FRUSTRESSION, FRI 30MAY2014

Loc: Huntington Beach

Crew: Solo

Time: 0715-1015

Conditions: light onshore, 2-3 FT+

     The plan had been to surf local, especially after driving all the way to Trestles and back, but business came up. I’m to report to Los Alamitos this morning, so why not surf HB since I’ll have to be in the area?

     My best friend Manolo is the type of guy who doesn’t stress out when he’s late or when things don’t go as planned. He had told me that he doesn’t “fight against it” and that things usually work out. So with that in mind, I don’t trip on waking up a quarter to six. I take my time, eat some breakfast, and load up the car. Usually I’m beating myself up if I miss the dark hours of a true dawn patrol, but not today. I don’t even trip out on the traffic, exiting Studebaker and working my way down to PCH to cruise the coastline to get to my surf destination.

     Seapoint looks flat, but the pier looks good, like four feet. There’s shape. Guys are going down the line.

     I reach my desolate break, just north of the River Jetties, and find that the tide is still too low. The waves are breaking section on section. I could have slept in but then I would have ended up stuck in traffic.

     I’d rather wait for the window to open up while sitting in the water, so I grab my Lost Mini Driver—the right board—and paddle out.

     I’m over the barrel pressure that I’ve put on myself over the years, especially before my summer trip to Bali in 2011. To think that was three years ago. Still, I can’t get barreled on the regular. And . . . I don’t care. I had written on my previous blogs that I’ve reached a point of comfort in my surfing. I’m happy where I am. I can just exist. I love carves and working on my rail to rail game. Not saying I don’t want to get barreled (who doesn’t?), but I’m not going to kill myself over it. Surfing with pressure is surfing without fun.

     However, I have every intention on “pulling in” this morning. Why? Because the rides are short. The surf is at a playful size, and it’s perfect practice conditions.

     I pull in on every ride to no avail. The waves aren’t really doing it. I get clamped down on on every ride, but I’m not disappointed. I’m making the best of it.

     Down the beach, I see other people try to pump down the line, but the waves shut down, and they either have to bail or straighten out. Might as well just pull in.

     About an hour and a half later the tide comes up, making the waves line up much better. On one wave, I take off right at the peak. I set my rail and draw a line inside the tube. The lip curls over me for a moment, and then everything goes dark. And that’s it. The best barrel attempt I had all morning. It’s a fail, but I think about how many times I had seen my brother pull in and get dry barreled in this very same spot, like I did everything he did up to the point of losing it. Some ingredient I’m missing. Maybe faith? Am I still bailing too early? I imagine setting my rail now. Maybe I need faith in my equipment, that the speed to set myself up properly is the first step, and the next is to believe that my equipment will get me out of there if I hold my line, like I need to believe I’ll make it out of there before I do. Anyway, this is all post-surf speculation, what your mind thinks about afterwards when you’re at home on your laptop on the kitchen counter.

     Today there doesn’t seem to be any perfect waves, but twice I see perfect A-frames, roguers, just sprout up out of nowhere. The first one, I’m out of position, everyone is. All we can do is watch the lip curl, unridden. I’m paddling back out during the second one, a perfect hollow A-frame. I paddle over the shoulder as it blows a saltwater load all over my back.

     My best wave ends up being a single turner, frontside. To end the maneuver, I fancy a layback snap, and . . . I realize that my layback snaps aren’t really legit layback snaps. They’re more like finishing maneuvers on closing sections, more like a layback tail slide that I direly try to ride out of. On this occasion, I don’t pull it off.

     I purl on my last barrel attempt, swallowing a little bit of water in the process. I turn around and look out back. The second wave of the set is coming in. I figure I’ve had enough, point my board to shore, and ride the whitewash in.

     Back at my car, I see that I’ve been out for three hours. Three hours of a somewhat frustrating session. My Return-to-HB sessions haven’t been so great, and that’s to no fault of the wave. Driving away and back on to PCH, I have to remain positive about this frustrating session. Not every surf is going to be a progressive leap or “groundbreaking,” but I have to believe that it’s contributing some way.

     As easy is it was to leave the water when I went in, sitting at home now, I wish I had stayed out a little longer.