THE BOLSA GAMBLE (double), THU 31OCT2013

Loc: Bolsa Chica

Time: 0715-1015

Conditions: 2-3 FT, sunny, sideshore, glassy, inconsistent, swampy

     I should really dedicate this morning to doing homework, but Surfline is calling today’s forecast Fair to Good, so I have to go. If today is supposed to be better than yesterday’s score then I have to pull my surfer card and throw out my student one.

     I show up at Bolsa just after first light. I have to because my first class today starts at 1100, so if I want a long, solid session then I have to be here early. Yesterday looked fun despite the high tide when I had arrived around 0900, so with a little rise in the swell, the surf should be good.

     The first thing I notice when I step out of my car is the wind. It’s slightly offshore, but it’s coming in at an angle from the north. The water’s choppy and swampy, but it looks like some peaks are trying to push through it. It doesn’t look as good as yesterday, but I have to have faith. In an hour it should be firing. 

     I change and paddle out in my 4/3, feeling glad for the investment in this wetsuit. One longboarder is to my south and another guy is way to my north. Again, I have this spot to myself.

     Despite the tide and the texture on the water, I manage to get some decent rides. The backwash makes the peaks stand up on the outside, and then I have a long, racy line to work with. I have my thruster setup today, so I pump down the line and set myself up for some single shot turns. The only problem is that the waves are so swampy that they are gutless, not pitchy and punchy like yesterday.

     I had expected the surf to get better, but it doesn’t. Even at 0900, the surf is still swampy, more inconsistent even. Proof of this is the lack of surfers in the water. People arrive and then leave. Fuck.

     At 1000 the conditions clear up. The wind turns offshore, the sun comes out at full strength, and the water turns glassy. But still, the waves are inconsistent and slightly walled. Fuckin’ A. I would’ve skipped class if the surf was good, but it isn’t. Surfline was off. I’ve been bamboozled.

     Back at my car, changing, I see a couple guys show up to look at the surf. Before they leave I hear one of them say, “Yeah, yesterday was way better.”

DESPERADO (evening session)

Loc: Palos Verdes

Time: 1700-1800

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 1-2 FT, glassy, inconsistent

     Despite the shitty surf this morning, the conditions are so wonderful that I can’t stand the thought of spending the day indoors. After class, I wait for Bri to come home. When she does, we eat a light lunch, pack our gear, and head to El Porto in hopes that the good conditions will equal good surf.

     The surf is shit. At 1600, the tide is still drained out. The onshore wind is strong, making the surf choppy and walled. I squint and try to make out some decent rides out of the waves. Lines are coming in. There’s potential, but . . . all the surfers out there right now are just desperados, going straight on the closeouts.

     In desperation, I drive to The Cove, hoping that the low tide and lines coming in will transfer into some kind of surf over there. When we get there, there are only three surfers out and with good reasoning too. Fucking flat. Eh . . . there are some little lines out there. I think they might be bigger in the water. “Let’s do it,” I say to Bri.

     “Really?” she says. “There’s nothing out there.”

     It’s funny how glassy PV is despite all the shit surf everywhere else. The water here is so clean that we could be in an entirely different region somewhere, a land without wind. We do the trek down the hill and paddle out. Fuck. The surf looks much smaller in the water. I catch one closeout. Bri gets about three waves, but it’s even hard for her to get them. To end the session, I have to paddle in. It’s that hard to surf on my shortboard.

     So that’s how the Halloween session ends. We go back to El Segundo and have dinner at Mandy’s. I’m surprised at how packed the neighborhood is with trick or treaters. I tell Bri that I’m nervous that we might get visitors and that we don’t have any candy. “Trick or treaters don’t go to the outskirts of neighborhoods,” she says. “Especially not apartments.” And when we get home, our street is a ghost town. No one knocks. Bri is right.