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| Minimal crowd in the early afternoon, still glassy with waves breaking through the high tide. Who says you have to travel far from home for vacation? |
Loc: Churches
Crew: Randy
Time: 0800-1045
Conditions:
1-3 FT, glassy, consistent, empty.
On the way to Huntington Beach, a car pulls
up next to me at a traffic light in Seal Beach. He’s rolling down his window.
It’s still dark out, so I have to look closely to see who it is.
“Matt!” says the driver.
Ahhh. It’s Hideki.
“North of the pier!” he yells before
driving away.
The pier. Randy and I hadn’t planned on
surfing there.
“You can go check him out and say hi,” he
says.
I debate. I see his car make a right at the
pier parking lot, so I make a right as well.
“His hair is long now,” says Randy.
I explain how Hideki surfs consistently,
how the pier is his spot, and that he’s usually at least five deep with his
Filipino crew.
We all step out and shoot the shit. I tell
him we’re going to Brookhurst but that we’ll come back if it’s better here.
#
The Brook. Randy’s wearing his long sleeve
flannel. I’m shaking in my T-Shirt. Slightly overcast with gusty offshore wind,
the ocean looks cold. There’s a bout of morning sickness on the inside. The
peaks are sectiony and running away. Guys surf River Jetties, but the surf is
disorganized.
“What do you think?” I ask Randy. He’s
quiet. I don’t blame him. We’re both thinking the same thing, but none of us
wants to say it. I open up my Surfline App, but my internet is slow. “Let’s go
back in the car.”
The plan is to do AYCE sushi in Oceanside today
after surf. It would be convenient to surf further south. The O-side cams look
a little smaller than here. Trestles looks tiny, but I just can’t help the
thought of that place. I’d love to change things up and show Randy my favorite
spot. When I suggest it, there isn’t a hint of hesitation in his voice.
There’s some distance involved in this
drive, but it’s only 0730. We’ve got time. I expect traffic, but we don’t
encounter any. We’re talking the whole way, and before I know it, I’m parking
right in front of the Churches’ break.
It’s not as small as the forecast had said.
There are two-foot peaks. Then a set rolls in. Scattered peaks everywhere, some
three feet. Only a handful of guys are out.
The only bad thing today is that we don’t
have the NSP. Bri’s surfed this morning, so I got the 6’10 Becker and, of
course, the Zippi.
I can’t help but be stoked paddling out,
here. It’s that same feeling I had as a kid, inviting a friend over to play at
my house for the first time, wanting to show him everything inside my house.
Randy and I have never surfed here together. The sun is high without a cloud in
the sky. The air, the smell, the way the water floats over the cobblestone
reef, I’ve forgotten how much I love this place, and on a Tuesday! There’s
barely anyone here.
When we paddle out, the ocean goes flat. We’re
at the top of Churches. An SUP guy and another longboarder sit at the top of
the wave. Randy tries to go, but SUP guy gets it. He tries again. Longboarder
guy gets it. Suddenly, I feel bad. Will Randy be able to get waves here without
the NSP?
Maybe he’s not aware that the small inside
waves are fun, so I go on a campaign, catching every little wave that comes my
way. Randy gets a few, but the waves are too soft and bog out.
When
the SUP guy leaves, Randy and I sit at the main peak. Just like that, lefts
start coming in. They look small, but upon popping up, the section stretches
out into an open-faced wall that holds shape. I pump down the line fast,
setting myself up for frontside snaps. On the racy waves, I practice my
floaters. Now I’m having a blast. The issue must be the boards.
“Randy, I wanna see how the lefts feel on
the Becker,” I say.
He smirks and smiles. He knows what I’m up
to. We switch. The Becker doesn’t feel as buoyant, but its length still makes
paddling into waves easy. I pump down the line on the racy lefts again, feeling
how the Becker is much snappier with its shortboard design. Meanwhile, Randy’s
going for more waves now, but he seems even less stoked now.
“I’m sliding out,” he says.
“Which board would you rather ride?”
“That one,” he says, motioning towards the
Becker. “I’m just not used to this style of fins.”
So there you have it. That’s me being a
control freak, trying to control my brother’s fun.
Only a few people are left. It’s 1000, and
we have the spot to ourselves. Instead of worrying about Randy, I go to town on
my Zippi. I get two frontside snaps on my left of the day, ending the ride with
a small shuffle up to the nose of the board, and then walking it back. It just felt
so fast and fluid. Highlight material for my mind.
We’re out of the water at 1045. The
campsites behind us are vacant. We change at the tables underneath the hot sun.
Just like yesterday, there’s no wind.
Now the next predicament is deciding on
where to eat for sushi. There’s Hana Sushi in Oceanside that my brother hasn’t
been to in years. It’s out of the way. There’s also Zenko in Mission Viejo. It
would be on the way home. Being that he’ll be leaving tomorrow, I opt to change
things up and head to O-side.
“It’s about twenty miles,” I say.
“You sure?”
It’s a long drive, but again, we’re
bullshitting the whole way. Next thing you know, we’re seated at the sushi bar,
staring at cuts of unagi and hamachi. We eat for two hours.
Back at San Onofre, we hit up Sonic and
order two Sonic Blasts. Mediums, and they’re huge. So we chill out at Churches
again, sitting at a picnic table in the shade, watching the waves breaking
through the high tide. It’s still glassy with only a light breeze. I’m
surprised that my brother finishes his milkshake before I do.
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| Randy, enjoying his first Sonic experience. To think he had wanted to order "the mini"! |
After dropping him off in HB to spend time
with his son, I’m back home by 1730 without encountering much traffic.
I had covered a great deal of distance
today. So if time flies when you’re having fun, I guess you must fly over any
distance when you’re having fun, too.
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