A RARE DOUBLE SESSION DAY: TUE 4.19.2011 EVE

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Dais & Klaude
TIME: 1900 - 1945, 45 min.
CONDITIONS: A little onshore wind, choppy, crumbly, gradual, 2-3 feet.

    I got home from school at about a quarter to seven. When I exited the 105W onto Imperial Blvd., I couldn’t help but notice the stillness of the palm trees. It was the same in front of my apartment; I couldn’t feel a breeze in the air. The thought of clean and glassy evening surf marinated in my mind. I told my girlfriend that I’d be rushing it for an evening session, and she wanted to come along.

    On the way there, I saw signs from the American flags displayed throughout my town that there was onshore wind. When we pulled into the El Porto lot I noticed a lot of surfers around 45th. I decided to park by the bathrooms because there were only a couple people at that peak which was a big surprise.

    On the way to the sand I saw that Klaude’s van was parked close by. I hurried out to the water to see if I could find him, but when I got to the peak he wasn’t there.

    The current was strong, as the surfers sharing the peak were either drifting away or struggling to maintain position. I wasted no time. Those guys were probably out there for a couple hours. I . . . I barely had any time to surf, and I was well rested.

    The sky was still overcast with the sun only making a short  appearance before it sunk in the horizon. The waves would form off of a slight bump, but the peak would break as soon as it hit the sandbar. If it wasn’t for the wind, there would’ve been clean little waves, for the swell still produced consistent rideable waves with a manageable lull in between. I bogged out on a couple of rides, but I did have one memorable wave. Everyone else was out of position, and I had the inside of the peak all to myself. I caught the wave early. All I could really do was pump and go down the line. A surfer tried to drop in on me, and we both locked eyes as I approached just mere feet away. He pulled out. I pumped and continued to shore as I passed another guy that waited on the inside. I caught it all the way to shallow water, so far away that I walked all the way back to Lauren in order to paddle out at the same place again.

    When I got back to the line up, I noticed Klaude and someone else heading towards his van. I motioned to Lauren to let them know we were here. It was about 1945 by that time, so I caught a close out to shore. It ended up being Klaude and Dais. We stopped to talk for a little bit; I was happy to have run into them. They said that this morning’s write up gave them a little itch to surf. They weren’t the only ones.

    I’m beginning to change my mentality of how I conduct my surf sessions. Before, I had a hard time surfing less than two hours. Now, I realize that even an hour or forty-five minutes is manageable if you’re on a time constraint. I hope to sneak in these little hit and run sessions in the future.

CATCHING THE WINDOW: TUE 4.19.2011 MOR

My camera sucks. After my session I parked by the bathrooms to see if I could get a good pic.

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0745 - 0845, 1 hr.
CONDITIONS: Zero wind at first, switched to a faint onshore, low tide, 3 feet, a little disorganized, lefts and rights, severe overcast.

    Failing to find the balance between school and surf, especially with my semester ending next month, I decided to surf on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays since those are my lightest days. My alarm was set for 0600, but I stumbled out of bed at 0700. Waking up late was a good thing for a couple reasons. One, low tide was really early, and I wanted to paddle out after the tide filled in a little. Two, I read an article dated 16 MAR 2011 on the Surfer Magazine website, http://www.surfermag.com/blogs/how-to/page/4/, written by Brad Melekian titled “HOW TO SURF BY YOURSELF EVERY DAY (IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA).” One of the things he mentions is surfing at odd times of the day when the crowd is thinning out instead getting more packed, so I thought that getting a late start might actually help.

    As I warmed up the car I noticed that none of the trees’ leaves were swaying in any direction, a good sign. I pulled up to 45th and saw a vacant parking spot on the hill. Score. I had exactly one hour to surf, which was fine because I have a paper to write this morning. I looked down and saw that there was no onshore wind messing things up; it was the perfect window of opportunity to get my quick fix for the day.

    I jogged down to the water and the tide was obviously low. There were quit a few people out. The main peaks, even 45th, had swarms of black rubber bees hovering about. The tanks, which are usually desolate, had a little crowd there but smaller. I jogged in between the tanks and inserted myself between three surfers. Yes, I know that “inserting” yourself between surfers can be bad etiquette, but it was crowded enough that I would’ve been all the way in front of the smoke stacks if I wanted to be all by myself. Either way, it was the trail end of the crowd and probably an undesirable spot. I didn’t care.

    The guys there looked a little frustrated. I recognized two of them, French or Brazilian. I hate to stereotype, but they have accents, and they aren’t Hispanic. I paddled out with a purpose, avoiding the breaking waves and squeezing in the channels only having to duck dive once. I saw the irritated looks on their faces that said, “God damn, why did he have to come here.” I smiled, tried to let off a positive vibe. By all means, if any waves came I was gonna let them have the first couple.

    The water was so glassy, but the waves were a little disorganized. Some of the peaks were doubled up, some were long and closing out, and some were short and tall with a clean little shoulder to paddle into. Summed up in into one word, this morning was “unpredictable.”

    I hope those guys didn’t resent me for it, but a wave came straight to me without anyone else going for it. It was a racy left with a little face. It was good for a few pumps and trims. I turned around and paddled my hardest to get back to the line. Another one left came. The deformed section actually opened up at the midpoint, which allowed me to do my impression of a front side top turn that came out sloppy. Regardless, I didn’t think I’d get so lucky so quick. I paddled back and saw the French guy watching me. I smiled, threw up a peace sign, he smiled back, and then we both directed our attention to the baby seal that was playing past the line up.

    This is how glassy the water was. Thanks to the windless atmosphere, the peaks didn’t break until the last second, almost like a hand with curling fingers. The lip seemed to be frozen in time, defying gravity, purposely stalling to see if the untrained eye would notice. Some of the peaks looked so smooth like a hill of water, more of a display you’d expect to see in a museum and not the ocean. The overcast gave the water a metallic grayish light blue color. I looked at my submerged board and saw the reflection of the sky, everything was in layers: the water had slight wrinkles that resembled a sheet of Saran wrap, miniature ripples moved in opposing directions, and my board was immersed in the dark green screen that grew dark and colder down below.

    Exceeding all expectation for what Goofy Kook would call a “hit and run” session (refer to http://goofykook.blogspot.com/2011/04/493-hit-and-run.html), another left appeared. There was nothing technical about this ride, but I trimmed smooth and stylish, more so enjoying the ride than forcing anything on it. The joining right hand section approached for a close out. I bottom turned and tried to hit the lip but fell. All in all, still a fun wave if you ask me.

    I must have sold the spot, for more surfers approached the peak. What comes around goes around. “Why did they have to come right here?” I thought. Oh, the irony.

    I paddled further south to the edge of the tanks, but I didn’t want to venture as far as 45th. I shared a peak with this small Japanese shortboarder that most of my friends know (unfortunately I don’t know her name) before five other guys showed up. I had a perfect right, one of those short and tall peaks that I described earlier. Too bad that Japanese chick was in my way trying to paddle back out. I turned towards the crumble to avoid an accident.

    My last wave was a closeout, but all I wanted was a quick ride to shore because my time was up. I picked up some milk at Rite Aid and returned home for a hot shower. Wow . . . I know it wasn’t perfect out there, but . . . that was the best one hour “hit and run” sesh that I’d ever had in my life! This morning wasn’t about catching an epic ride; I just wanted something to hold me over until the next time I was in the water. I wanted that sensation of being on a wave ingrained in my mind that I could think of throughout the day. Thank you, El Porto. I know it’s been a “love-hate” relationship, but I hope we can be on better terms now.

STAYCATION SESSIONS, CHURCHES & MIDDLES: THANK GOD FOR COBBLESTONES SAT 4.16.2011 EVE

CREW: Klaude and Dais
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: J
TIME: 1400 - 1645, 2 hrs. & 45 min.
CONDITIONS: Slight onshore, low tide, 2-3 feet, clean, lefts and rights.

    As we left Del Mar, Klaude noticed the time check at 1:11 P.M. It seemed significant with this morning’s triple five time check as well. We talked about the morning session; they had fun. We also talked about the company we were in, how everything was mellow, and how it all still added up to a good time. I . . . I was really frothy for some good surf. I didn’t feel at the least bit satisfied with the morning session. My lunch I ate was undeserved; I barely even worked up an appetite. We accepted the fact that the surf was small, but we just hoped that the cobble stone bottoms around San Onofre would provide some good shape. We listened to more surf tunes as we drove past the crowded state park entrance. There were people parked all the way on the bluffs; we’ve never seen it that packed before. We looked for J at his campsite, but his phone was dead, so we couldn’t get a hold of him. We’ve never seen the camp grounds that packed either. Marines, freshly returned from Afghanistan, took over most of the parking and picnic spots. Much deserved, I appreciate their service.

    The surf gods were kind to us, as there was an open parking space all the way towards the north near Churches. Before we even stepped out, we could see that the conditions were pristine compared to Del Mar. Clean little two and three footers consistently sprouted up at scattered peaks, and throngs of longboarders were all getting their fill in. What was expected to be an overcrowded day was not reflected in the line up. Sure, there was a crowd in the water, but not more than any other weekend. Maybe it was the small forecast that kept people at home or the NBA playoffs? We didn’t know and didn’t care.

    I wiped the drool off my chin. “Let’s do this!” I said.

    We changed as we watched the beautiful right handers open up in front of us. We chose to do some exploring further north to our usual spots, but we had to stop short. Why? Because there were two vacant peaks just north of Churches; we weren’t even by Middles yet!

    We all glanced at the break, and then I asked Dais, AKA Nostra Daisus, to make the call. Dais said, “It looks good over here.”

    “I don’t care, we can walk further north if ya‘ll want,” I said.

    “All right, let’s keep going.” We walked about five more feet. “But it does look good over here though!”

    The consensus was made, and I stumbled along the slippery exposed cobblestones as I made my way to thigh deep water. Everything just felt so much better: the water had less texture, the wind was weaker, the waves were breaking consistently in close proximity, and the sun’s rays were set to “warm” instead of “bake.” I duck dived two perfect lefts as I made my way to the line. I was recharged. The stoke that I had the night before reinvigorated my surfer soul. I turned to look at the cliffs off of Basilone road; it was so picturesque. We were going to score. It was destiny, undeniable, we would eat, eat hearty.

    I caught two lefts before the fellas even got to the line up. There was only one surfer sharing it with us to the south.

    Klaude paddles up and says, “I love this place. The smell of the seaweed . . . this place is alive! Doesn’t it remind you of home?”

    I thought about Maui and wondered if those sensations reminded me the island. I thought about Napili, Front St. Lahaina, Honolua, Windmills. It was too much to consider, I returned to the present. I don’t know how, but I got too damn lucky. First of all, we had the place all to ourselves with one other guy. Second, I fought the current to stay in the same spot, and little peaky lefts kept coming my way; it was like clockwork, a wave machine. On the button, the lulls were short and the waves would come. Another thing, Trestles is predominantly all “rights,” but there were actually a lot of lefts! Wave after wave, I caught most of them all the way to the shallow end. It was magnificent, such a low tide with still so much potential.

    The only problem was that the waves were really weak. We all had to pump our boards to keep up with the sections or we’d bog out. It was a session for going down the line and not practicing anything technical. I still experimented with cutting back and throwing the tail on the face, but it was to no success. I looked pretty awkward trying, so I went back to just pumping and going down the line. I even crouched down low and shifted to the front of the board to keep momentum which resulted in long rides, watching the building shoulders before me.

    Dais and Klaude may have struggled a little because of the waves’ lack of power, but they still had good wave counts. I told them of the luck I had at my peak and tried to get them to go for the waves when they came. The wave of the afternoon came on a plus sized A-frame. It had to be an A-frame because Klaude and I split the peak perfectly. It was the only wave of the afternoon with a steep drop. I stuck the landing and pumped my board on the building wall. I looked ahead and saw Dais just outside of my path cheering me on. It was another long ride. I turned and saw Klaude remounting on his board towards the inside. We were both stoked when we got back to the lineup.

    The lulls increased and we worked our way towards Middles. I got greedy, paddled further north, and ended up empty handed. I paddled back just in time to watch Dais snake Klaude on a right. It was a funny moment for them, as they kept giving each other shit over the whole situation.

    We all strove for our last waves, trying our best not to paddle in. Klaude rode one to shore first, I followed suit, and then we tried to call waves for Dais as he fell on a final mediocre wave. As we changed in front of Churches, the waves got even better and kept rolling through; it was unbelievable. The conditions didn’t let up at all, and Churches was absolutely firing. We pulled an evening session just short of three hours and were wiped, done, exhausted. As we drove away we spotted J. We stopped, chit chatted a little, and then we were on our way to dinner. We ate AYCE sushi for three hours at the secret spot. It was their first time their, and they loved it. It culminated a perfect evening session which cancelled out the poor surf from the morning. We were back in L.A. by 2200.

    An epic day, the drive to San Onofre saved us. I can’t find the words to describe the essence of what I felt. Great surf followed up by the tasteful delights of raw fish; they even had the playoffs playing as we ate. Our mission was accomplished. I wish every staycation could end the same.

STAYCATION SESSIONS, DEL MAR: ATMOSPHERE OVER SURF SAT 4.16.2011 MOR

CREW: Klaude and Dais
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Rick, Gary, Michaelson, and Tim
TIME: 0815- 1015, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Slight onshore, high tide, 2-3 feet, breaking really close to shore, shallow, not what we drove for.

    As usual, one day out of the weekend is dedicated to driving somewhere for surf. Last weekend we went to County Line for the first time, so the bar was set to score for another consecutive weekend. Del Mar was in our sites, and I planned for an early day.

    I couldn’t sleep Friday night. I watched a little bit of Innersections and Modern Collective, and then I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The swell forecast was small down south, but the anticipation of riding perfect shoulders kept my mind a hundred miles an hour. With only three hours of shuteye, I packed my lunch and gear for the day at 0445. As I loaded the wagon, I got the call from Klaude saying that they were running a little late. I sat with the engine running as they pulled up. Their equipment was loaded up rather quickly, we were strapped in, and we noted the time check of 0555. The distant horizon was already changing to a light blue as we merged from the 105 onto the 405S.

    By the time we were driving through Carson, Rick gave us a call and said he was passing Seal Beach. Once the sun rose, Klaude whipped out his camera to snap a pic. I put on the Sebastian Tellier station on my Pandora to set a relaxing mood, and then Dais requested to hear “Levrolution” by American Royalty, the intro to Who is J.O.B. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a great song, but it’s a damn letdown to listen to some kickass surf porn sounds if the surf for the day isn’t firing. Fingers crossed, we parked, headed to the shore, and surveyed the scene before us. Well, the forecast was right, at least swell wise. Not much surf was expected, and it definitely showed at Del Mar. We caught the high tide, some waves wanted to break on the outside, but they reformed and turned into shorepound. The good news was that the line up only had a few heads, and the winds were off shore. We greeted Rick, Gary, and Michaelson, and then we changed.

    On the sand, we squinted, imagined, watched, and tried to make waves out of what we were seeing, but the reality was that the surf failed our hopes. We still paddled out and caught some waves. I didn’t catch anything worth remembering. Due to the tide, the waves were breaking close to shore. Every time I caught something I could see the water being sucked back over the shallow sand. The rides were fast with a little bit of face before they closed out. Dais and Klaude were having more fun than I, but I felt a little let down.

    Gary paddled out next to me and said, “You don’t have any control over that. I’m just happy, happy to be out here without a crowd of people around; I’m stoked!”

    Gary, on his Bonzer, milked those fast and shallow rides, robbing them for everything they had. He even hit the lip and showed the bottom of his board before he fell.

    “That was good!” said Klaude and I.

    “Yeah,” Gary replied. “But I didn’t stick the landing.”

    Shit, we thought. That didn’t matter; the old Venice vet was out there showing the young bucks how the West was won. I’m glad that my boys got to meet Gary and Michaelson. Along with Rick, those guys grew up during the Dog Town era, and they always have good stories about the history, and what things were like in Venice during those days. Dais and Klaude, being Venice alumni, respected all of that.
    After two hours I was over it. The rest of the guys left their boards on the shore to body surf some shore break. The rest of the morning, into the early afternoon, was spent with the rest of Rick’s guests. We observed beach goers, snacked, read, lay in the shade or in the sun, talked story, and enjoyed life on the sand.

    At 1300 we walked out to the water to see what it was doing. The waves started to break but still a little close to shore. The offshore winds picked up, and the surf was unappealing. We made the call to go to San Onofre for the second half of the day.

    Let’s face it; the surf was crap. Okay, and of course, our lacking beginner abilities didn’t help either. The best part of that morning was enjoying a summer like day with good people. It was a positive atmosphere with strangers becoming friends in the midst of the beautifulness of it all. Surfing brings people together, and I can always appreciate that.

THE QUICK FIX: THU 4.14.2011 MOR

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0715- 0845, 1 hr. & 30 min.
CONDITIONS: Offshore winds, light texture on water, high tide, a little swampy, liny, not much shape, a few corners.

    On Wednesday morning Shan, J, and I planned to meet at Porto for a morning sesh. Surfline had given a green rating for the local spots, so we had hoped for the best. However, on Wednesday the wind was onshore early. It provided choppy and crumbly surf. J and I departed, while Shan showed up late to make the best of things.

    Thursday morning was all on an impulse. With my first semester of taking upper division courses at a four year college, surfing has taken the back seat to my priorities; but Thursday was a must.
    I scored free parking on 45th, I saw that the winds were slightly offshore, and the water looked a lot cleaner. I could tell that the high tide drowned out the waves, but the clean conditions looked inviting. Shitters had the main bulk of morning surfers, while there were only two people by the tanks. I took my chances at 45th by myself.

 My surrounding environment used to mean so much to me, but I think with the lack of time that I have to surf, but lately, it’s just been all about the waves. That morning, the waves weren’t really happening. I caught a couple rides that closed out fast, or they were so messy that the sections looked deformed. At times, popping up on a wave at El Porto can be like gambling. You have to ask yourself, “Will this wave actually have shape, am I going straight, is this going to just be a closeout, will the face open up, can I get a turn, etc.?” A couple sections ran away fast, and I tried to force a top turn without much luck.

    I made my way to the tanks and said hi to the guys there. They are local regulars, not the aggro type but the real mellow older vets. The waves seemed like they were going to break, but then they rolled all the way to the inside and finally broke. The ones I did catch got mushy and bogged out after the popup. I worked my way back to 45th.

    There was one really significant wave of the day. For a while, I’ve been trying to get down my front side carves. My brother said the problem was that I had my upper torso set up for a layback snap instead. On that morning, I decided to experiment and see if I could pull off a layback. On a left, a really ugly one, the section actually opened up. After going down the line I saw that the wave was meeting up with the right hand section. Making a conscious effort, I bottom turned, rotated my shoulders counter clockwise, pushed the tail down the face, and lay myself down in the white wash. By all means, this was not pulled off beautifully, but while I lay in the water I actually felt my board under me in a recoverable position even though I never got back up. Either way, it was only the second time that I was able to get that similar sensation of almost pulling it off. Hopefully in time I can get more good lefts to practice on.
   
    I called the session after an hour and a half. I’m pretty sure that it would’ve been better on a lower tide, but I had to make the best of the time I had. I was satisfied with the session, Porto provided the “quick fix” that I needed until the usual Saturday surf expedition.