Loc:
Brookhurst
Time:0730-1030
Crew:
Khang, Nicky, Dais
Conditions:
3-4 FT+, foggy, peaky, fast
I haven’t seen Nicky in a while, Klaude’s
padawan, but last night, Khang tells me that Nick is game for a dawn patrol. I
say hell yeah, wondering how I’m going to make all of our boards fit.
The next morning, everyone shows up on
time, just after 0600. I throw my board on the roof, and the boys fit inside
with the boards all right.
I haven’t scored down south that much this
year. There have been occasional gambles that have worked out, and on this
morning, I’m hoping that Surfline’s fair-to-good rating is accurate.
As we drive through Long Beach on the 405
South, we leave the sunny South Bay and enter a thick marine layer. It gets
thicker as we get to Huntington, and the lifeguard towers at Brookhurst are
barely visible from the water’s edge.
Conditions wise, it’s what I always fear
during the high tide in Huntington. There is swell, but the water is a little
wonky, and the peaks aren’t breaking clean.
We paddle out, and I keep my doubts to
myself. I just always feel bad taking my friends on a trip that falls behind
expectations. It’s nice to see Nicky in the lineup. He’s on his Zippifish, and
right now it’s looking like he’s the only one with the right equipment, given
the way the waves are breaking. Occasionally, a set breaks that holds shape and
has a little face to it, but most of them close out with the ocean’s morning
sickness.
The marine layer thickens, and the wonky
surf actually calms down. The peaks start to come in cleaner, providing some
quality rides.
As much as I love lefts, I’m not faring
well on them this morning. I’m either out of position, or I just can’t make the
sections. Perhaps the lefts just aren’t as good, but why blame the waves?
However, I do much better on the rights. I
get some peaky waves, and since HB stands up more than MB, my Lost Mini Driver
has me dropping in with a lot of speed. I practice drawing high lines,
borderline floaters, to make the sections on my backhand, setting me up for
water-tossing snaps. I have a hard time connecting more than one turn, but I
get some quality single shots on peaky, four-foot, HB faces, so I’m pretty damn
satisfied.
The HB treadmill is off today, so the
minimum current only takes us a couple towers north after two hours, and it’s
easy to paddle back to where we had started.
Everyone gets waves, but Nicky had to take
a half hour break because his feet got so numb from the cold. A good sign for
the sesh is the number of wipeouts that I have. I eat shit on so many lefts,
purling, but I’m not disappointed. It’s a sign that the conditions are good,
and if anything, I’m the one who’s not able to adjust.
Dais and I look south through the fog and
see a guy hug the face, front side, on a peaky left. He shoves his hand in the
face, stalling, while water throws out over his head. He tries to end his ride
with a three-sixty air. He boosts but doesn’t stick the landing. Either way,
I’m fucking jealous, but more importantly, I’m stoked to see his ride because
it confirms that it is good out here.
Afterwards we head to the pho restaurant by
the freeway for some fifty percent off pho($3.50). How you can you beat that
after a damn near three hour surf session?
The session wasn’t epic, but it was good,
much better than the last handful of times that I’ve surfed Brookhurst. I can’t
help but throw out Fransauce’s name, saying how we used to score Brookhurst together
back in the day.
So I head home, dropping off the boys by
their cars with a feeling of an accomplished mission. It’s nice to see this
black cloud lifted off of me.
 |
| Nick, trying out Khang's new clubs |
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