DESPITE THE FORECAST, FRI 19OCT2012 MOR

Loc: Huntington

Crew: Bri

Time: 0845-1030

Conditions: 3 FT, sunny, warm, empty, onshore, walled with some random peaks.

     Klaude texted me last night, saying that he got the day off and would be surfing local. I lay in bed, switching the forecasts between El Porto and Southside Huntington Pier. I even go on magicseaweed.com to compare the wind forecast. HB will have more wind but the South Bay will be smaller. What to do?

#

     Briana has work today, so a Staycation Friday is out of the question. Klaude calls. He says he’s at Porto, but it doesn’t look too good so he’s on his way to 26^th. I tell him that I’m debating on Huntington or local.

     “Surf local” he says. “Save the drive.”

     I contemplate. . . . I never get to surf with KK during the week. Sometimes Manhattan Beach is good, despite the reports.

#

     Bri and I load everything up. I keep the NSP longboard inside the wagon because I don’t feel like messing with the surf straps; we ride taxi-cab-confessions style. I spot Klaude’s van at the metered lots and park next to him. Bri and I step out. There’s a lull. Most of the surfers are sitting on the inside. The onshore winds from the cool weather and low-pressure system make for crumbly, textured, and choppy conditions. I see a couple guys catch some short rides. The shape is a little walled with some corners at the end. I’ve waited too long for this day, this morning, this session.

     “I’ll be back,” I tell Briana. “I’m gonna leave KK a message.”

     “You gonna draw a penis on his van?”

     I stop in my tracks and turn around. “You know, I wasn’t even thinking about that. Thanks!”

     As an ode to Fransauce, I lift Klaude’s wipers and draw a dick on his rear window. Bri and I head to Bolsa.

#

     This drive seems long, but at least the traffic’s still light. There are signs of life with surfers in the lot, rinsing off and leaving. We park at tower twenty and go out for a gander. The break in front of the tower isn’t doing much; it’s small. However, it does look better than the South Bay; there’s shape. To our north there is a large crowd of longboarders, even though the surf is small. Bolsa Chica to our south has just as many people. “Let’s go to Huntington,” I say. “It should be a little bit bigger.”

     Walking back to the car, Bri says, “I’m glad you think that I can handle harder conditions than this.”

#

     Two guys are leaving the lot when Bri and I pull up, but some surfers are making their way out towards the river jetties on the sand. It’s already a late morning (surf wise), and we are clearly making the window for the second shift. We walk out to the break, and it’s empty. Three guys sit to the north while the rest of the surfers are at the river mouth. The tide’s high, and the waves are a little walled with fast sections towards the end of them. Fuck it. We’re here. I’m not driving back to Bolsa. It’s time to live with our decision.

#

     Even though the air is warm, I throw on my wetsuit. I have the option of using the Zippy of the JS. Given that the tide is rising and the conditions aren’t so great because of the onshores, I pull out the Zippy. I want “guaranteed” rides.

     I pulled a muscle in my upper back after Monday’s session. It’s what I get for not stretching and taking care of my body, probably from my inactivity of having to prioritize studying so much. So as soon as we reach the sand, I take a little more time to warm up. What’s the rush? No one’s out, the waves aren’t that great, the tide’s already coming up, so . . . it is what it is.

     Bri’s never paddled out at Huntington before. I tell her that today’s a small day, but that the waves here still jack up a little fast. I tell her to go for the shoulders if she has to and to try to catch the waves early.

     The paddle out is mistimed, and a set comes in. In the impact zone, I have to duckdive two good-looking waves. Bri paddles up. “Hey,” I say, “There are actually some decent waves here. I’m pretty stoked. I think it’s gonna be fun!”

     The next set is walled, but the in-between waves are peaky and have shoulders on both ends. The onshore wind calms down a little, putting texture on the surface but not taking away from the shape at all. The peak that I surfed on Monday looks good; I have the perfect vantage point to see the peeling, left-hand shoulder. I go left on my first wave. It jacks up to a solid three-feet once it breaks. The Zippy’s so easy. I’ve never surfed it here, only at Bolsa. I’m immediately propelled down the line, and the shoulder is still building, holding. I bottom turn and pull off a sluggish check off the top. I get a couple more pumps before the wave closes out.

     Paddling back to the lineup, I wonder if I’ve made the right choice or not. The waves are a better than what they looked from shore, and I’m sure that my JS would work in these conditions.

     I’m picky. No need to go for the walls. I let them pass. “Go for the ones with the shoulders,” I tell Bri. I catch another left. To reduce the drag, I try to lay back into my turns. I almost fall, but for the first time, my frontside turn on Zippy is a little snappier because of this. It’s not a legit “lay back” snap, but I did do an aggressive, backwards shift with my weight to pull it off.

     Heading back, I see Bri in the perfect spot for a left. “Go!” I yell. She doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t hear me. When I paddle up to her, I want to say that she missed a good one, or I want to question her and ask what happened. But I don’t. I already learned this lesson. She has to figure this out on her own. When I reach her, a solid three-foot peak is approaching her. “Go, go, go!” I say.

     She turns and starts paddling. It’s about to break, but she pulls back. She sees me looking at her.

     “What happened?” I ask. She doesn’t respond. “Fear?”

     “Yeah.”

     “That’s okay.”

     The next one comes, but I don’t call her on it. She turns and paddles. The wave’s only two-feet, but the shape is nice; it’s a right. As soon as the wave has her, she says, “Yes!” and pops up. I watch her from behind. She’s going right, smiling.

#

     The session turns into a wave buffet. The wind turns back on a bit, but the shape is still manageable. My rights aren’t as good. Since HB’s waves are fast, my balance is tested going backhand on the thick Zippy. I barely stick the landing after hitting the lip, usually purling on the down turn. You’d think with the rising tide that things would slow down, but some solid walls start coming in on sets that seem to last forever. I’m even struggling to make it out of the impact zone. Bri’s having a harder time; she’s paying her dues. Even on a small day, HB is much harder than Old Mans, and she’s learning it firsthand.

     The current starts to pick up as well, and we drift north to the next tower. Bri’s a bit apprehensive on paddling-into the waves. I see her pass some up, angle her board too hard when she’s not deep enough, or position herself too deep where the wave is cresting. She hasn’t surfed in weeks, and I can see the frustration on her face. I want to tell her what to do, but again I keep a lid on it. It’s her experience. She just needs more time.

#

     The buffet doesn’t end for me, but I start to get tired. My timing is off on a couple drop-ins. I feel like I’m in a good place to go deep, but the wave breaks right on me. None-the-less, there are still choice rides. Even some walls have makeable shoulders, fast and lined up. There are still peaks in between the walled sets. My expectations are exceeded.  

#

     We’re walking back to the car when Bri says, “I couldn’t read the waves. I think I’m in position, but then they break. They look small but they get so big at the last second. I was scared.”

     “Yeah, it took me a while to get this spot down too.” I tell her that when I take my friends here for the first time, their timing is off too. I tell her about when I first started surfing here with my bro; I would always go too late and eat shit.

     We debate on what to eat. She wants Bob’s Hawaiian, but I recently went there for Sebastian’s birthday. Seafood Town is mentioned, but It’s a little too early for Chinese. “I want waffles,” I say. “And chicken!”

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