PORTO TO CHURCHES (double), FRI 17JAN2014

Loc: El Porto

Crew: Bri

Time: 0645-0830

Conditions: 1-2 FT, sunny, offshore, glassy, high tide, soft, crowded.

     Since I didn’t surf yesterday, I’m hell bent on surfing today. Bri leaves about five minutes ahead of me. She parks in the Porto lot while I score parking on the 45^th Street hill.

     Looking down at the beach, some small waves roll to shore. The tide is already high, but it looks like there’s a small window before it gets too swampy.

     We paddle out at the same time. Halfway to the lineup, a small, inside two-foot wave begins to peel. I turn and go, and the small wave holds enough shape for me to get two, mooshy turns before bogging out.

     Heading back to the lineup, the same thing happens again.

     Despite the mooshy waves, the lineup begins to fill with surfers. I try for waves, but the tide already has its effect on the water, and I don’t have enough board. Meanwhile, Bri is able to paddle into just about every wave rolling through.

     I’m an idiot for riding a shortboard in these conditions. I can’t say enough how much I need a fish in my quiver. Other people have made the same mistake too. A chick is out here on a shortboard as well, only going straight because she can’t even make the sections.

     When Bri leaves, I tell her to swap boards with me since she’s going to work. Now I got the NSP.

     It’s been at least a year since I had last messed around on this thing. I’m so used to shortboarding, that I misposition my body on the board, lying way too far towards the nose. Finally I find the sweet spot, and it feels so awkward having so much board in front of me. Yet, the sheer size of the NSP (7’10) feels like an ocean liner, like I can draw a straight line and paddle anywhere with speed and stability.

     Now I’m sitting at the top of the wave at 45^th. I catch a left with ease. Gliding down the line, I walk just short of the nose and turn around, trying to surf backwards, but my line’s not high enough, so I purl the nose.

     On the next left, I walk the deck again, keeping a high line, but I can’t get to the nose—I have never gotten a nose ride in my life. I still manage to surf backwards on the end section before the wave closes out.

     Back at the lineup again, I realize that a lot of people are still waiting for waves and haven’t caught shit, so I must surf differently. I’ve chastised longboarders before for not sharing, and catching waves is so easy on this thing that I don’t want to be a hypocritical wave hog.

     I paddle south towards the tanks, away from the crowd, but the waves here are inconsistent because the water’s deeper. Now I have to watch the waves break more consistently at 45^th.

     When a left does come, some guy is in my way on the inside, so I pull out. On a late take off, I try to pump the NSP to get the highline, but there’s so much rail that I can’t move the board with my feet.

     To think I’ve been critiquing Bri on how to surf this thing, and I am doing a terrible job surfing it myself. You can’t surf a longboard like a shortboard.

     On the way back out to the lineup, the chick on the shortboard is scratching for a wave. I’m on her outside, and even though the wave is walled, it looks like she wants to go right. So I try to paddle over to her inside, where the whitewash will be, but the wave is so mooshy that it holds her up when she’s about to drop in. And of course, I am directly in her fucking way!

     She pulls out. I take the wave on the head, refusing to have to turtle dive this thing. I know I fucked her and so does she. I paddle over and say, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

     “It’s okay,” she says with a frustrated grimace.

     I paddle further north where the water’s even deeper, and I stay in Barney Town for another twenty minutes before I leave.

FIRST CAMP TRIP 2014, Fri 17JAN2014

Loc: Churches

Crew: Bri

Time: 1600-1645

Conditions: 1-2 FT+, sunny, offshore, glassy, low tide, empty.

     So there are different reasons why I called a last minute camp trip. One, I’ve been looking for a transitional, seven-foot fun board for Bri, and there’s one on consignment at Trestles Surf Outlet. Two, it looks like there’s gonna be some decent swell on Sunday and Monday. Three, my homeboy Al who I went to Java with last summer, will be down south with family, and he wants to meet up.

     When Bri comes home from work, I meet her with the surprise that I’ve reserved a campsite for the whole holiday weekend. She showers and packs while I do the finishing touches with the gear.

     I call Trestles Surf Outlet to check on the 7’0 Terry Senate fun board. The girl who answers the phone puts me on hold, comes back on and says, “We just sold that board a half hour ago.”

     Disappointment and regret overwhelm me. Motherfucker. We missed it. I should have just driven there yesterday and drove back. FUCK! I should’ve, should’ve, should’ve. That board would have been perfect for Bri. I break the news to her. She’s disappointed too but says, “Don’t let that ruin our weekend, Hun. Let’s just go have fun.”

     It’s 1450, and the freeway is jam packed. I call the office at the campgrounds, and they say that their office closes at 1600. Now I’m expecting the worst. We’re not going to get there in time. The first night reservation will be a waste. We’ll end up sleeping in the fucking car.

     It’s a quarter to four and we’re just reaching Irvine. I call the office, and they tell me that we can still check in late.

     Our campsite isn’t as plush as the ones on the sand with the fire ring and electrical hookups, but we are right in front of Churches. The weather’s still warm despite the early evening and low angle of the sun. The surf is small, but there is some shape. Pretty soon it will be dark. We still need to set up camp, but we have to paddle out, even if it’s just for one wave.

     I put on my short-sleeve full, and . . . the water’s pretty fucking cold. Only a dozen longboarders are scattered across Churches. I’m on my 6’10 Becker board since the surf is tiny. And on this chunky board, I catch some small rights, pumping and drawing a good highline to milk the little, lined-up waves. I get about three waves. When the sun goes down, it’s time for us to set up camp.

     Afterwards, we go out for some Mexican food at La Tiendita and decide to call it a night. It was a long day, surfing, driving, and stressing over a missed purchase and gridlocked traffic on the way over here. Now I can let those other things go and just enjoy this weekend.