40th Street, WED 23APR2014

They need to start opening up that lot earlier. 

Loc: El Porto

Time: 0630-0830

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, consistent, glassy, crowded.

     My friend Gary had said that he’d be paddling out at 40^th Street at first light, so I intend to surf Porto. Why not? Especially since my other spot is a high school on surf boards until 0800.

     The gate to the lot hasn’t opened yet, but I luckily score free parking.

     I’m walking down the hill when the gate opens. To my right, I see consistent rights, peeling and reeling all the way to the inside. It’s a spot I like to call The Tanks, since the Chevron tanks are there (they tore down one of them). My instincts tell me to surf there. It’s empty there. I can at least have it to myself for a little while, but then I jog on over to 40^th. My friend said he’d be there.

     I’m on my smaller board, my Motorboat Too, since the tide will be coming up and the surf size has dropped.

     The inside is so consistent that it takes forever for me to make it out. I see guys catch waves, kick out behind me, and still beat me out to the lineup. It’s just one of those bad paddle outs, when it feels like you haven’t moved and you’re just duckdiving wave after wave.

     When I finally get out, a nice right pops up. Even though I’m out of breath, I have to go.

     The waves are consistent, peaky, and beginner friendly. The tide push is making the waves beach-break soft, like there’s still some umph to them but they’re not completely dumpy or round either.

     I catch some rights but never connect more than one turn. On my lefts, I get a couple lame-looking cutbacks and one frontside snap. I am content.

     I look around, still no sight of Gary.

     The current’s pulling south. 40^th Street tower is smaller now. I’m almost in front of Rosecrans. Everywhere I go, there are people sitting and waiting, but at least the energy isn’t that bad. There aren’t any SUP guys here, and at least everyone is minding his own business and not snaking. It’s just as crowded as my other spot but more adult-like. I’m proud of this behavior, especially after the recent squabbles Porto has had as of late.

     Going left, the whole wave stands up. Instead of trying to get a carve off, I instinctually hunker down and keep pumping down the line, and that’s when I see it. I’m on the shoulder, the lip is swirling over me, and I see the opening, just a glimpse of that almond light. And then I eat shit. I don’t even know what happened, but I suspect that this was a case of self sabotage. Did I just get scared and hit the self destruct button?

     I’m upset at myself and want another just like it, but the wave never comes.

     Gary never shows up, but the whole South Bay does. At least everyone was cool though. I can’t remember the last time the surf has been decent for about a week straight. The South Bay is good. I heard HB has been even better. Maybe everyone is getting good surf now?

Later that day

IF IT’S THIS CROWDED . . ., TUE 22APR2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0630-0900

Conditions: 3-4 FT, inconsistent, overcast, crowded, light onshore.

     I surf this spot because it’s mellower and mostly because it’s less crowded than Porto, but all the high school kids also surf here in the morning before school.

     Up on the hill at my car, I feel like I have an advantage being here so early. On my drive over here, even the El Porto lot wasn’t open yet. But as I make my way down to the sand, so do all the high school kids.

     Right on cue, the SUP guys paddle out too. They call each other into waves, one after the other, unsharing. I have to sit there in silence, hearing the SUP guy ask all of his friends: “Did you go out yesterday? Ahhhh, it was INSANE!” over and over again.

     An older local dude is loud in the lineup, hooting on the high school girlies.

     I’m on my Mini Driver again, and I get a two turn right early. It feels good, like I’m proving my worth in the lineup. Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. It’s the feeling of pulling off a nice turn at least, something that shows you know what you’re doing, that you’re not just some clueless beginner in the lineup.

     There are no gaps anywhere. I paddle away to find myself in another crowd. El Porto probably isn’t even this crowded yet because it’s early, so I’m dealing with a double-edged sword. This spot is crowded from first light to 0745 before the kids go to school, but El Porto is super crowded from 0730-as long as there are waves. If I’m dawn patrolling it, I’m not beating any crowds by surfing here.

     My last wave is another two-turn right. In two hours I get two standout rides, one in the beginning and one at the end. On that note, I had to get out. I didn’t see how I could end the session on a better note. If it’s this crowded here, I may as well be at El Porto.

WINTER’S REVENGE, MON 21APR2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0700-0900

Crew: Bri, Klaude

Conditions: 4-5FT+, walled, punchy.

A Kook’s Tale:

     Yeah, so this is me being honest. I was so stoked for the surf forecast on Monday that I had stayed up late Sunday night, going through all my boards. I was nerding out, taking the fins off of my boards, comparing rockers, and deciding which board I’d use the next day. I went with the Lost Mini Driver, my big-wave board, even though I didn’t expect the surf to be “big,” I just wanted something that I could practicing “pulling in” with.

     So I waxed my board, screwed on the quad-fin setup, and prepacked my wagon.

#

     It’s a little dark out, so I can’t really tell what the surf is doing, but then I see a wave closeout. The size looks small because I’m up on a hill, but I’m not alarmed.

     Bri’s has also pulled into the parking lot. She’s gonna get a surf session in before work.

     I grab my board and head down to the sand, meeting up with Bri. There are only a few people out. The surf is about four feet and dumpy because of the tide, but it still looks manageable.

     We paddle out together. I haven’t used this board in a while. It’s thick and has a lot of volume. On my first duckdive, I feel how much harder it is to submerge my board. It’s funny how riding different equipment can really throw you off sometimes.

     Now a set comes, and I get worked trying to get out. I turn around. Bri’s still on the inside taking beatings. I’m panting by the time I make it out. Tired but alive.

     A right rolls in. I’m a little deep. I turn around to paddle for it, but I pull out at the last minute. The wave looked like it was lining up but a little too walled. The next wave looks the same. I turn like I’m going for it, but I pull out again, and that’s when I realize that I’m scared. Yeah, it’s the truth. There it is.

     It’s been a while since I’ve surfed waves with any size. In these moments, I remind myself about my second trip to Indo a year ago: the slab, the reef, the really sharp reef. But no matter where you travel, a big day is a big day, and being out of your comfort zone is all the same. Kind of like how people compare different kinds of cold weather. I was stationed in Germany when I was nineteen and had paid my dues sleeping in the snow, but on a cold SoCal winter, I can freeze just the same.

     Bri finally makes it out. She tries to go for the smaller waves, but it’s just one of those mornings when the small ones only break inside. There is no in between. It’s paddle into the big ones or hang out on the inside for the small ones and get pummeled. Regardless, I praise her for being out here. It’s a sparse lineup. Even the high school groms aren’t hogging it. Not everyone wants this.

     I get a good right early, getting two backhand snaps. It feels good, like some sort of redemption, but backing out of those two waves earlier haunts me.

     I go left, try to cutback, but I have so much speed that my board keeps going forward and slides out from under my feet.

     Bri leaves.

     I try to pig dog. On one right, I grab rail, and find myself at the base of the wave much earlier than expected. My pig dogging isn’t working.

     Klaude arrives. He has a hard time making it out too.

     I catch more waves, but I also pay for them. I get worked again, even ditch my board twice (I’m ashamed to admit that).

     The surf is getting more and more walled. Upset about the potential barrels I had dodged earlier, I start pulling into the lefts, just going for it, but they all closeout. I know they’ll closeout, but sometimes it’s fun just to pull in.

     Klaude leaves. So does most of the other surfers.

     The waves get inconsistent, even lose a little size. I’ve been out for two hours.

     When I get out of the water, I inspect my board to make sure I hadn’t dinged it, and that’s when I see that my right outer fin is missing. The FCS screws are loose. I must’ve forgotten to tighten them, and the fin must’ve fallen out earlier.

     I’m beyond pissed. I hate myself. Motherfucker. I was surfing with a fin missing. What an idiot. I was so stoked last night to get my board ready, and I forgot to screw in a fin?

     The cost of new fins comes to mind. They’re expensive.

     Back at my car, I check my fin bag, and . . . there’s the fin. I never even fucking screwed it in.

     Well, that explains why I slid out on my cutback and why I ended up at the base of the wave so soon when trying to pig dog.

#

     Later on that night, Klaude sends me the following text: You can’t get barreled from the parking lot. I reply, and then he fills me in on the story.

     He and Davey were in the parking lot when X and Y walks up to them. X says to Davey, “Were there really any barrels out there? I didn’t see you catch any?”

     Davey says, “X, all I know is that you can’t get barreled from the parking lot.”

     Klaude laughs out loud. X and Y aren’t feeling too manly anymore.

     So even though I didn’t surf well—and forgot a fin—at least I paddled out. At least Bri paddled out while guys in the parking lot preferred to stay dry and parking lot puss it.

     Even my friend Gary said he didn’t paddle out. He said that Rosecrans was just a big wall, no one out.

     I’m a kook for forgetting my fin, for nerding out all by myself in my garage the night before, prepping my equipment. But am I really a kook? I just feel like I’m the only one who nerds out the way I do when it comes to surf. If that makes me a kook, can you blame me?

     

A NONRARITY, SUN 20APR2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0700-0900

Crew: Bri, Klaude

Conditions: 2-4FT, offshore, consistent, low tide, crowded.

     Imagine . . . Imagine that the surf is good. Good as in good shape. There aren’t consistent A-frames, but say that the rights are lining up nice and shouldery all the way to shore, at least two turns before a closeout maneuver, if you’re good enough (which I’m not). And imagine that you paddle out, get a good wave, and you want another one, but now more and more people are paddling out.

     Imagine a pack of Stand Up Paddleboarders holding down a whole break. One of them sits on the outside, catching one all the way in. His friend takes the next wave, does the same. And then the first SUP guy that had caught the first wave all the way in, paddles all the way back outside and catches another one. Imagine being so frustrated and seeing that even if you paddle away from the SUP guys that you’ll still be in the midst of another crowd, but you do anyway.

     In the midst of the new crowd, the waves are still good, but you have to jockey for position, back off for guys already on it, or pretend that you don’t see the wave approaching to give it away, but little do you know that every other surfer is doing the same thing. Imagine that you’re so desperate to catch that wave that you try and sneak-paddle towards it, but it starts a chain reaction and now everyone is paddling for it.

     Imagine that you look back at that session, trying to remember it, but you can’t. You know you had caught some waves, but all you remember is the crowd. 

A RARITY, SAT 19APR2014

This pic has nothing to do with the surf, but I ate this for dinner that Saturday night at The Dumpling House in El Segundo. REALLY GOOD. You should check that spot out. My cousin and I got full for $22.

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0615-0915

Crew: Gary, Bri

Conditions: 2-3FT+, offshore, consistent, low tide.

     Imagine that El Porto is just a ten minute paddle away and that you can see it in the distance. In the distance, you see a pack of black dots jostling for each wave that rolls by, not leaving any untouched. And in the other direction, there are just as many surfers. Imagine that amidst the different breaks along Manhattan Beach that you score a spot all to yourself with a few of your buddies for three hours.

#

     I was going to meet Klaude at our usual surf spot, but Gary had told me that he’d be surfing with his son Russ just north of there. When Bri and I find parking, it’s only a street away from that lifeguard tower. Walking down to the sand, we already see Gary in the lineup.

     It’s low tide, and the surf is sectiony. However, in the midst of these scattered sections are random shoulders. The sky’s clear, and the water’s glassy.

     The tide’s low enough to walk at least halfway out to the break. Paddling out, the inside isn’t at ass-kicking consistency, but it’s annoying to paddle through.

     I’m on my Motorboat Too, expecting that I’ll need it when the tide comes up. The waves are small at first. I get into a two-footer easily, getting down the line but not really pulling off any major turns. But all that matters is that the surf is consistent.

     I keep an eye out for the crowd. Surfers invade the breaks to the north and south of us. I see surfers on the sand watching us. It reminds me of how my brother had told me that when he’s surfing alone, and someone is watching, he’ll avoid catching good waves, in hopes that the potential invader will leave. Right now in the lineup, I’m praying that a good wave doesn’t come. The surfers end up walking towards Porto.

     Gary’s riding a pill, and he paddles up to me, saying that he had just wiped out pretty bad on the inside, like got pinned down on the sand. A couple waves after that, he’s standing on the inside, stretching and trying to loosen up his back.

     Russ, his son, is killing it on what looks like a fun board. He's pulling off snaps with this huge board, throwing all of his weight into the turns. He gets the longest rides.

     Bri is testing out the 6’8 NSP that Dais had let her borrow. The punchy low-tide surf is making it easy for her to get into the waves.

     I can’t believe how many waves I’m getting. We’ve been out for almost three hours, and only now are there a few surfers invading our space.

     My wave of the day is a single-turn right. I surf a little harder with my friends—friendly competition—and I wind up with a deep bottom turn and get a backhand carve, keeping momentum throughout the whole maneuver with speed, even going into the downturn, but I almost purl. I get my nose out of the water, which slows me down, but I ride out of the wave clean.

     Gary sees it and gives me a thumbs up. “That’s good surfing,” he says.

     By 0900, the surf gets inconsistent, and the tide’s not even that high yet. More people are out now. We leave and see Klaude out surfing. The waves don’t look as good anymore. The onshore wind picks up, making the water ripply.

     And I’m surfed out, so is Bri. Three hours is a solid session, at least from my perspective.

#

     And the following day, the mystic spot that had been empty is now crowded, as if it had always been crowded, never empty. Why crowded now? Rarity indeed.