NEEDS WEST, TUE 09SEPT2014

Loc: Brookhurst

Crew: Randy

Time: 0700-0830

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, offshore, glassy, inconsistent.

     I take my brother to Brookhurst, his old stomping grounds, in hopes to catch some decent surf. I had texted my friend last night who said that it’s been fun, although I’ve been suspect of the conditions because I expect it to be walled.

     We watch the surf from the sand by the walk path, and the surf looks terrible. There’s a lot of chatter on the inside. The waves are coming in walled. I wonder if this was a good gamble or not. I have half the mind to return to Manhattan Beach, but we’ve made the trek out here. Might as well suit up. There are surfers out south by the river jetties. Even though the peaks are long and walled, there appear to be some shoulders, open faces that hold before they close.

     We suit up and paddle out in front of tower 3. It’s a long way to the lineup. At the main RJ peak, guys are pulling in. There’s a section that throws out, giving quick cover ups. Legit in my book. Like me, my bro hates crowds, so we sit further north in a gap between some surfers.

     On my Mini Driver, I feel I have the right board. Quad setup. A long line rolls in. Like I had described earlier, there’s kind of a shoulder at the end. I turn and paddle into it with ease. For some reason, my board feels sluggish, like the tide is already affecting the surf and making the wave soft. I try to top turn, and I almost lose balance. No momentum.

     At least we have it to ourselves. In my rashguard and trunks, I’m nice and warm. The surf looks better out here than it did from shore. The water’s ultra glassy. The east morning sun over the mountains gives the atmosphere a golden glow, its reflection blazing back off the water. If there were rights, you’d be blinded. Other than the shape, everything is perfect.

     More waves come. Still, it’s hard to get a good ride.

     I run into Pete, one of Pat’s friends (Pat’s Klaude’s roommate’s ex boyfriend). He’s surfing with a guy who rips. On these waves, he’s making every section, floaters, whatever it takes to get to the open face. Before the wave closes, at least a small bucket gets thrown out the back. That’s good surfing.

     More surfers come out. Since the shoulders are sprouting in the same spot, there’s too much competition now just to get a wave. I don’t feel like competing. Neither does Randy.

     After an hour and a half, we’re ready to go in. Nothing’s swinging wide towards us. I paddle further north away from everyone and sit next to two guys with fishes. Just then, a bomb swings north. I’m behind the peak. One of those dudes paddles towards me to get onto the shoulder. I paddle just to catch the top of the wave. I get into it, and the other guy backs out. The section builds in front of me. I’m using the quads to the best of my ability, pumping through critical high lines as the lips are curling. No time to turn. It’s all about distance. The wave starts to outrun me, and the whole wave bends. I slide down the face, trying to straighten out. The water underneath me is beginning to drain. I’m worried about digging a rail, but it lets me out. I ride the whitewash all the way in. Not a rippable wave, but a good way to end things given the conditions.

     I peel off my rashguard and wait for Randy. Getting a last wave is a bitch for him. He ends up catching a small one and paddling most of the way back. From there, it’s 50% off pho off of Brookhurst and the 405.

     The shape today wasn’t so good. It wasn’t classic HB. I think I’ve scored more good days at Bolsa than anywhere else in the HB area this whole summer. I haven’t seen classic HB in a while. Same story at San Onofre, too. I’m just looking forward to the winter.