NIPPLY, FRIDAY 23DEC2011

Crew: Klaude, Rick, Dave T., Gary, Tom

Time: 0715-0845

Conditions: Sunny, freezing, offshore wind chill, 3-4 ft, mooshy, high tide, long-peaked closeouts with occasional shoulders.

            Last night both Klaude and Rick told me that they had today off. Both of them were stoked to actually get a weekday session going on. Sometimes I get caught up in my own surf bum ways and forget that not everyone gets to surf every day. Rick was torn, wanting to travel but at the expense of a sketchy forecast. Klaude only had one question, “What time will you be there?” 

            It’s 0630 when my alarm goes off. It’s cold, I’m in my blanket’s grasp, and I check my texts. At 0545 Rick said he’s surfing local. At 0618 Klaude said he’s already out the door. Groggy, I brush out last night’s machaca from El Tarasco’s. I brush so hard that the brush slips and stabs my gums; I hate it when that happens. In an effort to change my bad habit of not eating in the morning, I devour a banana and take my vitamins. Forty-degrees . . . that’s what my wagon’s temperature gauge reads . . . unbelievable. Last spring, one of the coldest mornings I surfed was at Oceanside, forty-four degrees. I’ve never seen a morning this cold here yet. 

            Street cleaning’s on Fridays, but I snag a spot that’s good until 0900. From what I can see, the waves aren’t spectacular enough to make me change in a hurry. It’s pretty much what I expected according to the forecast and after being here for . . . my fourth day straight? The new swell that came in on Wednesday improved the surf a little but not much. There are still more closeouts than there are shoulders, and I’m thinking that this high tide may be helping a little bit. I can tell that the offshores are a little strong because the trees are moving. Cold water, cold air, and wind make me a little hesitant, and then I think about my friend Klaude. Even when the conditions were shitty and even in cold weather, he’d come to the beach to hang out after his shoulder surgery; I shouldn’t be complaining. Gym time and surf has made me sore, but it’s not every day I get to surf with Rick and Klaude during the week, so I’m more-so paddling out to see them than to get waves. 

            Since it’s still kind of early, a lot of surfers are still at home sleeping. I easily spot Klaude but can’t find Rick. The sand is biting-cold, but the water’s warmer than anticipated. Within a couple steps it’s deep enough to lie on my board. Rick has the full-on hood, booties, and gloves setup. He’s with Dave T. and Gary. He tells me about his trip to Big Bear and plans for the holidays. Klaude says he woke up on his own at 0500, frothing to paddle out. “Not bad today,” he says. “I thought it would be small. There’s waves!” I do something that I’m not accustomed to. I shut my mouth on my own thoughts about the swell, sensitive not to kill his stoke or be a downer. I’m trying not to be that guy that says: “Nah, it sucks. It was better yesterday.”

       

          I maneuver around talking to all the fellas and sitting in different spots. And whattaya know, I find myself in perfect position, right on the shoulder, for a long peak forming in the distance. Rick backs off and doesn’t snake me—highly unusual. The wave opens up for a long ride, longest of the week, all the way to shore. My feet are out of place, so no turns, just pumping, trimming, going high and low all the way to the sand. Rick throws me a shaka in the distance. Gary says, “Nice ride!” as I paddle by. It’s nice when your expectations are exceeded unexpectedly. 

            I’m not aggressive; I’m fine with just hanging out and being in the water. At about 0830 the grom patrol arrives. About a dozen kids filter down from the hill; it’s about to get crowded. The local guys are killing it. Roy, obviously, gets his pick of the waves. Don, a bunch of older dudes, all throwing buckets; they just own this spot. Long hair and Magnum P.I. mustaches; they rip. Tom enters the lineup, and now it’s hard to get a wave without anyone on it. It’s almost 0900, so it’s time to go anyway. Leaving the water, I see Christina stretching on the sand, but I can’t say hi because I need to avoid a ticket. I drive by Khang, Dais, and Kotaro who just arrived. I give them my report, and I’m off.

            It was a nice morning being out there for a quick sesh. Now I’m home, Lauren and I are gonna start our day early to do our final Christmas errands. It’s just another mellow morning in the South Bay.

THU 22DEC2011

Crew: Francis, Khang, Dais, and Kotaro

Ran into: Manny A., Dave T., & Jimmy B.

Time: 0830-1030

Conditions: Sunny, warm, offshore, 3-4 ft, fast, walled, high to mid tide, closeouts with occasional corners, weird rip current.

            Still, I can’t get up at first light for the life of me. Blame it on the late nights, the cold, me picking up my routine at the gym again, or maybe it’s those warm blankets that keep me in bed. One thing’s for sure, I’m definitely not that 0530 early riser that I used to be. Today it seemed like a good idea since high tide was early.

            It’s 0745. I’d like to stay in bed, but it’s street cleaning today, so I have to move my car anyway. The jetty looks small as I drive by. I debate on surfing El Porto for a change, like I always do, but just the thought of paying the meters has me continuing my drive. I’m about to give up on free parking until I find two spots on Marine.

            Walking down the hill I can see the ocean. It looks closer than usual because of the high tide. There are still some long, walled-up peaks in the mix, but some of the peaks have that shoulder at the end which looks appealing. It’s another crowded morning, for as we approach Christmas everyone is off. 

            It’s a long paddle out; it takes forever to get to the lineup. My back muscles feel weak; I’m in need of some rest after today. I end up next to Manny A., Jimmy B., and Dave T. Dave picks off a couple of long lefts before I move into his spot. They are all yelling at each other talking about pumpkin-spice pancakes. Manny says, “Matt! Pumpkin-spice pancakes?!”

            “Where?”

            “Uncle Bills.”

            I know exactly what he’s talking about; I’ve been there before. Poor guy, only if he knew that Metro Café serves the best pancake dish: the Sautéed Banana House Special. I just got here anyway, so pancakes are out of the question. I pick off the next left which almost doesn’t let me in. The section’s stretching out long, and then I pump down the line for the whole ride. It’s too fast for me to get a turn, but it’s better than a close out. On the way back to the lineup I see an A-frame break and peel away. I get more rides that are set up more for practicing weight shifting and feet placement to milk the ride. I’m also able to get one turn on a couple; I’m actually having a lot fun, but something’s missing. I’ve been around my friends for the last couple days, and it’s odd not having anyone to share my stoke with. The crowd’s so thick today in front of the main peak. I have a feeling that Francis is in there somewhere. 

            About an hour into my session I spot Dais to my north. I’m able to paddle right next to him, board to board, undetected because of the sun. I haven’t seen him in almost a week. He introduced me to their friend Kotaro who’s visiting from San Diego. Khang is in the lineup too, he says Francis just left. I tell them that the waves were pretty good where I was.

            I don’t know if it’s the tide, but once I find the fellas the shape disappears. The big sets come in close to four feet but they’re just long, shapeless lines. I paddle back to my old spot, but there’s a rip current there that’s pulling people south and outside the break. Kotaro, Dais, and I paddle forever just to get back in position. Khang takes off to join the masses; that’s where the better waves are. Further north in front of Rosecrans the waves are much bigger and more consistent. Our area has momentary lulls while Rosecran’s big, curling lip can be seen in the distance. I see guys pull-in but get pinched inside. Some other guys are cranking good turns. We three work the inside, picking off smaller waves that have shape. 

            Eventually I join Khang. “I’m just going for the closeouts now,” he says. In another fifteen minutes I’m walking back up the hill to my car.

            I expected a little more today as far as shape, but it was still worth it I guess. If I’m right, the South Bay is supposed to get smaller starting tomorrow and into the weekend. I just checked Surfline. Can you believe that Trestles was working today? There’s also some SSW this weekend, but I’m a little hesitant to get skunked again. But sitting here in my living room, reading over this post, I’m still itching for another ride.

GOOD THINGS HAPPEN . . . , WED 21DEC2011

Crew: Khang, Francis, Dave, & Ryan

Ran into: Jack & Jimmy B.

Time: 0815-1030

Conditions: Sunny, warm, offshore, 3-4 ft, fast, walled, mid-low tide, hollow closeouts with occasional corners.

            With the old, walled-up swell making its exit and the new swell arriving, I hoped that today’s shape would improve somewhat. It was an easy decision to make—stay local. While there’s surf predicted in the South Bay, I may as well stay around here instead of wasting gas at the chance of getting skunked. The same crew from yesterday was down, but this morning we’d also have the edition of Deathwish Dave. 

            I told Ryan last night that I’d pick him up by 0730, but I wake up at 0715 and hit the snooze button a couple times. I shoot him the text that I’m running late. When I pull up to Natasha’s, he’s barely waking up and starts rushing to grab his gear. I tell him to take his time. Right now everything is chill: no school, no work, no rush. Driving by the jetty the surf looks small, but as soon as we get to Parks we see some closeouts, but the inside has some better shape. After circling around once, we find free parking on Highland Ave. Dave drives by and honks as we change. There’s a high feeling of optimism in the air. I’m hoping for the best; there’s no way that I’ll go five in a row without a good surf. It’s not possible; today has to be the day!

            From the sand I can tell that the conditions aren’t ideal, but I can already see the new swell trying to work its way against the walls from what’s fading. Ryan hits the water first and finds Francis. It’s a crowded morning, crowded enough to pass as a weekend almost. Since we’re late, or what I like to call “the second shift,” the local rippers (Don, Roy, and those other long-haired killers) are going for their “last ones.” I get to the lineup, say wassup to Francis, and immediately go for the first wave that comes my way. It’s a wall, but I get hung up on top, and the water gives-way as my board and I participate in the violent explosion. I wipeout a second time, crushed by the lip at mid face while going left. For some reason I’m still smiling. I laugh, and tell Khang that I’m eating shit. During my debacle he paddled out undetected. “Yeah, I saw that!” He says. He also tells me that he got really nauseas last night and then felt a bruise on his cranium from yesterday’s accident.  It just goes to show how dangerous head trauma can be out here. If it doesn’t affect you right away, you can have late concussion-like symptoms. 

            There’s a current pulling south this morning, but we have an area all to ourselves. I see Jimmy B. and Jack from the WHC. They ask me how Trestles was, and I tell them that the south wind was on it. They’re surprised that I didn’t score. 

            By now I’m complaining to Khang that I can’t get a wave with turns. Just then, a long peak forms in the distance, and I’m in position to chase the shoulder. It’s the occasional corner that I’ve been hoping for. It looks barely two-feet high, but it jacks up once I drop in. Finally, a wave that’s lined up and gradually building. A couple pumps get me to the open shoulder. My first top turn lacks speed, so I don’t get any arch off the tail. I pump harder for momentum on my second attempt and get a good frontside carve half way down the face. Stoked, I look back for recognition from Khang, ignoring the remnants of the ride. I have a girly moment, self celebrating with a smile, laugh, and a loud “Wooooh!” all to myself in thigh deep water. Back at the lineup I know that my day is made. It doesn’t matter what happens now; I got the best ride I’ve had since Thanksgiving! 

            The crowd thickens around us. Dave joins the group, but he’s nursing his left shoulder. He says he hurt it during his last session. Most of us are catching closeouts. Ryan doesn’t look as stoked; it may be from the slight drop in size compared to yesterday. The smaller waves have the best shape. They look small but stand up towards the inside, nice and fast. I manage a couple other rides with shape but not many. Dave . . . he really lives up to his alias Deathwish. Man, with the combined swells, some waves double up, connect sections on the inside, and turn bottomless over the drained tide. Dave paddles into this double up; he has it. But it connects with another section that’s walled up. He tries to shift to the tail but ends up airdropping, chomped by a heavy dumpster. Ballsy . . . that’s what I tell him when he resurfaces. 

            God damn, wave of the day here. Francis and Khang just caught a wave. The next one has better shape, and again, I’m right by the shoulder, or I thought I was right by the shoulder. As I’m popping up I realize I’m a little too deep. All I know is that I’m going left, but I see the lip throwing-out as I’m dropping in. I crouch as low as I can, grab my rail, and set my line tight to the curl. I hear Khang say, “Yeah, Matt!” Looking down the line I see the cylindrical shape of the tube with the lip going over. I’m not in there long, but it’s long enough. Not full-on, but semi barrel. Jesus . . . after weeks of seeing my friends get some cover up, I’m finally graced with a little shampoo action myself. I let myself get pinched because I’m on the verge of colliding with Sauce and Khang. I resurface trying to compute what just happened as the fellas are pumping me up, enriching my moment. I must say . . . I would’ve enjoyed it if I was alone, but to share it friends made it mean much more. 

            Still, it’s dangerous out here. I catch a nasty closeout, it’s hollow, I’m inside, and I see an eternal lip folding over before I’m enveloped. It’s an awkward wipeout when the curtain comes down while you’re standing on your board. Nearing 1100, we all make our way out separately. I’d like to grab breakfast with Natasha and Ryan again, but I’m hoping to catch Lauren before she goes to work. Ryan and I stop by the new Schatt’s Bakery in the Gundo, get some pastries, sit, and converse over coffee. He tells me about his travels to Panama, Chile, and Brazil. He’s had a good trip down south, but he goes back up north tomorrow. We take a couple pics before I leave. At least I know I got a buddy in Oregon to show me the surf, but it’s a little hard to imagine being up there. Another friend made through surfing; he’s a cool guy. 

            Back at the apartment Lauren’s already gone. I clean up my place, eat a little breakfast, and organize the rest of my day. I’m enjoying my winter break.