a good shot for them. I got one clean right when I got to the line. I had to grab rail to stay on the high line. I forgot if I got a couple pumps or not, but I remembered that it was the only legitimate wave that I got the rest of the day. After that I got close outs and wiped out. I got caught in a rip current on the inside twice; I paddled for minutes without even moving.
When I made it back to Klaude he told me that he didn’t get any pics of me on that one right, but that he saw me get it. I didn’t mind. Picture or no picture, I’m there to surf. At least I got two good waves, but still … it was such a tease to only get a couple of waves. I’m waiting for that day of good local surf.
FLAKES OF THE DAY: Shan, Cheryl
RAN INTO: no one
TIME: 0645 - 0915, 2 hr. & 15 min.
CONDITIONS: Another sunny and beautiful day. High tide, long paddle out, sucking inside rip, a couple shoulders mixed in with mostly walled close outs.
I had to stay local on Saturday since I had homework to do. Shan, Cheryl, and Klaude said they’d meet me there. I didn’t expect much, but I hoped that things would finally get better at my local break. On Friday afternoon I repaired my DMS board, so I looked forward to paddling out on it again. I was also thankful that my brother’s Wade Tokoro board didn’t get damaged when I used it.
I paddled out in between the tanks and the stacks. When I first got out, there were scattered peaks all along the beach. It looked really promising. El Porto and 26th St. can get really good on a high tide. Yeah, it’s harder to paddle into the mooshy waves, but once you get the slide you can get a long one.
For the first half of the sesh I got three waves that had a little shape, but one of them was a nice, long, left. I got one top turn before stalling on the lip and falling. I got to pump my board a little, so that was really fun. When I got out to put change in the meter, I ran into Klaude and his dad with their photo equipment. Klaude said he didn’t see me at all out there. After I fed the meter I paddled back out, in hopes to get a good shot for them. I got one clean right when I got to the line. I had to grab rail to stay on the high line. I forgot if I got a couple pumps or not, but I remembered that it was the only legitimate wave that I got the rest of the day. After that I got close outs and wiped out. I got caught in a rip current on the inside twice; I paddled for minutes without even moving.
When I made it back to Klaude he told me that he didn’t get any pics of me on that one right, but that he saw me get it. I didn’t mind. Picture or no picture, I’m there to surf. At least I got two good waves, but still … it was such a tease to only get a couple of waves. I’m waiting for that day of good local surf.
OC SESH- HITTING THE ROAD: FRI 1.28.2011 MOR
 |
| A beautiful morning at HB. |
CREW: Solo Bolo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Jim and Adam (Randy’s HB friends)
TIME: 0800 - 0945, 1 hr. & 45 min.
CONDITIONS: Sunny and gorgeous morning. Crowded, but not like Porto. Tide was unfortunately going from mid to low, chest high, and fast.
 |
| This was how it looked when I got there, but it started to get worse once I paddled out. |
My first week in school was over, and I needed time to unwind. I didn’t have school on Friday, so I thought I’d take a drive down south. I could’ve chosen between Trestles, San Onofre, or Del Mar, but I had a lot of errands to do, so I decided to keep it an OC sesh. I woke up kind of late, so I hit the road as the sun was rising.
It was my first solo road trip for a surf session. Usually I have my brother, who’s in Bali now, or I roll with Rick, but he was at work. I loaded up my car and watched the sky go from dark blue to orange over the road ahead of me. I was listening to my favorite music, and I highly anticipated some good waves. The drive was really nice because I had time to think. I love the feeling of driving in the morning with a destination, especially on a work day. All the other commuters were heading to work or to their obligations. Me, I felt like I was playing hooky or going AWOL, like I shouldn’t have been on the road at that time, but I was. I was on the road for myself. I was on the road for surf.
My brother gave me his state parking pass before he left. He wanted me to use it to surf HB, as much as possible. It meant a lot to make it out there. One, to make good use out of it, and two, to follow my brother’s guidance to surf better waves whenever I can. It doesn’t take a gynecologist to know that HB is a better spot than Porto.
El Porto can be good sometimes. It is so rare, though. But when it’s good, you forget that it was shit, and just enjoy the moment. Lately, after the MLK holiday, El Porto hasn’t been good at all.
There were a lot of cars scattered throughout the HB lot. I made my way to Brookhurst and parked at a familiar location. I walked out to take a look at the water before I changed. I saw three to four foot sets that were clean and peaky. From my experiences surfing there, it was probably one of the smaller days that I’ve seen. I changed and ran into my brother’s friends, Jim and Adam, that he introduced me to before. We talked for a bit, and then I paddled out between towers three and four.
It was a short paddle out because of the tide. I wish I would’ve got there earlier because, despite how good it looked, the lowering tide made the waves a little too fast and closed. Long story short … I didn’t have a very good session. I caught waves that were just too racy. By the time I popped up, the section was taking off ahead of me. The waves got a little dumpy, and I got pitched over a couple times. To my north and south were crowded peaks that produced some better waves. I saw guys getting nice long rides and small barrels. Actually, guys next to me were getting some good rides, too. I also saw guys eating shit like me, so I wasn’t alone.
I didn’t feel confident out there. It was my first time there without my brother. He’s such a good surfer. It always motivated me to see him doing so well out there. The HB crowd is different. I’ve learned that where the waves are better, there are better surfers. I didn’t want to look like an idiot out there. I don’t know if I looked like an idiot, but I know I didn’t look like I belonged. I had to use my brother’s Tokoro again. That board is an inch shorter than my DMS, and much tinier than my JS. I guess that could be part of the blame but only a small part.
I was on a damn paddle mill machine, meaning that the damn current was pulling strong. The whole session was a burning work out just to keep my place. Everyone was drifting. Only another guy and I opted to fight the current. I was so tired, but I remembered that my brother told me I needed the training, so I took it for what it was worth.
Well, the session ended a bit unfulfilled. The morning drive was the best part of the day. Even though my expectations weren’t meant, it felt good to hit the road and clear my mind. I hope to do a little road surf trip every week.
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