SURF VS SCHOOL PT 5, WED 30NOV2011

Crew: Francis & Shan

Time: 0800-1100, 3 hrs

Conditions: 4 ft, decent shape mixed with closeouts, semi-consistent, overcast, and some waves were hollow.

            On Monday morning I got suited up and head towards the beach. It was flat. Monday was a lay day, and Tuesday I had school. On Wednesday I manage to wake up at 0630. I’ve barely had four hours of sleep. I don’t sleep much, and now the shit’s catching up to me. Especially since I’ve been working on a fucking presentation the whole weekend; I am drained mentally and physically from lack of rest while consistently surfing. Also, I’m still battling my cold. 

            It’s overcast with a hint of offshore wind. I can’t tell what the water’s doing until I drive down 45^th. El Porto is jam packed all the way up to the exit. I see guys rushing the water, scattered peaks everywhere, and a forgiving tide which is a sharp contrast to last week. I thought about surfing here, but it’s packed, and if it’s good I’m not paying for parking. I text Francis to give him the report. 

            I score a free spot by the lifeguard station. It’s almost too good to be true. The local guys are on it, and there are scattered peaks, good shape, and long rides. I still take my time warming up and then paddle straight out. It’s not as crowded as the weekend, but the main mass of surfers are in front of the tower. I sit towards the outside but the consistency is slower. I keep eyeing an unridden left that’s breaking further south until I give-in and make my way there. It doesn’t take long before I get a right, but I fall on my bottom turn. One of the bigger waves comes, and it’s another right. I paddle into it, it stands up, and I have a sense that it’s going hollow behind me. It throws me off, and I wonder if I should go for turns or try to get barreled. By the time I make up my mind the section closes out. 

            Francis arrives a little later and spots me. He makes the waves look easy, but I can’t get my turns down this. I finally get a really good left. It’s fast, but I’m on the shoulder, so I have a chance to stay on the face. On my way back up to transition into my top turn, the wave stands up; it’s for sure going hollow. I’m determined to stay on my line, so I try to turn off the lip, but since it throws-out I get pitched. I VENT my frustration to Francis when I get back. That was a “barrel wave,” but I didn’t recognize it early enough. I should have just pulled in, hunkered down, and went straight. 

            I spend the rest of the session waiting for that same wave, but it doesn’t come. I spot Shan in front of 26^th into the second hour. Francis cracks two turns off the lip on a right, releasing some spray each time. To the south we see a guy get shacked before he gets pinched. Everyone around us lets out a unanimous, “Whoaaaaa!” 

            On every paddle back to the lineup I feel winded. I don’t know if school, stress, or lack of sleep is all catching up to me, but I tell the guys that I’m done for the day and catch one in. Today it wasn’t the waves it was me. I feel like my surfing is plateauing, or maybe I just need some rest and this semester to end.

SURF VS SCHOOL PT 4, SUN 27NOV2011

Crew: Francis, Klaude, Christina

Time: 0615-?

Conditions: 2-3 ft, crowded, high tide, inconsistent, racy

            I can’t remember if I showed up with Francis at the same time, but I know that I chose the wrong board for that day. I whipped out the 5’8 Lost board. I knew the swell was backing off, but I hoped for some decent shape where I could crank out some turns on this low-rocker board. Instead, the peaks were long, small, and racy. Francis and I started in front of the 26^th St. tower, but gawd damn it got so crowded . . . again, even more than yesterday. There weren’t many waves to go around to begin with. I paddled north to escape the main throng of surfers and ran into Gary, Dave T., Jimmy B., and Rick. They had a little area all to themselves, and for a minute I was happy to have found some breathing room. I caught a right, but the section was running away. Meanwhile, I looked behind me and saw Gary flying down the line; I dropped in on him. He rides a Bonzer, and he’s one of those old guys that rip. In fact . . . pretty much all the old guys at 26^th rip. I apologized and caught more closeouts.

            When Francis arrived he brought half the crowd from 26^th St. with him. It was so crowded over there that everyone started filtering north; there was just no escape from people. I was catching waves but they were mostly closeouts with a couple pumps. I thought to myself how I couldn’t wait for school to be over so I could go somewhere else to surf.

SURF VS SCHOOL PT 3, SAT 26NOV2011

Crew: Francis, Klaude, Christina, and I can’t remember the rest

Time: 0615-?

Conditions: 3 ft, crowded, high tide

            On Friday morning I woke up feeling like shit. Lauren’s cold finally caught up to me, so I took it easy on Friday. Francis and I hit it up again early on Saturday, but it was a tad smaller than Wednesday. Everyone in the water talked about how “yesterday was the day.” Well, we definitely missed it. On Saturday morning it got crowded early. I can’t remember any of my rides for the life of me. When Klaude showed up he surfed by Roy in front of the towers. I paddled around trying to get a spot to myself. About six Japanese dudes came out of nowhere and infiltrated our spot. As I paddled away from them I saw Klaude doing the same. “Fuck that,” he said. “I know they’re my people but . . . there’s like ten of them!” 

            I didn’t get any significant rides. On the way back to my car I ran into John A. and Manny A., Rick’s brothers. They said they had fun and they’d be a little further north tomorrow. Serious crowd that morning. . . .

SURF VS SCHOOL PT 2 (double sesh), THU 24NOV2011

A Thanksgiving sunset

Crew: solo

Time: 1500-1645, 1 hr & 45 min

Conditions: 3-4 ft, walled-up on the bigger sets, mostly close outs with occasional shoulders, negative tide, drained out, onshore wind, nice weather, and EMPTY.

            After the morning session I came home, showered up, and got ready to face Lauren’s family to be the “monkey in the middle.” I figured that as long as I ate as much food as possible, complimented her mom’s cooking, and didn’t stray from using utensils that I’d be all right.  I was dressed and ready to go, and then Lauren told me that her parents wanted her to spend the night, especially since her sisters came home from college. The original plan was to do an early Thanksgiving at Lauren’s and then go to my sister’s house in the evening. Since she wouldn’t be accompanying me I told her that I wasn’t going. This hurt a bit. She left the house, and with a turkey sized appetite I was stuck eating dry spaghetti from four days ago. A nappy-poo ensued. 

            At around 1400 I figured that I’d better work up another appetite, so I packed up and headed back to the beach. The drive down Vista Del Mar wasn’t positive. I didn’t see anything happening at Hammers. I cruised through the Porto lot. A couple guys were out, but it wasn’t until I got to the end of the lot that I saw some waves. It was hard to tell if it was rideable or not. The tide was completely drained and shallow, and there were still four-foot sets rolling through. The waves broke close to shore with long peaks, but some of them tapered off sharply at the end producing a small shoulder. Rideable? There were only a few heads out there. I watched a couple guys go, but they kept getting caught behind the sections. 

            I knew I had to paddle out regardless. I was adamant on being famished before the big meal; that’s what’s so awesome about surfing: driving yourself to the point of famine and exhaustion, and then that first bite of food you get tastes soooooo gooooooood. 

            I went to Parks . . . no one out, but there weren’t any waves there. I found an open spot on Rosecrans. I really missed Lauren, though. I felt guilty—selfish. I pictured her with her family. She said her mom made extra food for me. And there I was, alone, on a day for families by myself pulling a solo evening sesh. Maybe I’m an asshole. . . .

            I didn’t expect much. This was a paddle-out just to burn calories. I only went a little north of Rosecrans where I spotted two guys. It was a little sketchy walking out. The waves were a solid four feet and bigger on the plus sets, fast, walled, and breaking close to shore. I stood in the shallows for a while waiting for the lull. I finally chanced it and only had to duckdive one wave. 

            It was an exclusive group. Even in front of the snack stand, there were only a couple guys. We were the only antisocial degenerates out there. For shits-and-giggles I paddled into a couple closeouts, no biggie. The peaks consistently broke in the same spots, and I sat on the left. The next one that rolled through was walled, but it had that taper I was talking about earlier. I was so far on the shoulder that I thought I was going to scratch-out, but it jacked up fast, and next think I knew I was propelled down the line with speed. The section was racy but makeable. I pumped three times but lost balance right before I got to the open face. I blew it, but that didn’t matter; there were rides.

            Since my forehand turns still suck, fast waves are good for me right now; the momentum keeps me from bogging out. On the next left I made sure to keep my balance. I pumped, got to the open face, and got two turns. I felt good, especially seeing that the guys around me couldn’t make the sections. I must’ve been doing something right. 

            The shore pound on the bigger sets was brutal. Another guy tried to join us but got caught inside for a while, on such a short paddle out to the lineup. I eventually drifted to the next peak and started catching rights as well, getting two turns, maybe three on a couple. I love surfing with friends, but I enjoy my solo sessions too. They’re all business. Not too much talk, just silence, reflecting, awareness, and existing. Each ride becomes more personal, etched and ingrained only for yourself to recollect. 

            The lulls were short with plenty of waves to go around, but the wave of the day didn’t go to me. One guy took off deep on a right; I didn’t think he would make it, but he got so much speed that he flailed his arms, unbalanced, until he got to the shoulder. Another guy and I hooted him on. We acknowledged his ride when he paddled back. 

            My last wave was another right, fast but still keeping me on the shoulder with each turn. I got to the shallow water again with a satisfied grin, not as hungry as I was in the morning but still ready to do some damage. 

            Changing at my car, the surfer with the wave of the day was walking up the hill. I didn’t expect a greeting, as my view on people is cold any way. The guy ended up talking to me, introduced himself as Elian, shook my hand, and wished me well. What a cool guy. 

             I drove to the valley with salt water still trapped in my sinuses. It was a small gathering of family and friends, a modest celebration. I got to see my cousin from Maui that I haven’t seen in months. Turkey was followed by Kahlua cream pie and ice cream, and then my brother-in-law whipped out the PS3 for some Modern Warfare 3. I missed Lauren, but I made the best of the day: double sesh followed by a feast. Bring on Christmas.