Loc: San
Onofre
Crew: Bri
Conditions:
3-4 FT+, howling onshore, unorganized, sunny
I called San Onofre on Thursday to see if
there were any campsite cancellations. Lo and behold, there was one.
Immediately, I reserved a campsite or Friday afternoon thru Monday morning.
Magicseaweed.com had the surf forecast at
five or six stars for Saturday, so I was pumped. Like 4-7 feet. As soon as I
sent out the invite, Gary texted me and said that there would be wind, and then
he attached a pic of Surfline’s forecast, which showed that it would be poor to
fair.
When Friday came, I was stoked. I chose
three boards to bring. Since Bri was at work, I packed her stuff too. All our
camping gear.
We arrived at about 1600, and it was windy
as shit.
Later that night, in the howling offshore
wind, about ten of my friends showed up. Despite the gnarly conditions, we
barbecued and drank; it was a lot of fun. By 2300, it started drizzling. At
0100, everyone (save for Orlando and his wife who camped in their van) left
because the wind picked up to hurricane strength.
Lying in my tent was like being inside a
jumping castle. The sides of the tent kept slapping against the bed and my
head. It was nuclear, like fucking explosions, chaos, the apocalypse. Combined
with the roaring surf just feet away. I have no idea how Bri went to sleep, but
no bullshit, I was scared. I thought our tent would blow away.
I finally fell asleep around 0400. I woke
to the sound of wind, just a hair weaker. The sun was out and the tent was
getting hot. The ocean was ferocious, victory at sea conditions. There was
size, but just too scattered and gnarly. Only a few heads were out at Churches,
even some kite surfers.
At noon, Bri and I couldn’t stand being dry
anymore. The peaks were scattered at Old Mans, but some of them looked
rideable.
Paddling out was a bitch, and the current
took us towards the state beach parking lot. A kite surfer was there too. The
waves were consistent with size but unorganized and choppy. Despite the wind,
the water was surprisingly warm.
Bri got some shoulders all the way to
shore. I had to kick out of my waves because they closed out. I got a small
turn on one lip before it closed, but the session was just for the sake of
getting wet. It was horrible.
A kite surfer was clowning us, surfing
close by and flying in the air. It was time to get out.
Back at the campsite, Orlando said he was
over it. He and his wife boned out. Magicseaweed was wrong. They’re usually
right. Surfline is usually a little off, but they were spot on. The camp trip
was looking like a bad call.
TWIN
FIN MOTORBOAT TOO, SAT 26APR2014
Loc:
Churches
Crew:
Cassady, Briggs
Time:
1800-1930
Conditions:
Light onshore, 3-4 FT+, high tide, consistent
Before
Cassady drove over, I had warned him that the surf was shit, but he still
showed up with one of his Santa Barbara homeboys.
Cassady’s
my classmate from school who’s also in the MFA program, and he’s a dedicated
surfer.
He whipped
out the beers. The wind began to calm down a little. I looked at the MSW
report, and it said that the wind was gonna calm around 1800.
“I wanna be
out there when it changes,” said Cassady.
Bri was
tired, so I let her sleep in the tent; we had a rough night.
Churches
looked like shit from the campsite, but when we reached it, the wind died even
more. More guys were paddling out, and despite the high tide, there were some
decent peaks lining up to shore.
I had
swapped my thruster setup to a twin-fin configuration on my Motorboat Too.
Seemed like a good idea to practice with the mediocre conditions.
And the conditions
. . . turned classic. The low sun was beginning to set, setting the sky aflame
into an orange blaze. It reflected off of the water. It was on fire too. The
wind died, which made the water glass off even more. It was a moment that made
me glad I could share it.
Peaks
protruded through the swampy conditions. The current was pulling people south.
Briggs got a big one before I got one. Cassady was milking the short lefts. On
my first wave, a classic right, I was thrown off by how different the twins felt.
I didn’t drop in with speed but was hung up instead, although I didn’t purl. My
turns weren’t snappy, and I dragged ass through the turns, sluggish. Yet, when
I pumped I still went down the line.
My next
wave was a bomb. I should have purled, but the inside fin grabbed. So weird. I
still couldn’t figure out how to ride my MB Too with this setup. My snaps
weren’t snapping. Cassady hooted me on as I passed by.
My third
wave was a deep one. Again, I should’ve ate it, and then I kind of figured out
what was happening. Twin fins have speed, lots of it, but the turns are just so
much different. Like they’re wider, still holding speed but looser. Not really
how I’m used to surfing.
After the
sesh, Cas told me I had looked good on those waves, but . . . those twin fins.
It’s best to keep them on the fish.
When we got back to the campsite, two
underage chicks were practically throwing their nanas at Cas and Briggs. It’s
never happened to me at San Onofre before, just random chicks showing up.
After they left, Cas said, “When they ask
everyone how old you are, you know they’re underage.” They had claimed to be
24.
At about 2230, Rick and Gary showed up, and
everyone hit it off. The wind was offshore and light, a 180 from the previous
night. Rick couldn’t stop talking about how good those big swells had been in
the South Bay fairly recently, and he kept showing pics to Cas and Briggs. Even
Gary chimed in, sharing his experiences with surfing Santa Barbara, where Cas
and Briggs are from.
I watched my surf buddy Cas and my surf
mentors talk around the fire. Even though the surf had been mediocre thus far,
it was so worth it to see the generation gap being bridged with surfing.
After Rick and Gary went to bed, Cas and
Briggs told me how lucky I was to have those older vets as my friends to “show
me the way.”
But I’ve already known for a long time that
I’m lucky.
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