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| Photographer unknown, but he's rumored to be a barrel expert. |
Loc: Churches
Crew: Rick
Time: 1230-1400
Conditions:
1-3 FT, sunny, cool, offshore, consistent, mid tide.
I’m supposed to be cooking lunch back at
camp, but none of us are hungry after eating at Roberto’s Diarrhea Tacos. Despite
the funky surf at DMJ, the surf at Churches is looking just as pristine as
yesterday. It’s about mid tide, and the peaks are starting to stand up and peel
nicely, especially without the tide being totally drained. The surf is hitting
that really good window right now.
Nate and Dan paddle out first while Rick
takes his time getting ready. Bri opts to chill on the sand and read her book,
so I grab the Zippi and go looking for the other guys.
Heading towards North Churches, I don’t see
any of them there. The main point has a lot of guys sitting there. It looks
better, but there are too many people. I push it north to Mons Pubis where
there are only two dudes.
I can’t get over how cold the water is. It’s
bone chilling, but my wetsuit jacket is enough to keep me semi warm. At least
the water’s glassy and the sun is out. The glare coming from the sun and off the
water is fucking intense though. It’s a squinty session.
Soon Rick paddles out on his Neckbeard. We
share a couple of waves, but he works his way back towards the top of the wave.
“That
Guy”
One of the guys next to me is on a
longboard, but he’s sitting too far outside. He tries to turn-and-go whenever a
peak rolls in, but he keeps scratching out. Another guy is sitting in a good
spot, but he’s on a shortboard. Again, he’s another scratcher who can’t get
waves.
The Zippi catches everything I paddle for
with ease. While the two guys remain stagnant, I run circles around them the
whole time. Even being picky works for me, passing up what looks like a small
wave and then seeing a bigger one out the back.
Three footers start rolling in a little
more consistently, a hair bigger than yesterday. I can’t say that I’m “ripping”
because I have to ride this fish a certain way. When trying to get backhand
snaps, I’m sluggish. Better to just choose a good line and walk the nose on the
rights. But on my forehand, I’m able to get some wraps and rebounds. I think
the last time Bri and I had taken a day trip here, the waves were a bit
juicier, and I was able to practice some layback snaps. Not today.
I catch waves all the way into ankle deep
water. I lose balance after a wave and accidentally shoot my board into the
air. Everything still seems cool, but I notice some sea grass that’s stuck to
the nose of my board. I pull it out and realize that the grass was stuck in a
nasty crack on the rail. Fuck . . . I had fucked up the board on that wipeout.
Now I have every reason to get out. I’m
usually anal about dings. Gotta get the board out of the water to keep the foam
from getting soaked. I think about tomorrow. There’s still all day Sunday to
surf, and I won’t have my primary weapon that’s made this trip so fun.
I’m done after an hour and a half with the
surf still pumping. I’m that guy who fucked up his board and has to get out
early.
Back at camp, I take a hot shower and start
to cook dinner. Juan shows us some pics that he had taken of the beach.
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| Juan didn't take this pic, but whoever did is known to be good at cooking tuna. |
After dinner, I’m so drained that I can
barely keep my eyes open. There’s so much wood left to burn. Only Daniel, Juan,
and I are sitting around the fire. I tap out, say goodnight, and crawl into my
fart sack next to Bri.
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| Juan did take this one |
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| Some of Rick's friends came down to visit from the South Bay. |
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