FISH TRIALS PT. III, THU 27FEB2014

Loc: Palos Verdes

Time: 1500-1730

Conditions: 5-6 FT, low tide, south wind, consistent

     With this morning’s rain, I don’t expect the surf to be any good. The swell’s late. It sure wasn’t around yesterday morning when I had waited at Manhattan Beach for it. But I just got out of class, and there’s no need to check the surf. The wind is up, and I can imagine that El Porto has its first dose of dogshit out of the storm drains by now.

     Shan calls. He asks if I’m going to check PV. I tell him no, unless the swell is starting to show. “Not unless the beach breaks are big and walled.”

     I hang up the phone and get to my car, but before turning the ignition I check the surf report: El Porto, occasional 8 FT.

     I call Shan back. No answer.

     From Long Beach, I catch the 405 N, 110 S, and take PCH to Palos Verdes. At a stoplight in Lomita, I look at some banners on the sidewalk, and the wind doesn’t look too bad.

     And then I round the bend towards the Cove, the moment of truth. A line of cars parked means that the surf is good. If it’s empty, it means it’s blown out.

     There are cars.

     I walk down the trail a little to look at the surf. The tide is so drained that rocks protrude throughout the whole inside. The shape isn’t perfect, but about a half dozen guys sit where it’s breaking, and four-foot shoulders peel unridden.

     I text Shan, letting him know that I’m paddling out. Pulling out my fish, I realize that the heat from the car has melted the wax. The coat on the deck is soft to the touch, so I decide to forego putting on any more on.

     At the base of the hill, an old longboarder behind me says, “Can you help me out?” He’s reaching for his zipper on his back, failing. “I can’t pull out the stuff. I usually cut it out.”

     I help him pull out the guts and the choker. Walking into the water, I am reminded of how I had cut my foot here during the last big swell. The old guy wades past me. “I’m following you,” I say. “I have a feeling you know the secret path.”

     He lies on his board and starts paddling. “You can pass me if you want.”

     We’re side by side, working through the shallows, and then the inside whitewash begins to churn a little harder. Luckily my fish paddles easy. Through the foam, the water is smooth. I’m just so happy to be in it.

     Once we’re near the impact zone, old guy gets knocked off his board. I do pass him, and I have to duckdive quit a bit to make it out. And then I get that queasy feeling in my stomach as I see the incoming set. I’ve said many times that PV is an easy wave, fat and mooshy, kind of like Old Mans. But I can tell that this is a juicy swell that’s on tap. I duckdive a mountain of whitewash, still holding onto my board but get pulled back. There’s a lot of water moving around. The queasy feeling in my stomach is a message from PV: Respect.

     The sun’s angle makes the water bright and blinding, revealing the blemishes on its surface. An Asian dude looks back at me, out towards the horizon, then back at me again. His face is pale, and he’s on a shortboard wearing booties. He wears an anxious grimace on his face. Probably out of his comfort zone.

     I’m a bit winded when I reach the lineup, but a left with a long shoulder pops up, so I turn and go. Time to see how this fish handles in these conditions. It’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for. What a better trial day to test this board.

     Paddling into the wave feels good, and as soon as I pop up, my front foot slips clean off the deck.

     Wax . . . I thought I had enough wax. I don’t. Now here I am. In the water, a long hike downhill from my car. I’m so desperate for wax. I imagine asking the guys in the lineup if any of them brought any out with them, but the only guy I know who brings wax to the lineup is Rick, and Rick’s not here. I thought I would have learned this lesson from Java, from that fateful morning at Choco Point when I had one of the worst sessions ever on a thumping day because my board didn’t have enough wax. My only today choice is to surf conservatively.

     Pale Face is sitting on the inside when the rogue waves roll through. I said that they looked four feet from the cliff, but in the water it’s more like five-to-six feet. After duckdiving, I turn around, and Pale Face is caught on the inside.

     Sitting next to another guy, he takes the next wave. As the wave breaks, his surferless board churns up and out the back. The guy who he was sitting next to shakes his head.

     I’ve never seen PV with this much punch. The drained out tide and powerful swell are making the waves stand up much more than I’ve ever seen before. Instead of the fat, mooshy peaks that this place is known for, the top lip is actually standing up and curling, not barreling, but vertical. The trick is to catch the waves that don’t section out along the whole bay. I need to watch for shoulders.

     On my second wave attempt, I take off on another left. I can’t say that my board has enough volume to get into waves that much easier, but as I’m taking off on a six-foot wave, I can’t believe how stable the board feels from the twenty-one inch width. Aware of my lack of wax, I keep my feet planted, pumping and staying conservative so as to not lose my board.

     The left is racy but still lining up to a shoulder at the end. I make the first couple sections, and then the wave turns into white marble. I get two check turns off the top before jumping over the lip.

     So I get two small turns, and it’s satisfying because it’s a big day. Paddling back out, my only goal is to make it to the lineup without getting worked, and my timing is impeccable, as I make it back unscathed.

     I need to be picky, but I have poor wave choice on my next couple rides. I take closeouts but kick out in time and away from the impact zone.

     Pale Face is gone, and a few more faces show up to rush the surf.

     A random right comes my way, and it’s shouldery. I’m still scared to lose my board, so I do a little backhand snap and then stall over the lip on my second turn.

     On my third wave, a left, I’m pumping down its face. My fish’s thin rails are set in the face so well that it feels like I’m on tracks. The shoulder is impossibly far away, so I can only go down the line and kick out.

     Paddling back, I see the lines in the horizon coming my way. The whitewash is mountainous, hard to punch through. Closer to the lineup, I’m in the worst part of the impact zone. Nevermind that I’m running on fumes—two apples, two tangerines, two cups of coffee. My muscles are burning. Underwater, my board is snatched away from my grip. PV has teeth today. My abdomen even starts cramping.

     Go home, is what the voice inside of me is saying. I’ve already caught some waves. On a day like today, what else is there to prove?

     Sometimes I hear surfers say that they’re not in as good as shape as they were on their last surf trip. I used to scoff upon hearing this, but now I understand. To think that in Java I was doing close to quarter-mile paddle outs (a good wave was well over a minute long)in surf that was easily a couple feet bigger than this. Donny Duckbutter, last May, would whip 2014 Donny Duckbutter’s ass. This is all I can do to motivate myself. I’ve been in worse. Afterall, it’s not like I’m being worked at Porto, Huntington, or Oceanside, where this size on a low tide would have enough power to suck you down and hit bottom. Tired as shit, I make it to the lineup.

     Being picky, I choose a smaller wave with great shape. The shoulder is fat and short, a perfect setup for a cutback. I’ve never been able to pull off frontside cutbacks so easily before. I don’t know what it is about this fish. I never expected to feel so fluid on a swallow tail fish with twin keels, but I rebound back off of the pocket, only stalling for a moment, and then drop back in. The only problem is that the big sets are coming again, and I get worked on the inside once more.

     On my next wave, same thing. I go a little too aggressive on my cutback, wrapping the board around too far behind the shoulder. When I rebound, I know I can plane through the flat sections to get to the shoulder, but it’s too big to do that today. I need to kick out and make it back to the lineup.

     My last wave is a big closeout that allows me to belly ride close to shore.

     Back on top of the hill, at my car, I feel so stoked about my fish purchase. It’s settled. This board is well worth the $140 that I had paid for. But next time I’ll make sure to wax my board. 

FISH TRIALS PT.II, WED 19FEB2014

     

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Crew: Shan, Dais

Time: 1030-1315

Conditions: 2-4 FT, high tide, onshore, empty, consistent

     It’s first light, and I’m sitting in my car, watching the surf. I want to paddle out so bad, but the surf is terrible. The onshore wind is strong, and the peaks are a bit sectiony. A half hour later, the crowds clear out. Empty lineup.

#

     It’s 1000 when I return from a haircut and an oil change. The wind is not as bad, and the high tide has improved the shape. The sun is out with only a few heads, and the surf is consistent.

     I haven’t seen Shan since I cut my toe at PV, and since he has an open schedule, he comes out to get a surf sesh together.

     It takes a little while to get to the outside, as the inside is so consistent. I haven’t had a good paddle workout in a while, so I’m a little winded making my way out.

     Even though some fishes can be corky and difficult to duckdive, this one isn’t much of a problem. Now Ross is out here too, scoring the rights in front of the brick house. I want lefts.

     The waves are walled at around four feet, but if you’re lucky, all the way at the ends of them are makeable shoulders.

     Anxious, I paddle for a left, but I’m too deep, falling behind as the wave closes out. I get another left, only able to pump to keep up with the section, unable to crank off any turns.

     It’s only on one right that I’m able to get two little checks off the lip. So far, this fish feels loose. Like it has the benefit of getting into waves a little easier, but not too easy—I still have to kick and scratch hard. But performance wise, the fish is more responsive than expected, unfortunately leading me to the conclusion that this board doesn’t have the volume nor the flat enough rocker to be the longboard substitute that I’ve been looking for. What I now have in my quiver is a rippable fish.

     Dais shows up, catching the last half hour of the window before the onshores pick up again. Shan leaves, so does Ross, and now Dais and I are the only ones out.

     The surf gets choppy, and corners are hard to come by. The inside waves, which are half the size, have better shape. We trade off on some waves, lucky to get a turn. He shows me his brand new board, Channel Islands’ Average Joe. It’s 5’6 and over twenty-one inches wide with an assload of volume, a short board for small waves. Then it hits me . . . it’s pretty much the board that I’ve been looking for.

     We surf until we’re tired from duckdiving so much and being pounded by the outside sets.

     Back on the shore, the surf is completely blown out. I feel like a fool for having been out there. I still need a good day of surf to test out my fish further.

FISH: 6’0 X 21 1/4 X 2 3/8, MON 17FEB2014

Loc: North Churches to Middle Trestles

Crew: Bri

Time: 1000-1245

Conditions: 2-3 FT, sunny, warm, glassy, consistent, soft

     Call it my compulsiveness, but Bri and I are driving down to Oceanside to check out a fish that’s on sale on Craigslist. I should be doing homework, as I have a story due on Thursday, but here I am, going on a gut feeling.

     The guy is asking for $100 for the board and $60 for the fins. I’m not much of a bargainer, so we’ll see how it goes.

     As far as swell, the South Bay is bigger, but I have to jump on this opportunity right now. I missed out on another purchase a week ago, so timing is important.

     I pull into Del Taco where Jeff, the seller, pulls in seconds afterwards. If there’s such thing as a surfing caveman, it’s him. Wearing glasses and a hat over his leathered and weathered, tanned face, tubble sticks out from cheeks and chin. His hand feels like a glove as I shake it.

     He lowers his tailgate, revealing the board. It’s the fish design that I’ve been looking for, not hybrid shape but classic fish with a swallow tail. The board’s a 6’0, big for a fish, but I’m going bigger because my intention is to obtain a small-wave board for my quiver. Surprisingly, the board looks smaller than 6’0, not the gargantuan stick I was expecting.

     Jeff goes on, telling me about how he surfs other spots down south with limited access, and I no doubt believe him, but as much as I’d like to hear his story, I’m only paying attention to the board.

     A year ago, I probably wouldn’t know what to look for upon inspection. Today, I’m no expert, but a surfer’s common sense is all I need. I feel the lamination over the black-and-white, checkerboard deck. It’s not water logged. I inspect every inch of the board, past repairs, pressure dings. I notice a small chip on the nose where water can get in.

     “I put a little finger of putty on there,” says Jeff.

     It’s not there now, but . . . for a hundred-dollar board, I can’t expect flawlessness. The twin fins are Futures, the K2 keels, made for a classic ride. I’m no fin expert, but I researched them online. These are in excellent condition, anywhere between seventy and eighty bucks brand new.

     “Will you take one forty?” I say.

The Test:

     We stop in Oceanside, but the tide is a bit high, making the surf a little sectiony and gutless, so we backtrack up north and check out Churches.

     The waves are decent but inconsistent on the high tide. A pack of longboarders already rule the main peak, so we wait.

     At about 1000, we paddle out at North Churches, but right now it’s a no man’s land—the peak to the south and a little north are working better. In other words, we’re in the channel. There’s a crowd on both sides on this President’s Day Monday. Not overcrowded but crowded enough for inconsistent surf.

     But these are the first shifters that have probably been here since first light. One by one they begin to leave, opening the gate for Bri and me.

     So my initial waves are rights. What was I expecting on this fish? I really wanted something similar to Rick’s Zippifish—super buoyant, voluminous, paddles into anything. But as I catch the right on my new purchase, I feel like I’m lacking the volume to instantly propel me down the line, but the twenty-one inch width near the nose gives me such a stable platform that I can finally walk up to the front of the board and ride that section of it.

     The waves are soft today, with shape that caters to a longboard, three-feet and lined but holding. I wouldn’t want to be on any of my other boards right now, save for the NSP that Bri is on.

     I have some trouble setting up for a backhand hack, as the board feels a little skatey and loose. I haven’t ridden a twin fin in a while.

     But when I finally get a solid, three-foot left, I’m shocked at how responsive the board is as I pump. I pull off a legit, wrap-around cutback and stall in the pocket upon redirecting myself. Using the wide nose again, I walk down on it to regain entry, dropping into the face of the wave.

     From here, we paddle over towards Middles. With the tide dropping, the surf is getting much more consistent, but the peaks are still favorable for longboards—a little weak but still with potential for long distance.

     And the rest of the session is spent gliding down rights. Instead of forcing the turns, I pop up, walk the board, and choose a highline, staying close to the spill of the wave. I love the feeling of surfing stress free, no expectations, just cruising down the line relaxed. I even put my hands behind my back and sink into my stance. Unlike the Zippi, this fish isn’t propelling me down the line, but it still stays on track, keeping me where I need to be. Riding the waves, I’m high up on the line, watching the endless shoulders form before me, never too far ahead and never behind.

     So we surf for about three hours. Bri agrees that the surf was fun but a little gutless. As much fun as my initial session with this fish was, I really want to test it out in punchier surf. I can’t wait to take it to El Porto.