ESCAPE FROM THE SOUTH BAY, WED 06NOV2013

Loc: Huntington Beach

Time: 0700-1000

Conditions: 2-3 FT, sunny, glassy, peaky, fun, EMPTY!

     It’s 0626, and I’m standing in front of Tower 20 at Bolsa Chica. I’m here because it seems like a good idea. With the high tide topping out later in the morning, the tide isn’t that swampy. I should have a decent window with decent surf. The surf might be bigger in Manhattan Beach, but I just need to escape the crowds. I need clarity, elbow room, and serenity in the lineup. With the aid of my annual, state-parking pass I might actually get some uncrowded surf, and of course . . . there isn’t anyone in the lineup.

     The conditions are promising, with the temperature already rising from the cool forty-nine degrees when I had made the left turn on Warner. The sun is just making its way over the horizon. The mountains in front of it look like a painting. They’re silhouetted by the sun but the face of the mountain is dark, so incongruent yet everything this morning seems so right.

     Cars swoosh by on PCH, and the sideshore wind from the north has enough east in it to be offshore. But the surf. . . I watch a peak roll in. Two feet at best. It’s rideable, that’s for sure. Only two Asian dudes are in the parking lot suiting up. That’s it. Like Klaude had once said before paddling out at 26^th when I wanted to move the crew to surf Porto instead: “We could have ‘this’ all to ourselves.” And I can . . . I can have this little peak all to myself, for hours, for the whole morning. But something tells me to push it further sorth. Maybe Brookhurst might be working. What if it’s just a hair bigger? That would turn a decent session into an awesome one. But the tide is rising while I stand here, closing my window more and more.

     I jump back in the car and turn the key.

     I drive in the right hand lane on PCH, looking at all the breaks as I drive south. The Cliffs look the same but with more people. I know Hideki and Chris are down there. He had invited me out to surf last night. Sorry, guys, but I need to surf with minimum crowd, especially after the last two days in the South Bay.

     I see a peak just north of the pier, easily a foot bigger than Bolsa. I could park here, but I keep pushing south.

     The Brookhurst parking lot doesn’t give you a view. All you see is sand and the towers, so you never really know what the surf is like. Walking the paved path that turns into a circle at the end of it, I always anticipate what might be out there. Sometimes there’s the thud of pounding waves that you can feel ahead of time or the splash of whitewash breaking the sand line in front of you. This morning, there is neither.

     It’s not until I’m just short of the tower that I see an A-frame peak peeling. My feet make it to the shore just in time to see a three-foot peak out front. Only one guy is one it. A few other surfers perch at Magnolia. To my south, it’s most congested at River Jetties. I’ve seen enough. There’s surf here, and it’s bigger than Bolsa. Score.

Neglected Boards:

     I’m antsy, changing at my car. I just can’t wait to get out there. Who knows when the surf is gonna shut down. The tide’s gonna top out at six-and-a-half feet. I gotta get out there. Cake on the Vertra, choose a board, and wax it.

     Lately, I’ve been feening for the sensation of a tight, arcing turn. I’ve been committed to using my Lost Mini Driver because it’s gonna be my winter board. I’ve been sampling the quad setup on it and surfing every condition possible on it, so when the surf picks up, I’ll surf it as well as I can. But . . . I also wonder if riding that board has been hurting my surfing. Its dimensions are made for big surf and someone at least twenty pounds heavier than I. It’s made catching waves easy, but at the same time all that volume has taken away my snappier turns and quicker responsiveness, especially on my backhand. Right now I just want some solid SNAPS!

     So I break out the Tokoro that I had last used in Java and put on some extra wax. It’s about to be a loqued up reunion. . .

     I got the 4/3 on, but the air’s already much warmer than it was just twenty minutes ago. I have a feeling I’ll end up roasting soon. When I hit the water, I feel that the water is cool but manageable. Definitely still 3/2 weather.

     I paddle out and duckdive, feeling the ease of submerging a smaller and lighter board. Fuckin’ A. I should have been surfing this board all along. I skim across the water’s surface lightly, covering distance with each stroke. This board was made for me.

     In Java, I had made the most use of this board surfing the Harbor, a right-hand beach break that consistently broke at four-to-five feet. I had pulled long sessions in the rain all by myself, connecting two-to-three turns. Late, aggressive, momentous, tail-whipping snaps at the top of the lip.

     When my first wave comes, I’m behind the section by the time I pop up. I catch a right, and I fall behind the section again. I adjust and paddle in more at the shoulder. On my frontside, I pump, bottom turn, and set myself up for a carve. Shifting my weight on the tail, I fall as I push my tail in the face. What the fuck? I’m doing terribly on this thing! I start making excuses. Maybe I just need my Lost board right now, but at the same time, I have to accept that it’s just “me.” I haven’t ridden this board in a while. I just gotta get a decent ride and get warmed up.

     It’s 0800. The surf is still good but I’m not surfing it good. I fall at the arcing ends of my carves, losing balance. A left roars through the inside, barreling at three feet, sucking up the white wash. I start to worry, thinking about the lecture I had given on “necessity” yesterday, how getting at least one good wave is what will guarantee the contentedness and satisfaction that all surfer’s desire in a session, but I still haven’t got one!

     At the end of my next wave, I go back to the car and swap boards.

     “How is it out there?” says the guy who’s changing. He’s parked a big, black truck next to my wagon.

     “It’s good,” I say.

     “Size?” he asks.

     “Hmmm. About two-to-three, but it’s slowing down just a little. Tide yeah?”

     “Oh. Well that’s good for me. I’m a beginner anyway.” He’s heavy, about twenty pounds away from being a snowman in a wetsuit. I tell him I’ll see him out there, and then I pull out my Lost Mini Driver and screw in the quad fins. Since I’m at the car, I eat an apple and drink some water.

One Board:

     I also didn’t want to swap boards earlier because I was scared that the window would close as soon as I left, despite the close parking proximity. It’s 0830, so I know the tide’s coming up, but this is bonus time right now. I accept that the best window of the day is over, that the surf is gonna slow down, and that pretty soon it will be swamp city. I hope that the Mini Driver will improve my performance.

     When I get back to the shore, the surf is not affected by the tide at all. A long peak sprouts up, now textured with just a little bit of south wind, and peels into a long, rippable left. Magnolia is still working. River Jetties still has a crowd. And best of all, there are still only a few heads out.

     I paddle into this left, feeling the difference in buoyancy on my board. Before I’m dropping in I already know that I’m gonna be on it early, and I am. I point my nose at a sharp angle and the quads keep me on the face. I pump and get one, solid turn, a single shot. Even on the next right, I get a decent backhand snap. Not bad for the quads. I’ve been having trouble turning on my backhand with them.

     Then my wave of the day comes. There’s this peaky left. I pop up fast, and I’m flying down the line. Usually I’m so hard-up for a turn that I try to gouge it and put all my weight into it, pushing hard on the tail when it’s over the lip. But on this wave I practice deeper bottom turns, going from top to bottom. I crouch low and let my board shoot me up the face. Instead of muscling the top turn I just concentrate on making sure my board pivots over the lip on the tail. The momentum from the deep, bottom turn gives me the speed and flare without having to muscle into it. I do it again, calculating, being careful not to prematurely fall. Three turns. I get a three-turn wave. I hoot at myself out loud as I paddle back to the lineup. I’ve gotten my one, good wave.

     And the surf barely tapers off or slows down. I stay until 1000. Until I’m out of breath paddling back to the lineup. Until my back and shoulders ache. I think about my brother’s advice, to snack when you’re tired or else you start making stupid mistakes. The tide has topped out and the surf has only slowed down a FRACTION. The conditions are still good, waves are still coming in, but I gotta go. Three hours. Three solid hours of good surf. I’ve had enough.

     So now I wonder if just surfing with this one board has hurt me. Will I ever be able to surf my other shortboards again? Today’s conditions were prime for the Tokoro. I had surfed my other shortboard that’s even smaller on days like this and surfed well. Has the commitment to my Lost Mini Driver limited my surfing to one board? And if so, is that really bad? I love my Mini Driver, and today’s session was a testament of how much I’ve gotten it dialed in. I guess in the end a good session is a good session, no matter what you’re riding. And right now, I’m happy riding the Mini Driver. I think I’ll stick with it for now.