Loc: North
Churches to Middles
Time: 0700-0945
Crew: Bri, Hideki,
Klaude, Khang & Dais
Conditions:
3 FT+, sunny, cold water, offshore, consistent.
I heard Khang’s van pull up in the middle
of the night, but I was already getting some good REM and fell back asleep.
#
I wake up, hearing soft footsteps outside.
I unzip the tent and stand up straight with the speed of a sloth, outstretching
my arms and pointing my finger into a Saturday
Night Fever stretch. I see the fire going on the propane stove. Rick walks
by and says, “Come grab some hard-boiled eggs, Matt.” I scratch my head and walk
towards the bathroom for a piss. I look inside Khang’s van as I pass it. They’re
still knocked out. When I get back, Rick tells me that he and Jimmy are gonna
hit Oceanside. Even though part of me is disappointed that they are leaving to
surf somewhere else, I can’t blame them. Churches is going to be crowded. We
know it. It’s Saturday, and already the first black dots are making their way
out into the dawn surf.
I figure that we don’t have to be out of
the campsite by 1100, we’re here, the surf isn’t going anywhere, so why rush?
The rest of the boys are waking up as Rick
and Jimmy are finalizing their load plan in Rick’s van. We each take our time,
sitting by the smoldering fire, fingering snacks and eggs that are left on the
picnic table. More and more surfers start pouring in from the state parking
lot. It’s time to change.
#
This morning looks smaller than yesterday,
but I keep it to myself. The tide is low, maybe it’s just the tide push, but .
. . I already feel the oncoming signs of THE SKUNK!
“That looks fun,” says Khang, but . . . I
know Khang. I know what’s really underneath that optimistic comment. You see,
Khang has never “scored” Trestles or Huntington, or anywhere that I’ve taken
him to. For some reason Khang is cursed. Every time we have a camp trip or a
staycation day somewhere, the surf has always been weak when he’s joined us,
and I already know that his comment: “That looks fun,” really means: Yeah, dude. No surf again. This sucks.
Churches is barely three feet with
a growing crowd, but at the north end just before Middles, there’s a little
left breaking off of the point. It’s the spot that Klaude had named Mons Pubis,
for the triangular patch on the hill that resembles a vagina.
The waves here are looking a little small
and walled, but there are some with shape. Plus there’s no one here. Just then,
a set comes, swinging wide a little to the north. Even though the set’s a
little walled, it’s a sign of potential.
Klaude turns to me and says, “Matt, is
today going to be one of ‘those’ days?”
I feel bad for the guy who had this spot to
himself. We sit paddle up all around him, which causes him to paddle further
north. On my way out, I’m impatient and catch an inside left. I’m so late that
by the time I’m to my feet, the ride is over. Now it’s more work back to the
outside. It takes a while to get going, but the waves start coming, and the
quality also improves with the tide push as I had hoped.
So .
. . I’m writing this about a week later. What do I remember? On a set wave,
Khang goes left on his backside, catching a wave all the way to shore, throwing
some spray out the back. It’s confirmation. I’m so stoked. Finally, he’s gonna
have a good day.
Dais is a gambler, sitting mostly towards
the inside, sneaking rides for himself.
Replay of the day before. Briana is the
only one outside in position for a set wave. I hear Khang calling her onto it.
I shut my mouth and let her make the decision herself. She half paddles again,
missing it.
“Damn,” says Khang. “That could’ve been the
ride of your life.” Even though it’s an ironic lesson for Bri, I am glad I surf
with guys who push each other.
Bri redeems herself. On a smaller but solid
three footer, she pops up at perfect position on the shoulder, and takes a
beautiful, smooth, glassy right, down the line and into the shallows. It’s her
ride of the trip. Shortly after, she paddles in because her knee is sore.
From there, more waves come. The consistency
picks up. The best I can do is remember some of the rides. Hideki and I party
wave it together. He’s in front of me, but he kicks out early. He later tells
me that he was practicing turning. Khang finally puts his Neckbeard to the test
in ideal conditions. Klaude too on his Kadowaki. For me . . . fuck. I get this
left. I mean, I was kind of deep on it, but I pumped and stayed with it. The
section stood up nice and long. I pumped to cover some distance, check turning
on the highline to set myself up for the closeout section. Before the lip stood
up, I bottom turned, climbed the face, drew an arcing line, and stomped as much
weight on the tail as I could. On the way back, Klaude had acknowledged that he
saw me get some spray.
We’re selling the spot but not to the point
that it’s overwhelming. The surf does turn a little inconsistent at Mons Pubis,
so we head towards Middles. I paddle further to Little Lowers and don’t catch
shit again.
We all get out of the water at
about the same time and walk back together. Churches is now bigger, even with
the high tide. Waves are breaking even further south at the end of Churches
than yesterday. We can’t believe that we scored.
We head to the showers and grab our beers
for the Fransaucian “beer and shower” tradition. Back at the campsite, I find
out that we don’t have to check out until noon, so Klaude whips out the uke
while we put away some beers and snacks. Rick and Jimmy return, and Rick’s not
exaggerating how good the surf was, so I take it that they had a fairly average
session.
“It was actually good,” I tell them. “We
had a little spot to ourselves. It was fun.” I chew away at an apple, not
realizing how rare of a session the boys and I just had together.
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