Location: Bolsa
Chica
Time:
0700-1045
Crew: Bri
& Christina
Conditions:
4 FT+, sunny, light onshore, warm, uncrowded, consistent.
The swell of the summer arrives this
weekend. It’s supposed to be small this morning, but the forerunners of the
swell supposed to be coming in by the PM.
Briana works on the weekends, so she wants
to surf on Friday. I don’t feel like driving all the way to San O. I
contemplate on Sunset, but I think about how crowded that wave usually is.
Christina, who I haven’t seen since her yoga travels across the globe, IMs me
on Facebook and says she’s down to surf tomorrow. I check Surfline. Bolsa Chica’s
only gonna be 2-4 FT. Bolsa it is.
#
Bri and I have a problem waking up early
when we’re together, but I already told CC to be at my house by 0545. I know
her; if she says she’s gonna be there at a certain time, she’s gonna be there.
I roll out of bed at 0515. I keep nudging
Briana to get up, but she falls back asleep. I text CC and tell her to take her
time, but she says she’s already been up since 0430. I go back, shake Briana
awake, and she gets ready really fast.
#
CC and Bri meet for the first time. It’s
dark in my street while I cross load CC’s equipment into the wagon. She tells
us all about her adventures and the excitement of traveling alone without
anyone tying you down. She had her best time in Australia, and she was wiped by
the time she got to Oahu. Then she tells us the story about how she randomly
bumped into Fransauce and how they surfed together. I’m still bummed that
Francis had to move away, but it’s nice to know we have a friend in Oahu to
show us around the surf scene if we fly down and visit.
#
CC’s only surfed HB a couple of times, and
this is Bri’s first. I’m a little concerned that the beach break might be a
little too much for Briana, but at the same time, today’s supposed to be small
anyway.
Since I’m not too familiar with this spot,
I keep an eye out for where other surfers are parking. We pull up to tower
twenty and hit the sand. The wind’s blowing onshore a little, so I expect some
surface chop. When we reach the water, I’m surprised to see uncrowded, peaky,
three foot surf coming in. It’s a good thing and a bad thing. I can surf this,
but I’m not sure if Briana can. Smaller waves break to the north. A couple
longboarders make their way out. It’s not peaky over there, but it’s smaller
and safer.
“What do you think, CC?”
She looks out with an indecisive stare. “I don’t
know. I’m down for whatever.”
I tell them that we should at least check
out the spot to our north.
“Thanks. Is that for me?” says Briana.
“Yeah.”
When we reach the smaller surf break, the
waves are coming in weak. CC and I look at each other. We’re thinking the same
thing. Go where it’s bigger.
#
We change after we repark at tower twenty.
The guys parked next to us keep staring at CC’s ass while she changes into her
wetsuit. Guys driving by do the same, rubber-necking to get a glimpse of her in
her bikini.
I run over to a guy wearing a tank-top
spring sui and ask him about the water temperature. He says, “I just surfed it
last night. It was all right.”
Bri and I decide to go with boardshorts and
rashguards. I smear Vertra on my face, grab Zippy, and head out.
#
A four-foot wave comes in. It’s peaky . . .
it looks good. I’ve never seen this place this good. This is how South HB
breaks, but Bolsa is just a hair less vertical. I try not to be overbearing,
but I give a couple more safety pointers to Briana. Her and CC warm up longer
while I paddle out ahead of them.
A couple old-timer longboarders are at the
peak. Even though these waves are standing up, they know how to catch them on
their longboards. I’m so anxious at the good conditions that I try to catch the
inside waves as I’m paddling out, but every time I do, a big set wave comes in
right after. My overanxiousness has me scratching out. I’m too excited,
impatient; I’m not setting myself up properly.
I paddle into the next set wave right at
the peak. I angle the board down the line as I paddle into it, but the wave’s
so fast and racy that I can’t make the section. I need to get back to the
outside, but the smaller, inside waves are too tempting to pass up. I catch a
washy, three-footer going left, right in front of CC and Bri who are just
making their way out to the lineup.
#
Within a minute, we’re already north of
tower twenty. I tell Bri and CC to try and fight the current, and we work our
way back.
Our spot’s getting a bit more crowded with
longboarders, shortboarders, and medium funboarders. CC’s having a bit of a
hard time getting into them. Same thing with Bri. I give all the advice I can
about HB waves. If they’re not comfortable, hunt for the shoulders; you have to
pop up fast; try to catch them as early as possible.
I get my first big left. Zippy does its
job, shooting me down the wave really fast. This is the most high performance
wave that I’ve caught on Zippy, but my turns still feel sluggish. I bottom turn
but can’t get that full, thruster rotation on the lip.
On the way back out, Bri is paddling for
the last wave of the set, but she’s too far on the inside. She could get away
with this at San Onofre all day, but not here. I already see that the wave’s
gonna hit the sand bar, jack up, and slam right on top of her. I’m yelling, “Don’t
go!” but it’s too late. Once the wave lifts her, her arms go from paddling to
bracing, and her eyes and mouth are wide open, waiting for the curtain to fall.
I hang out on the inside and wait. She resurfaces unscathed.
“I’m having a hard time,” says CC. “I haven’t
caught a wave yet.” On the next wave, I have front row seats to her paddling
into a wave right at the peak and sliding down. The drop is critical. I lose
view as the wave passes, and she resurfaces, laughing on the inside. “Oh my
God, that was one of the steepest drops I’ve ever made!”
I’m in no place to talk shit or criticize. When
my brother had me surfing HB for the first time, I was in the same boat. It was
a nasty reality check that Porto and Trestles didn’t prepare me enough for
fast, pitchy waves. They’ll learn this wave by their own right if they surf
here more.
#
I catch a couple more rides, but the waves
are just asking for performance. I go for another set wave and paddle in right
at the peak. As I’m coming down the face, I try to put some weight on the tail
to lift my nose up, but it’s no use. Zippy’s low rocker doesn’t help on this
critical take off, and I purl. I catch the whitewash inside, go back to the
wagon, and switch boards.
#
Now that I got the JS, I’m ready to tear
some shit up. The tide was on its way up when we first pulled up, but there’s
still some fun, steep drops coming in.
One bad thing about riding a fish is that switching
back to a thruster feels weird. The JS feels light and leafy under my body. It’s
like I’ve never rode this board before, and I’m trying to get used to another
style of riding again.
I get one right where I get one, backhand
snap, but it’s not solid. I’m catching lefts, but they’re not lining up right.
Either I keep getting caught behind the section or they’re closeouts. Even
though I switched boards, the incoming tide is turning more favorable for a
fish, so I go back in and switch to Zippy one more time.
#
Bri and CC are at the lifeguard building to
the north. I can either fight the current and surf by myself or let the current
take me to where my they are.
When I paddle up, CC says, “Briana is
ballsy. She spotted a wave, turned around, positioned herself perfectly, and
stood up on it. It took me a year to do that!”
I pile on more positive encouragement when
Briana paddles up, and on the next peaky wave she hunts for the shoulder and
pops up on it. She’s still not getting long, down-the-line rides, but she’s
progressing fast, and even though Bolsa isn’t as heavy as South HB, I’m really
impressed that she’s doing better on these next-level waves (compared to Old
Mans). From here, I start putting Zippy to work.
I realize that I should have started off
with a thruster and then switched to a fish. The mooshy conditions are suiting
Zippy much better, and I get long lefts all the way to shore. Instead of
focusing on the turns, I just try to have fun, crouching for speed, walking the
nose, posing for a little flamboyance.
My last good wave is a three turn left,
where I pump and do a couple sluggish top turns to end it. I catch a closeout
in after that and pull off my signature Funky Chicken maneuver.
#
I forgot my phone at home, so I got the jazz
station playing. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard this in your car,” says CC, “but
it’s nice.” The girls talk more than I do. I’m quiet. I feel the weight of my
arm from my hand being on the steering wheel. My eyes are bloodshot red from
the saltwater, but my breathing’s steady and relaxed. I coast through the
stop-and-go traffic, working my way back to the South Bay. I have just enough
energy to keep my eyes open. There’s nothing like the feeling of being worn out
from a good surf session.
