The
Jalama Sessions
Loc: Cracks
Crew: Bri,
Gary, and Russ
Time:
0645-0815
Conditions:
2-4 FT, crowded, soft, inconsistent.
We had pumped up the surf to Russ all
yesterday afternoon and evening. Awestruck tales of nonstop rippable peaks. If
I were him, I wouldn’t have believed them. Yesterday was a day where you just
had to be there to understand. It was a day that Gary, Bri, and I would never
forget. I can see it now, us in the future talking about “that day.” Prior to
it, the best Cali session that I had ever had was a huge day at Trestles, but
yesterday was better because there were both lefts and rights, and the crowd
factor was minimal.
This morning, upon waking up, it already
looks like the surf has tapered down a bit. It was expected. As bummed as I
should be, I’m not. Sometimes, trips are about expectations. I think the
minimum expectations for yesterday only quantified the stoke that developed
when the surf exceeded expectations tenfold.
We head towards The Y Spot a little bit
earlier than yesterday, but the Saturday crowd has already doubled. Surfers
stand over the cliffs by the cross, checking the surf. The peaks are still
clean with good shape, the water even glassier than yesterday, but the size is
the issue. This morning’s later high tide isn’t helping much either. Now the
tall tales we had given Russ must be even harder to believe.
I paddle out first, and I get two rights.
Both offer decent entry hacks but mush out to nothing afterwards. With more
people and longer lulls, getting waves is so much harder than yesterday. Still,
I sit wide just south of the Y. Bri has the right board, catching the insiders,
but Russ and Gar are stagnant like everyone else, waiting for the set. The surf
is inconsistent. It’s hard. Frustrating.
Gary paddles up to me and says, “I’m kind
of over it.” We make the comparison. It’s easily a foot smaller than it was
yesterday. “I’m gonna head back to camp and cook breakfast” he says. “Burritos!”
He catches a wave in and starts heading back towards camp. A few waves later,
the rest of us follow suit.
Russ’s Channel Islands friends are heading
over for a board demo, so he has to get ready for that. Bri and I change, head
to the Jalama store, and get some breakfast supplies for Gary.
So the epic conditions are no more. Limited
to one day of firing surf, I’m still stoked for what we had experienced.
Sitting up on the bluffs, looking out at the ocean, Bri shoots me a subtle
smile. She’s happy. I’m happy. The surf is small, but oh well. Life is good.
#
Loc: Cracks
Crew: Bri
& Gary
Time:
1030-1330
Conditions:
3-5 FT, low tide, consistent.
Bri and I head over to the C.I. demo, which
is at the beach in front of the main campgrounds. As much as I’d like to demo a
board, the surf out front sucks. Frothing groms sign out boards, surfing the
inside closeouts. Even some Euro tourists checkout some boards, riding them on
their bellies. I walk to the back of the demo truck and ask the guy if I can
check out the boards.
“I can grab one for you,” he says.
“Uhh, can I just come up there?”
“What are you looking for?”
I really just want to nerd out to them and
see what they have, but I’m stuck. “You guys got the Weirdo Ripper?”
He pulls one out. I hold it. I wish he
would have just let me go up there. I give it back.
After the lack of hospitality, Bri and I
decide to take a walk towards The Y Spot, not expecting much. The main beach
break is howling onshore, the surf miserable. As we make our way in front of
the cliffs, the wind isn’t as strong here. The water looks much calmer. In the
distance, we see consistent waves coming in and a small group of surfers who
have them to themselves.
Mother of God. We need to get out there.
Gary has a Modelo in his hand when we reach
the C.I. Demo site again. “It’s working,” I tell him. “We’ll see you out
there.” Since the surf is smaller than yesterday, I ask Gary if I can sample
his Lost RV.
What had begun as a lackluster day of surf
is now a mad dash to paddle out again. How could the conditions have changed
like this? The switch happened under our radar, and guys have been scoring it
for how long? How long has it been working without us on it?
It’s a surgical strike this time. No
setting up an area of operation (AO), just boards and water.
When we reach the surf, we see that there’s
some texture on the water from the onshore wind, but the shape and quality is
still good. The surf has even picked up in size again from this morning. In the
ten o’clock hour, we’ve seemed to catch the surf at its best with the tide much
lower than it was this morning.
Bri and I paddle out into a pack of groms,
just a fraction of the size of the crowd this morning. There are so many waves.
A left comes my way immediately, four foot plus. The RV has so much volume that
I’m surprised at how early I get into the wave. Sliding down the face, I get
into my stance, but my front foot slides off of the unwaxed nose. I blow it.
Resurfacing, I realize that I didn’t take Gary’s wax job into account. Similar
to my brother, he doesn’t use much wax. My stance being more novice and wider,
I need more wax towards the front of the board. Also, I didn’t think the surf
would be this big.
I surf my next wave more conservatively,
being more mindful on foot placement. It’s another set wave, and the mid tide
makes the face fast and vertical. I still manage a deep bottom turn and a tight
in-the-pocket cutback. Yesterday, I had to work hard for my second and third
turns, but the RV’s volume just pushes me back towards the open face, and I get
carves with ease.
Gary’s on the sand warming up. A minute
later, he paddles out. “I can’t believe how good it is,” he says. And just like
yesterday, the I-can’t-believe-it nods return. On a bomb left, I’m in Gary’s
line paddling back out. He pops up and stalls in the pocket to avoid running me
over. The wave almost looks like it’s going to throw out over him and go
hollow. He waits for me to duckdive before pumping down the line. When I
resurface, I see him finish off his wave on the inside.
Now I’m mad at myself. I don’t need all
this volume or the twenty-one inches of width. Too much board. I should have
stayed loyal to my Mini Driver. “I’m gonna go in and put more wax on my board,”
I say to Bri.
“You need wax?” says a guy sitting on my
right.
“Yeah.”
“Here,” he says. “I’m done with it.” He
hands me a thick chunk, maybe half of a single bar.
I thank him repeatedly, saying how I doubt
anyone would be this cool in the South Bay. I pass on the next couple waves,
applying as much wax as possible, not just on the nose but on the whole board.
I still miss my Mini Driver, but the wax helps.
Gary and I plan out the session, talking
about how we’ll surf as long as we can, but we need to make sure that we’re
back before the Jalama store closes at 1900.
The window of super consistency closes. The
surf is still good, but it slows down a little.
A dark-skinned guy with long hair paddles
out. He doesn’t smile and keeps to himself. I nod and smile, and he forces a
nod back. I don’t know what happens, but a couple of waves later I hear him on
the inside, saying, “Go back to Rincon you fuckin’ souther.”
The grom who he’s directing his tirade to
paddles towards me, away from him. Gary’s right next to the Angry Guy. He looks
at Gary, either waiting for him to join in or stand up for the grom. The grom
paddles past me towards his friend. They chat in lowered voices.
“I didn’t do anything,” says the grom. “I
just went down the line.”
Now the energy in the lineup is kind of
weird, and really, it’s not necessary with this minimum crowd and fairly
consistent surf. There’s enough for everyone. I’m also concerned about Bri,
who’s working her way towards him.
A couple waves later, the long-haired dude
is going off again, cursing at the kelp, saying, “Let go of me you fucking
bitch!”
As Bri passes him and works her way towards
me, she says, “Did you hear that guy?”
“Yeah.”
“He gave me props on earlier on a wave.”
Well, so the angry guy is nice to Bri. I
guess a pretty face still goes a long way in the water.
A couple waves later, Angry Man goes in and
perches on his chair on the sand. We had thought that we could surf until sundown,
but into the second hour, we all start to get tired. When Bri and Gary leave, I
swap out boards with Gary, getting a chance to demo his Channel Islands New
Flyer.
Bri and Gary walk away while I paddle out
for more waves. The groms have left for the day, leaving just a few people in
the water with me. The wind picks up onshore just a little, but the shape is
still good.
I catch waves just as big as I did earlier,
but they feel different on the New Flyer. The board releases much easier on the
bat tail compared to my Mini Driver’s rounded pin. That extra torque that I
usually have to do at the end of my carves to get some release isn’t necessary on
the New Flyer. The dimensions on this board are just as big as mine, so it
feels good to ride a board with the same volume but just a different design.
Eventually, I’ll have to get a good standard shortboard that’s made to my
dimensions.
I only last an hour surfing without my
crew. The onshore wind is officially howling now. There’s chop on the water,
and the waves are running away much faster. It’s even harder to duckdive. My
hamstring cramps. I’m done. Walking away from the surf, a few stragglers head
towards the Y Spot, logging time for their evening sesh. Even though the surf
isn’t as good as it was earlier, it is still rideable and worthy.
I’d like to think of myself as a surfing
machine, but yesterday’s epic session has me more drained than expected. Back
at the campsite, Bri and Gar are chilling out, chatting with the sun still high
and bright in their faces. We have dinner at the Jalama Store again, but this
time Gary grabs us a table where we can watch the river mouth break. Even with
the high tide, right handers are peeling. The wind has switched offshore. The
sun, now lower, casts its golden glow, a classic California sunset. Other
people walk their dogs and hike towards the brush. The scene outside of the
campsite is so remote—hills, cliffs, and wild vegetation. This is what the real
California looks like.
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