I REMEMBER “SHIT”, SAT 15NOV2014

Loc: Bolsa Chica

Time: 0900-0930

Conditions: 2-4 FT, no shape.

     With me leaving to Japan in eight days, Bri and I plan to surf Orange County together. For one, she has a hair appointment in the afternoon, so I figure we could get our surf on, since it’s supposed to be good, then we can eat afterwards, and then we can go to her appointment while I take a boyfriend nap in the car.

     It’s a no fuss no muss kind of morning, so I don’t even trip on the text messages that I’m receiving. Dave T. sends a pic of Manhattan Beach of what looks like an overhead closeout barrel that’s barely makeable. And then there’s Manny’s text of another barrel at Zuma. Bottom line is, South Bay is firing. There’s swell.

     But this morning’s more about quality time, so we get up, eat breakfast, lethargically load up the wagon, and then head south on the 405.

     First we pull into Bolsa Chica. It’s overcast but offshore and glassy. Plenty of surf signs this morning, as the lots are littered with cars. Surfers are walking to and from the beach with boards in hand, and more people are lining up to enter the state beach.

     We park and take a look at our usual Bolsa Chica break. It’s consistent. There’s definitely activity in the water. Four-foot lines are rolling in all the way from the outside, but fuck . . . the sandbars are still pretty bad here. The quality isn’t there. The shape, the waves just aren’t peeling with open faces to crank some turns on. Maybe on a longboard, you can at least get some distance, but it’s not what we came here for.

     So we make the drive further south. The jetty at the end of Bolsa is packed. At Seapoint, we can see the HB Cliffs. The shape there is a little better but still not at its potential.

     We make it to Brookhurst, and the wind here is onshore. The shape is better, but it’s smaller and choppy. Fuckin’ A. After taking a couple days last week and getting skunked on Friday, this is a hard pill to swallow. Do we surf in choppy onshore shoulders or bigger offshore waves with shitty shape?

     Stubborn as hell, I drive us back to Bolsa. First I stop at the cliffs, but I remember that I didn’t pack water jugs this morning because I didn’t think we’d need them.

     The crowd at Bolsa Chica has thinned out. There’s barely a fraction of the amount of people that we had seen here about thirty minutes ago.

     Pulling out my Lost Mini Driver, I notice two rail dings that I never saw before. Fuck me. Bad luck with dings this year. Motorboat Too it is.

     And there’s nothing worse than sitting in the lineup knowing that the surf will not be improving. There is no window to wait for in hopes that it will get better. The waves don’t break until the inside. Popping up, the waves race away and closeout. It’s choppy. A few other mules are close by, waiting for the wave that never comes. It’s a thirty minute session. All that driving. The skunk. Once it gets a hold of you, there’s no escape.

     So of course, I was moody the rest of the day. Poor Briana. I love her. It wasn’t her fault. You don’t want to see me when I haven’t gotten a good session in a while. Despite me being a pouty bitch, the rest of the day was cool. Bri spotted for pho afterwards, and her hair stylist took her appointment early.

     Now that I’m writing this in Japan, I wish I would have appreciated her more that day.