PINCHED NERVE, THU 22NOV2012 MOR

Loc: HB

Time: 0800-1040

Crew: Randy

Conditions: 4-6 FT, glassy, cool, overcast, inconsistent, CROWDED.

     I sit here with my fucked up back, writing this. No Thanksgiving for me. Just me and the dog and leftover spaghetti. Here it goes. . . .

#

     I looked forward to this day. Finally, I’d get to show my brother that I’ve improved since Bali. The swell forecast was good for today. I had the hidden plan to get my first legit barrel in front him, or at least try to. But try, try, try—I needed at least a HEROIC attempt of epic proportions. . . .

     I picked him up at 0730. I used Francis’ loaner 4/3 Excel, and Randy used my old 3.5/2.5 O’Neill Psycho.

     Once we got to the sand, we saw how crowded it was. All throughout the line-up, black dots everywhere. River Jetties was insane. Guys were pulling-in getting dry-barreled, in there for a good three seconds. The peaks were big, clean, defined, fast, and scary. To me they were. I haven’t surfed HB this big . . . ever.

     Still, I was stoked. I felt like I was in pretty good shape, except . . . my back felt a little tight from yesterday.

     I wanted to show Randy that my paddle improved. Sure enough, we made it out in the same amount of time. I kept up with him, which was a plus.

     A bomb left came my way. I was deep. I passed it. Fuck it. If I’m gonna “go,” I need good positioning. My first wave was a left. I pulled-in, but it closed out. My second wave was a right. The drop was so steep that it gave me so much momentum. My back hand turns were so fluid and fast that I was surprised I held on. Two turns off the lip, tossing out a little water, hopefully more than the water I heard. I fell on the third turn. I looked at my bro as I paddled back. No acknowledgement, but it was understandable. Turns are cheap. To him they are. And . . . for me too. When I’m with Randy, I know that I need to get barreled to be worth a nod.

     Guys were going for bombs, unbelievable bombs, popping-up and dropping-in with casual ease. I thought about Gerry Lopez. What the fuck makes a guy so casual in critical waves?

     Randy went for a bomb right. I was in perfect view. He’s goofy-foot, so I watched him pop-up, hunch-down, grab rail, and feel the face with his rear hand. The wave didn’t go hollow, but he was setting up, watching, waiting for it too.

     The next left I caught wasn’t even a bomb, but I went for it; it had a shoulder. It was closing out, so I dove into the base of the wave, nice and low for an easy escape. On this non technical, non critical wave I got twisted around in such an awkward fashion that when I resurfaced I was not the same. I felt a sharp pain shoot from the middle of my back to my neck when I reached for me board. I duckdived the next wave. At least my duckdives are good now, but my paddle was labored. I grimaced, hoping I could shake it off, but I had a feeling . . . my session was over.

     I tried to work through it, but it was hard. Paddling and turning my head incited that shooting, sensation into the middle of my back. On the day that I was going to “show and prove,” perhaps put on at least a ballsy performance to go all-out in my brother’s honor . . . I was useless after the fall.

     I looked over and saw Randy rubbing the back of his fingernails together. “Where’d you learn that from?” I asked.

     He laughed. “Your blog!”

     I laugh back. “Yeah,” I said. “I wish you would’ve got to meet Francis. Coolest guy ever.”

     I went for a bomb. A legit bomb. I knew it was legit because the guys on my inside were watching to see if I’d pull out. It was a right, which is bad because I feel uncomfortable practicing barrels on my backhand. The drop was so steep that I couldn’t avoid the nose from going under. I purled, but when I resurfaced I was all right. It was my PADDLE that caused me pain.

     Randy was having a hard time in the crowd. Surfing less crowded spots has thrown him off from this packed, SoCal scene. None-the-less, he still got waves, going for the barrels. Let me rephrase that: Only catching waves with the full intention of pulling-in.

     I caught at least three more rights on non-hollow waves, but still, they were so fast that my turns were snappy. On my very last right, I bottom turned to set up for a hack off the lip, but it started to throw-out. Everything happened so fast. I thought the section was walled. I wiped out. On the sand Randy said, “If you would’ve pig-dogged, you would’ve got barreled.”

     I’m just not “there” yet, but worst of all was how I fucked up my back. Now I’m at home. After ibuprofen and two different muscle relaxers, I still can’t move without pain; I’m stiff as shit.

     So . . . what the fuck did I learn from all this? All this stagnation, sitting around and doing homework, this inactivity has been bad for my body. I also need to stretch after surfing, also have better warm-ups prior to. Third . . . I NEED to start doing Yoga. I might be out from surfing this whole weekend. Sucks. Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving from me and Smokey.

PRE-THANKSGIVING STAYCATION (double sesh), WED 21NOV2012 EVE

Loc: Churches

Time: 1530-1730

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 2-4 FT, glassy, warm, sunny, inconsistent.

     It was a little more crowded that afternoon. After Bri and I ate, she took a nap on the sand, and I did the repair job on my Tokoro. The job ended up a little shoddy, but at least it will keep the water out.

     The sun was getting low. Waves were still coming in, and the lineup was a little crowded. I made Briana wake up at 1500. “We gotta get out there,” I said.

     We paddled out at the same spot, but now, for sure . . . the waves were only breaking at the two peaks. We didn’t want to compete for waves, but after a while I couldn’t take it. I muscled my way in.

     The surf turned inconsistent, but there were bigger waves on the sets. Once the sun went down, people started clearing out, and that’s when Bri and I did the most damage.

     I got some decent bombs, but I probably lost my wave of the day. Out of frustration from the crowd, I pumped a little too hard going backside, and I lost my footing and fell.

     Briana got less rides than the morning, but she did get one, decent down-the-line right. Too bad she had to kick-out early because somebody was on it.

     I got a last wave when it was dark. I couldn’t believe how long this ride was—unbelievable. I got five, backhand hits off the lip.

     Anyway, this entry is short because I’m tired as fuck.

PRE-THANKSGIVING STAYCATION, WED 21NOV2012 MOR

Loc: Churches

Time: 0900-1100

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 2-3 FT, offshore, glassy, warm, sunny, uncrowded, consistent.

     With the advent of the end of the semester, school has been really busy—down to the wire. In the midst of the chaos, I’ve neglected Briana, so I made it a point for us to have a day together.

     The swell’s supposed to be big on Thursday, but San Onofre has the best pre-swell conditions for Wednesday, so we decide to make a staycation out of it.

     Since high-tide is early, we sleep in until about 0645. Traffic is a little thick, and there’s a sedan in the carpool lane. The hood is crushed, and it’s spun around facing oncoming traffic. In Irvine, there’s another accident.

     The South Bay was foggy when we left, and San Onofre is still a little overcast when we show up. Once we reach the beach, we see a solid, three-foot set roll into the south Churches’ peak. We park. Small lines are coming in consistently. The wind’s offshore, and there aren’t that many heads out. It’s been a while since we had a Staycation, and we didn’t expect the surf to be this good. But right now we can’t wait to change and get out there. 

#

     Middles looks like it’s working, but we decide to sit in between the two peaks that are working, right in the center of Churches. At first we suffer, watching the guys to our north catch all the waves. The first twenty minutes only bring us one solid set. We’re getting impatient.

     As the tide lowers, the peaks shift and start breaking where only me and Briana are stationed. From here, our mini buffet starts.

     These rides are small, save for the occasional three-foot, down-the-liner. Of course, Zippy is now my Trestles board, and it’s working. It’s such a good board, shame that it’s water-logged. The waves are so gentle, slow, and mellow that I have time to watch the section build after I pop-up. The low rocker and rail-thickness has me making the section with just a subtle pump. I practice some front-side floaters when the waves close out.

     Bri’s getting a lot of waves too. Her pop-up is still slow, but she’s catching so many waves now that I urge her to split them with me. Before, I’d let her drop in on me, but now I make her go towards my inside so I can get down the line.

     The rights have the best shape, and I’m getting a lot of these too. Easy waves with the Zippy. I pop-up, get down the line, and hit the lip without purling. For the first time, I’m going top to bottom with fluidity on this board. I get one two-turn right, falling on the third attempt.

     The marine layer burns off, and it’s nothing but blue sky everywhere. The wind turns light onshore, but the water’s still calm.

     The other surfers see that me and Briana’s peak is working, so we get invaded. However, with the tide bottomed-out, the surf gets a little inconsistent. People start leaving, and after two hours we’re ready to call the first session too.

#

     We head to La Tiendita for some grub, stoked on life and stoked on surf. 

THE RETURN OF RANDY, SAT 17NOV2012 MOR

Crew: Randy, Klaude, Khang, Dais, Hideki, Chris

Conditions: 3-4 FT, gloomy, cold, crowded, fun.

     My bro flies in from Java Friday afternoon. Or . . . should I say Java to Korea to L.A. I may be missing a destination, but to make a long story short, he was traveling for over a day without much rest.

     The first thing I did was take him to Khang’s surf shop to get some jeans, then we went to happy hour with some of my classmates in LB, and then we had dinner at the best Chinese restaurant in the world: Seafood Town. Back at my place, we had ice cream with brownies and threw on Year Zero. It’s weird watching surf porn with my bro because I usually NERD OUT when I’m watching them, but it’s kind of hard to with Randy because he’s been doing nothing but getting barreled for the past year. 

     Everyone’s paddling out tomorrow morning. I haven’t surfed with Randy in over a year. I’d like to show him that I’ve improved since the last time we surfed Bali, but also . . . I’m really looking forward to him finally surfing with all of my friends.

#

     I’ve had the hardest time waking up early since the temperature-drop and the time-change, but I’m up at exactly 0515—no fuss no muss. I eat some breakfast, fill the hot water jugs, and even put on some surf porn to get psyched up. At 0545 I’m worried that Randy’s gonna be too tired to get up, but then he opens the door and walks out already dressed. He opts to borrow the 5’8 Lost board, the one I bought off of him but have only surfed in crappy conditions three-times. As I pull it out from the corner of my living room, where I have it stashed, he says, “Wow, it feels good to see this board again.” I still can’t believe he can ride something so tiny.

     At 26^th, I pass-up the street parking to take the spot next to KK’s van. I have the JS because I discovered this morning that the tail on the Tokoro is cracked, but when I pull out the JS I see that the tail is missing a chunk of fiberglass on the tail, ten times worse than the Tokoro. As much as I don’t want to get my JS waterlogged, there’s no way I’m driving back home.

     The sand’s so cold that it makes my feet painfully numb. Randy’s borrowing my loud, 3/2, Hurley disco-suit. As usual, I see Klaude first. We paddle out. A couple minutes later, I’m able to introduce them to each other (even though I think they met in person once before without me).

     Randy’s not a fan of the crowds, so he paddles way north, away from the pack, but I’m super-stoked. With Randy’s arrival, the waves come as well. It’s the best I’ve seen Manhattan Beach in a long time. Even though the tide is coming up, waves are coming in pretty consistently at three-to-four feet, and they aren’t all walls. The only problem is the crowd.

     Khang shows up a little later.

     Even though it’s hard to get a wave, I still get a couple to myself without any hassle. The first wave is a little walled and racy. I’m behind the section and can’t quite reach the face, but I get this left . . . man, it’s the best left I’ve had in a while. Since my brother’s here, I am already surfing a little better. For the first time, I’m consciously trying to get deeper, forehand bottom-turns. I get this four-foot left. Another guy on the shoulder backs out. I drop in upright, already eyeing the part of the face that I want to climb. I push my ass out a little which makes my board fade out. From there, I spring-up and climb the face with more front-side speed that I’m used to. I check the spilling lip and drop back down into the wave with momentum. Since I’m behind the section, I do a little check-hit off the lip again. I try to set up for a carve, but the momentum is too much for me, so I lose my balance.

     I didn’t get any snaps, but the speed I got from the bottom turns and reentries were fun—progress.

     Randy’s struggling with the 5’8. I see him scratch out on some or just trim down the line since the rising tide is making the inside mooshy.

     It was raining this morning, so the storm drain is spewing shit water which smells really bad.

     Dais shows up. I introduce him and Randy to each other, as well as Hideki. We have a pretty solid crew in the water.

#

     We surf a little over two hours. My bro says he feels a little “off” surfing in a wetsuit again. This morning he said, “I’m looking forward to actually ‘turning’ today.” I don’t know anyone else who has this problem, stemming from only riding barreling waves.

     KK, Randy, Khang, Hideki, and I head to the Blue Butterfly in El Segundo for some breakfast. I’m stoked to surf with my brother again, but I’m also glad he got to meet the homies too.

SURGICAL STRIKE, MON 12NOV2012 NOON

Loc: North HB

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 1-2 FT, windy, onshore, choppy, sunny, small.

     Long story short, Bri and I were supposed to do nothing but study this Monday, but I had the itch . . . the urge to leave the house to get some surf. It was a beautiful day out, so we launched a surgical strike to HB.

     South HB was shit . . . too small. A couple guys were out, but  . . . with the drained-out tide, it was just terrible. We drove north a little and saw more guys at Golden West, but a lot of them were leaving since the wind picked up. I was pissed off at myself. We should have just stayed local, but there was an extra foot of surf here.

     Bri didn’t think we’d paddle out, but I didn’t drive down there for nothing. I unloaded the Zippy and we headed out towards the choppy, dismal surf, but . . . we had it all to ourselves. Little, wind-swell peaks would pop out of nowhere. Even though they were tiny and short-distanced ride, there were so many of them, and they were fast. After an hour I suggested that we go in, but Briana said she was having fun, so we stretched it out a little longer.

     In the early evening, we found ourselves at California Pizza Kitchen, enjoying a free Veteran’s Day meal. Turned out to be a good surf trip after all.