New
Swells
Loc: Bolsa
Chica
Crew: Bri
Time:
0730-1000
Conditions:
3-4FT, consistent, light crowd, light onshore.
Pre Blog:
Even though KK, Bri, and I scored at
Trestles on Saturday, my plan to surf this week is to stay closer to home,
meaning dawn patrolling anywhere from Bolsa to Newport. As much as I love
Trestles, some of the last swells haven’t had “classic” shape, so I figure it
would be better to hit some HB sandbars. With new south swells on Monday and
then Wednesday throughout the end of the week, I hope that staying closer to
home pays off. After all, it doesn’t hurt to change it up.
Bolsa:
Instead of taking the Huntington Beach
exits, I prefer to exit the 405 S at Studebaker and take PCH to Huntington. My
fellow surf blogger Pabs (R.I.P.) had recommended this route, saying that he
enjoyed taking the scenic route to the surf.
This way, I can stop at Bolsa first to see
what the surf is doing. If it’s at least three feet with decent shape, I usually
stay there. If not, then it’s southward I go, checking out The Cliffs,
Goldenwest, the pier, and so on.
When Bri and I reach Bolsa for a look, we
see some small scattered peaks. Then the set comes in, four-foot sectiony peaks
everywhere with some shoulders mixed in. Not all of the waves have shape, but
there is definitely activity, definitely worth calling the search to an end and
suiting up.
The last few days have been overcast, but
the sky eastward over PCH doesn’t have a cloud in it, and the sun’s rays uncomfortably
heat my face as if it’s seeking revenge. I cake on extra Vertra.
Bri’s transitioning down to one of my old
big shortboards, a 6’10 Becker.
Since I had so much fun on her 6’8 NSP, I
bring it on the sand while starting my session with my Motorboat Too.
When Bri paddles out on the Becker, I can
tell that she’s not gliding over the water as fast as she usually does on the
NSP. She makes it over a couple of waves, but the current carries her a little
north. I walk down the beach a little before paddling out, which leaves me in
perfect position in front of the lifeguard tower.
With this odd high low-tide thing going on,
it’s not varying much between two and three feet this morning, and I wonder how
it will affect the waves.
But right away, even without the big sets,
consistent three footers roll through. Being picky, I chase down the lefts on
every peak that’s in reach. Some of the waves are sectiony, but I snag a couple
that have decent shape, either practicing some floaters or getting a couple of
turns. On one I connect two turns, but they are snappy and not solid
rail-to-rail carves. The waves are fun, but the faces aren’t really open and
slow enough to pull those off. Instead, it’s mainly a morning of pumping to the
end section for a final maneuver.
I watch Bri, and she actually makes the
transition to the Becker pretty well, catching a good handful of waves. When I
ask her how it feels, she says that it’s looser and faster, but that there’s
still enough volume for her to do whatever she wants on it. “Two of the hardest
things,” she says, “is duckdiving and popping up, since this board is smaller.”
I try to explain how to duckdive to her.
She practices in between sets, struggling to submerge that weight under her. Maybe
her body isn’t built for the upper body strength required to duckdive a big 6’10.
She’ll figure it out eventually. . .
I’m late popping up on one of the smaller
waves, so I grab rail and force my nose down the line. Just then, a little bit
of water throws out over my head. It’s a tube, but I hadn’t expected it, and my
late popup has me eating shit. It was still nice seeing the potential of these
waves. Bolsa is known for being smaller and weaker, but I like this spot
because it’s mellower. I chat a little with the people around me and say good
morning when I can, an old lady body boarding, an old guy longboarding, his
wife. It reminds me of HB’s version of 26th Street Manhattan Beach.
With the lowering tide, the waves begin to
stand up a little more, and then I start purling. Three waves in a row, my
timing is off. I try my best to compensate for my late take offs, but upon
popping up I feel like I’m sinking my board too hard and eating it on the drop.
I’m thrown off so much that I sit at the bottom of the peak and let everyone
sit up top while I sort things out. Am I too heavy? I have gained some weight,
back to about 173. I need my Lost Mini Driver.
Bri’s catching waves well, but she keeps
getting worked on the inside. She keeps saying she can’t duckdive the board.
The onshore wind picks up a little, which
makes the peaks break a little faster. I switch to the 6’8 NSP and try to do a
repeat of Saturday’s hot dogging session, but the waves I catch are closeouts.
Since Bri looks defeated, I offer to swap boards with her.
I haven’t used my Becker board in a while.
It works well at Trestles, but I’m not sure how it will handle this peaky beach
break. Right after switching, a peak forms on the outside. I’m in perfect
position for this four-foot left. The volume creates so much stability that it
slows down time on my pop up. Its full rail sends me down the line, making the
first section and getting a little floater on the second. This board feels
good.
Bri gets out of the water. While I’m solo,
I get another good left, and some fat asshole on a longboard drops in on me. I
yell, “Ho!” and swerve towards the beach. He doesn’t even look back and just
keeps going. What a dick. I try to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he
had been waiting for a while.
When I’m back on the sand, I see him snake
another guy who’s on a fish. Fish guy bottom turns underneath Fatty, pushes
Fatty’s rail out of the way, and surfs past him. Fatty kicks up his longboard,
and Fish Guy has to hold his hand out over his head to keep from getting hit.
What a fucker. Fatty and Fish Guy exchange some words.
What a delicate balance it is. Admit it,
you’d like to punch someone who snakes you in the nose, but then again, we have
to share the ocean. Snaking’s gonna happen. If you’re aggro, it’ll catch up to
you one way or another. I don’t want to be known for being “that guy” in the
lineup, but I did kind of want to see Fatty get his ass kicked.
Back at the wagon, Bri tells me that she
had a frustrating session, getting worked on the Becker and then having poor
positioning with the NSP. I explain that she’s been spoiled surfing Trestles
lately, and that it’s a big change to start surfing beach break again, plus she’s
on a new board.
After changing, we head back out to the
tower to “drink some tea.” The effects start coming on. The overcast is
completely burned off. The sun is hot on our backs and on the sand under our
feet. The morning crowd is gone, leaving only four people out. Yet, sets keep
coming in. The wind has even settled down, too. It’s that ten o’clock hour when
traffic and social life just seems lighter, when you feel you should be with
the masses elsewhere, but instead you’re here, on a beach while everyone else
is at work.
“You wanna paddle back out?” says Bri, on
our way back to the car.
I turn around and look back. The inside is
a bluish green from the sand churning up. Very light triangles of texture form
on the ocean’s surface as an incoming wave bends the water. The water looks
cool. I could trunk it.
“Do you?” I say. We continue walking. I
look down at the sand, listening to the sound of our shoveling footsteps.
“No, we’ll be back here tomorrow.”
Starting the engine, I know Bri is right,
but I still have a hard time leaving this place.
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