Location: Zeroes
Crew:
Klaude, Dais, Daichi, Tom
Conditions:
3 FT, cold, inconsistent, high tide.
I was still in Massachusetts when Klaude
sent me the text. “Thinking about 0s this weekend,” he said.
When I landed in LAX, Bri was there to meet
me. The energy is so different on the West Coast. There are so many things we
take for granted, one of them being so close to the beach and not just any
beach but a beach you can surf. Also, the friggin’ traffic. After driving
through NYC, I will never complain about rush hour traffic in L.A. again.
After a day of celebrating my return,
Klaude called me. “So what’s the deal?” he asked.
“Fuck, well . . . I want to surf, but my
roommate blocked my car in. Either I’ll have to meet you later or you’ll have
to pick me up.”
“Yeah, let’s go, dude.”
#
It’s 0530 when Klaude pulls up. I give
Briana a kiss on the cheek before I go. She wants me to stay in bed and sleep
in with her, but she knows how much this session means to me.
“Tell Klaude I didn’t give you up that
easy,” she says.
#
Sitting in the van with KK, it’s like I
never left. I tell him how NY and Boston was, and how much I missed the surf.
He fills me in on the sessions that I missed out on. We pick up Daichi and head
back to KK’s where Dais is waiting for us.
Sunset looks flat as we pass it and so does
Malibu. When we park off the highway at Zeros, we can hear waves breaking. We stand
on the guard rail for a peek.
“There’s lines yo,” says Klaude.
He’s right. It looks good, but I don’t
think we should start sucking each others’ dicks quite yet, not until we see
the water.
“You guys trunking it?” I ask.
“Nah,” says Dais. “It was cold here last
time.”
Cold? I’m thinking. It was so hot when I
landed, and my bedroom last night was a goddam sauna. How could this not be
boardshorts weather?
#
I throw on the short-sleeved 2/2, grab the
Tokoro, and head down with the boys. I’m not sure what happened to the lines we
saw, but it still looks fun out there. The consistency doesn’t look as good as
my first session here. Where I sat wide last time is breaking too close to the
rocks. The main peak is the only place giving consistent waves, and the lulls
are long for anything to swing wide.
#
Tom and Klaude paddle out first. When my
feet touch the water, I can’t believe how cold it is. I know that Nicholas
Canyon is north of L.A., but I didn’t expect the water temp to be this much
cooler. I imagine how cold I would’ve been in boardshorts.
I sit on the inside away from the pack to
start things off. Surprisingly, I get two quick waves. The first is a left that
closes out, but the second wave is a right. It’s leading straight into the
rocks, but I do a tight, backhand carve that redirects me into the foam. I
don’t mean to, but I set myself up for a perfect cut back, but I have to kick
out because of the rock. To be honest, if the rock wasn’t there, I’m not sure
if I’d be able to complete the maneuver by whipping myself back around, down
the line.
After these two waves, things begin to slow
down. The main peak works between the lulls. Plus sets roll through, closer to
four-feet, but they are walled. I gamble and head back to my old spot, south of
the point. Roy gets the best waves, but my spot has me too deep. When the waves
come, I pop up, but I can’t clear the big rock on the inside. I pull out while
the guys on my outside get the waves. I move towards the top of the wave. The
next set disperses the lineup. I’m all alone with one out the back. I catch it.
Dais is on the inside, hooting me on the drop, but all it is is a drop. There
is no open face.
I’m frustrated. More people show up to surf,
but there aren’t enough waves. Daichi, Tom, and Dais work the inside. KK
converses with guys at the main peak.
Giving up, I sit wide to the north. I
should be alone, but the influx of late-risers has me fighting for the scraps.
A wave breaks wide. I can’t believe it. It’s a peak that’s shifted out of
place. I’m gunning for it, just me. I paddle into it and slide down. Even
though this is an inside wave on a rising tide, I’m surprised at how it’s
lining up. An instant grin plasters itself on my face. I climb the wave at
midface to do a check-carve off the top.
“Hey!”
I turn my head. I dropped in on someone.
“Shit!” I kick out. When I turn around I see the wave close out, followed by
the surfer I snaked. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
He waves it off and paddles back out.
I make the mental note to avoid him the
rest of the session.
#
Roy and Tom have left. The conditions
haven’t improved. I’m over it, but I don’t want to be the one to kill the
stoke. I ease drop on Dais and KK’s conversation about leaving or staying. One
of them makes the O.G. Call to go.
KK and I bob next to each other, waiting
for a closeout to take in. I expect nothing. And of course, when you expect
nothing, that’s when something happens. A small bump forms in front of us. It doesn’t
look like much, and the high tide has created some funky backwash. However, the
backwash is calm when this wave rolls in. It looks barely two feet, but it
doubles-up on the inside. It’s just like that ride that I had to give-up
earlier to that guy I snaked, but this time it’s just me. The section starts
off with a soft but fast drop. I bottom turn, climb the face, and get a
grinding, front-side carve. I redirect the board down the line, pump, but the
wave turns to foam before I can get a second shot. The ride ends with me in the
shallows, so I walk out full of stoke, punctuated by that last, unexpected
ride.
#
I tell KK that I’ll treat him to lunch
since he drove. Dais suggests a Caribbean restaurant by Bay Street in Santa
Monica. We find metered parking and foot it. I cross the street in nothing more
than flip-flops and boardshorts. Damn it feels good to be home.
 |
| This cat is awesome |
The menu looks good. I order the Cha Cha
Chicken. I feel the grease filtering through my pores, making my forehead
shine. I look around us and see families, yuppies out for a morning breakfast,
and other people around our age. We’re a mixed crowd of different ethnicities,
backgrounds, and working classes, right here next to the beach. There’s a laid
back vibe, like no one is pointing the finger or talking under his breath about
the people at the next table. It’s easy to take this sort of thing for granted.
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