ONE CALIFORNIA WEEKEND: PART II, SUN 15JAN2012 MOR

Loc: Santa Cruz

Crew: Al

Time: ?

Conditions: Freezing with howling sideshore wind, sharky, isolated, high tide, smaller surf, 2-3 ft.

    We have a late start this morning. Thanks to Pabs suggestion to buy a UK HangAir drying system, my wetsuit isn’t damp like Al’s. It’s another cold morning as we start our drive, but on the way to Three Mile we can see white caps in the ocean; it’s windy. We recon Three Mile first. There are about eight heads sharing a right-hand point break, the waves look a little mooshy, and the surf is considerably smaller than yesterday. 

  

     Again, Al has a morning shit attack, so we drive to Four Mile to use the porta potty there. Three Mile definitely looks better. There are still a couple people here, but the shape is even worse. Once Al is done with his shit, we check out another spot called Steven’s Creek, but it looks bad as well; everything does. It looks like a bad, blown-out day at El Porto. There is just too much wind and not enough swell. I’m so close to calling it a lay day. It’s sunny, but the wind is just making everything colder. Regardless of how I feel, I let Al make the call, which means that we’re paddling out no matter what. 

     By the time we change and make it down a sketchy cliff trail, there are only four groms at the point. However, the waves do look rideable. It looks like Churches on a windy day when it’s blown-out, but there’s still some shape. I’m not looking forward to the chill factor, but we paddle out and make do. Just like Four Mile, the inside is a little unpredictable. I paddle until I feel a boulder underneath, and then I have to walk it out a little further. I paddle over clean, three-foot rights on the inside before getting to the point. The wind is knocking the waves down early, so the only chance to get into them is to catch the whitewash as they’re breaking. Al goes to the top of the wave and gets a ride. One of the groms rips; he knows this wave and isn’t phased by the conditions. I’m up next, but scratch-out on the next set. The grom comes back and catches another with ease. 

     The tide’s still getting higher, and the waves start to get mooshier. I finally get some rides, but they don’t materialize into much. They turn into pumpy whitewash that go a distance, but are turnless. 

     Forty-five minutes later, it’s just me and Al; the groms are hiking back up the trail and going home. Al yells at me in the distance and says, “It’s sharky, huh!” I didn’t even think about it, but it’s just us out here. It’s cold, windy, choppy, and eerie. I don’t like it, and I start to psyche myself out a little. We barely surf for an hour and a half, and catching my last wave is hopeless. I scratch-out on one, and lucky I do because I realize after that it would’ve led me straight into the rocks. With the tide at its highest, the waves shift and break danger-close to the cliffs and boulders. My last wave fizzles, but I’m just glad to leave this wet misery. 

     I feel my face go numb as I watch Al crank two turns off a small right all the way to the inside. The wind doesn’t let up on our way back to the car, and thank god for our hot water jugs that we packed with us. My fingers are so numb that I can’t even button up my pants. 

     We head back to Ferrell’s for donuts and then stop off at Shawnti’s parents’ condo to watch the Packers play the Giants. The weekend’s events hit me, as I pass out on the couch for a good half hour. From there they take me on a little cruise through Capitola before we head to Fu Lam Mum in Mountain View for some Chinese food. We leave about a half hour later after watching others get served before us. I guess only Chinese money is good here. We then head to Tong Soon Garden in Santa Clara and order shrimp noodle soup, beef chow fun, walnut shrimp, and kung pao chicken. 

     Completely full, we watch Innersections 2 at Al’s house, both agreeing that Jamie O’Brien has the best section. At 2130 I say my goodbyes. They offer me to stay another night, but I think I’ve stayed long enough. Besides, I’d like to give them a chance to enjoy their weekend together too, as I’ve been taking up a lot of their space. But what they don’t know is that I spent a half-hour last night drawing pictures of penises on stick-it notes and hiding them throughout their apartment. I’m sure I’ll hear from them soon. 

     I call Lauren at 2145; I’m on the road. The drive doesn’t go as smooth as the drive up. I go through Al’s coffee and my giant Rockstar by the time I reach the 5S. I buy a double-shot Starbucks drink and pull over to piss three more times before reaching El Segundo. 

     The drive through the Tejon Pass nearly kills me. I go from doing eighty mph to forty-five because the fog gets so thick that I can’t see anything in front of me. I let a big rig pass and follow it until the weather clears. It’s about 0300, and even though I see my apartment I have to pull over into the alley and piss again. I lay myself down next to Lauren; she’s snoring and knocked out. So far for late night bootie. I shoot Al a text letting him know that I survived, and I struggle against the caffeine before finally falling asleep. 

     Now it’s been three days since I’ve been home. There hasn’t been any surf locally, and the next pulse of swell will be on Friday. Lauren’s birthday is also tomorrow, and school starts on Tuesday. It’s good to be home, back to reality and back to real business. I’ve learned something on this trip. I have so many friends that I haven’t seen in months, some years, and the same excuses are always given: I don’t have the time, or it’s too far of a drive. That’s bullshit. Most of my friends don’t even live as far as the valley or Orange County, and I just drove to Sunnyvale, Sacramento, and back in a matter of days. The last time I saw Hayden was during his wedding in 2008, and there’s no excuse for that. I think about my other buddies and how long it’s been since I’ve seen them. It’s time to change and reestablish those relationships before another year goes by and phone calls between each other become few and far between. Also, it’s nice to know that I am welcomed up north to get some Santa Cruz surf. I know for sure I’ll be back. I got to see new things, family, and friends all on one short, grueling, California weekend.