NSP SURFOUT, THU 01MAY2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Crew: Bri

Time: 1630-1730

Conditions: light onshore, 1-3 FT, inconsistent, hot, sunny

     Bri calls and tells me that the surf is fun. She’s on her way home to grab her longboard. I’m still at work, but I’m out early. All I can think about is getting in the water.

     When I get home and grab my gear too, I meet up with her.

     The weather’s been hot and dry, our apartment a death sauna, but the beach has been such a great escape, and the small waves before us don’t even phase me.

     I use Dais’s 6’8 NSP, and I have so much fun on it. I pop up late, even stalling on the lefts, sticking my hand in the face for better positioning. I never was a good longboarder, but I try to turn, straightening out to shore and then back down the line again. I hop towards the nose, crouching, not quite getting my toes over the nose, but it’s close.

     We exchange waves, but then the wind turns strong onshore, and the waves get inconsistent. I even switch to the 7’10 NSP, and I do terrible on it. I lack mobility. It burns so much energy just to turn that boat around to get in position. I don’t catch one wave on that thing.

     Meanwhile, groms are showing up. On their little shortboards, they make the waves look good. I’m still glad I caught a good hour though, and I’m glad I was on the right board. 

DAILING, WED 30APR2014

Loc: South Rosecrans

Time: 1030-1200

Conditions: offshore, 2-3 FT, inconsistent, hot

     Porto was crowded, and so was Rosecrans. I scored free parking and walked down to the beach. The surf was small, but a lot of people were out. The main peaks at Porto had heads. Even 40^th St., which usually has an empty gap, was a dotted row of surfers leading to the more crowded breaks.

     The tide was coming up, but the inside looked fun. I had to do it. Upon pulling off my first legit layback snap, I had to try it again.

     I went with my short sleeve full suit, and I regretted it right when my toes touched the water. It was freezing. I saw guys barebacking it. I wondered how long they were out.

     But after a while, I got used to it.

     I sat where the crowd wasn’t, so it was inconsistent. However, some random waves came through, initially a long peak but holding shape on the lefts. On my first wave, it started off mooshy. I had to do a frontside cutback to stay where the power was. The wave stood up and got pumpy. I set myself up towards the inside, approaching the wave with much more analyzing than I ever had before. Climbing the closeout section, I went from being heavy-footed on the bottom turn to light-footed as I extended towards the lip. This way, the board felt much easier to manipulate under me. I pushed the board up and away and laid back into the water, recovering once more. The confidence that gave me, to pull it off a second time. On that hot glorious blue day, everyone had to be at the beach. I laughed out loud to myself on the way back out.

     I tried to do it again. This time, the wave on the inside stood up a little bit more. It was punchier, and with that came a more critical attempt. I blew it. Everything felt good until the wave closed. The inside rail of the board hit my hand, and it hurt ever since. So there’s the downside. In trying to dial this maneuver in, I’m opening myself up to awkward wipeouts.

     The afternoon was so gorgeous that I let the current take me all the way south, towards 34^th, 33^rd, and then finally 26^th. At 26^th, the locals were owning the left breaking in front of the tower. That’s the only place that was working.

     I walked out and back towards Rosecrans, but the swell had died just enough to make the waves too mooshy; I didn’t have enough board.

     But on a two-three foot day, I couldn’t complain. I called Larry again for the second time. More. More. 

ON THE SAND PT. III (double), MON 28APR2014

Loc: North Churches

Crew: Bri

Time: 0630-0930

Conditions: offshore, 3-4 FT, consistent, empty

     How could anyone have known that Monday would be the best day for surf?

     Bri and I woke up, not expecting much. The waves looked clean from our campsite but small. “Let’s just do it,” I said. “Let’s go to Mons (our spot).”

     When we showed up, it was empty. Everyone else was sitting at the top of the wave at Churches. Some guys sat wide north, a little close to us but at a comfortable distance away.

     The waves were sectiony and walled where we were, but we dealt with it. It was our last day. Why deal with the crowd? The surf hadn’t been that great anyway. My friends coming over was awesome, but the surf average. And then . . . some lone peaks sprouted up. Way wide, south of Middles, there were rights. We got them all to ourselves. I went backhand, getting solid snaps, all the way towards the inside where everyone else was sitting. And then there were lefts. Finally, I got the lefts I had been craving for the whole trip. This was our spot, where memorable surf sessions happen. Good Trestles’ lefts, they’re so rippable. Not round, not mooshy, but at that perfect height that gives you speed. Good distance to give you a canvas. The cutbacks I had been feening for, the frontside snaps that I had expected to get, they were all happening here.

     Even Bri was getting really good waves, making yesterday’s missed wave an afterthought.

     We sold the spot. Guys came into our area, but we owned it. They shared. One guy even called me into one. He was so nice, I was willing to let him have any wave he wanted.

     By the third hour, it made sense to get out and start packing up the campsite.

FIRST LAYBACK SNAP, MON 28APR2014

Loc: North Middles

Crew: Bri

Time: 1330-1530

Conditions: 2-4 FT, onshore, fast, consistent, empty

     When Trestles is good, the break just south of Lowers will work. Peaks will swing wide off of Lowers. Bri and I eyed this peak and headed straight for it. The wind was onshore, and the current was pulling south. We had to paddle in place a lot just to keep position.

     Despite the chop and the chill from the wind, these long peaks popped up. The left, fast but lined up.

     I had been going over the mechanics of a layback snap in my mind lately, but I needed good conditions to try one on. I had been convincing myself of the similarities between layback snaps and backhand snaps. On my backhand, it feels like a controlled fall, like I’m gouging the wave with all my weight on the tail while leaning forward, recovering into the bottom turn. As much of a surf nerd as I am, I’ve watched so much layback snap footage. Momentum seems key, and with that momentum it looks like the rail needs to be set, and the controlled fall has to be done on one’s ass, outside palm down into the water.

     So as I pumped down the the line, I bottom turned, and could tell that the wave was so racy that a frontside snap or a

Cutback wouldn’t have done the wave justice. Something felt right to just give the layback a try. I climbed the face and simultaneously pushed the board away with my feet and dropped down on my ass and outside arm. I was covered in whitewash, rolling towards the shore. I felt the board under my feet but expected it to slide away from me like it had so many failed attempts before, but the board slid right underneath my legs. I recovered, stood up, and rode out of the wave.

     I couldn’t believe it. No one was watching. Not one of the semi pros hanging out in front of Lowers, but my ride ended right in front of them. It was the most stoked I had felt about surfing in a while, like the first time I pulled off a backhand turn. From there on out, my surfing would never be the same. But could I do it again?

     I tried. On two more waves, I didn’t go with the energy of the surf. I forced the laybacks, losing my board, incomplete. Afterwards, I decided to just “surf.” The lefts were bowling. I probably could’ve pulled in for a slot. My brother had taught me about the way waves bend when I was in Java, how “that’s when you know it’s gonna do ‘it.’”

     Bri got tired fighting the current. She drifted to Mons, so I drifted too, getting some decent rights. The wind got stronger, but we were done. Best day of surfing, a new maneuver. I had called Larry. 

Earned it

ON THE SAND PT. II (Triple Sesh), SUN 27APR2014

Loc: Churches

Crew: Cassady, Briggs, Rick, Gary, Bri

Time: 0630-0830

Conditions: offshore, 3-4 FT+, high tide, inconsistent, crowded

     This was supposed to be the biggest and best day for surf. Rick woke up first, followed by Gary. Both of those Venice Vets already had boiled water and gotten their boards prepped.

     I poured the rest of the crew some hot chocolate.

     The wind was dead. Even the surf in front of the campsite looked rideable. Surfers who had parked at the state lot were dotting the sand, jogging to Churches. We needed to get out there.

     I followed Gary and Rick. Bri was still getting ready, so she was gonna wait for the rest of the guys.

     Because of the high tide, we had already expected the surf to moosh out. The plan was to catch an early window, rest, and then paddle out again.

     When we paddled out, I was shocked to feel how much cooler the water had become. I was 3/2’n it in my holy Hurley wetsuit. Bad idea.

     I caught a couple waves right away, but I found myself cutting back and rebounding into a swampy shoulders. Lame. Rick did all right. He always does. He sat right in the pack, mixing it up with the longboarders.

     Gary and I stayed close, trying to milk the peaks away from everyone. He took a decent right, but as I watched the wave from behind, he churned back up over the lip, and then a longboarder emerged through it. Gary gave me a glance and shook his head, his hand motioning out towards the longboarder next to him. I already knew what he meant.

Missed Wave of the Day:

     Bri was in position for a bomb, a solid bomb. I mean, she was right on the fucking shoulder. Perfect, hand delivered. No . . . God delivered. God was saying, “Here, Bri, here’s a good one for you.”

     Bri gave a couple strokes as the wave approached. She was on a borrowed 6’8 NSP from Dais, a fun board. Everyone had eyes on her. The surfers on her inside didn’t even try to go for it; they had to paddle over because they were too deep.

     I hooted, so did Rick, and so did about five other sniveling jackals who I’ve never seen before. She didn’t increase her stroke or paddle with a purpose. Instead, she let the wave pass her and peel away. She smiled a girlie smile while she let this happen. I couldn’t believe it.

     Rick said, “You gotta go for those.”

     Bri said, “I know, but Matt looked so small. I got scared.”

     I told myself not to be a dick. I struggled to eradicate the influences from my uncle and my brother, struggled not to say the things that they would’ve said to me in a moment like that.

     She asked me if I was mad later. I said no.

     I never saw Briggs or Cassady. They must’ve paddled out somewhere else in the lineup and sat elsewhere.

     Back at the campsite, the mood was glum. The tide had came up and made the surf inconsistent. The crowd was up to. Twenty minutes later, Briggs and Cassady showed up, saying that it was “okay.”

     A little before noon, Cas and Briggs left. They had originally planned to surf another session, but the surf couldn’t keep them. I was still glad they came.

     At noon, Rick said, “I think my sugar’s up. I need to paddle out.” He’s a diabetic.

     Even Gary wasn’t too thrilled about the surf, but he was stoked to be on the sand. He was marinating in his beach chair with his Bluetooth Bose speakers, bumping some 90’s dance music.

     There were lefts at Old Mans, so Rick and I paddled out there. The wind was onshore but light. The lefts were racy, but much cleaner than yesterday.

     Rick sat at the northernmost point, but I worked my way a little towards the top of the first point, and the lefts . . . were . . . fun. The best surf so far since the trip had started.

     The shape at Old Mans is wedgy and racy when there’s size. Immediately upon popping up, I was flying down the line. I pulled off some sloppy but fast cutbacks, still rebounding and getting down the line.

     The surf was consistent and took a bit out of me. Within a half hour, Rick was already gone. I spotted him on the sand, heading back towards the campsite.

     I was bummed that he had left. I caught a wave in too. Back at the campsite, he said that he had just lost all of his energy. He was drained.

     They packed up and left. It was fun having them there.

#

     The evening session was terrible. The wind didn’t die down as much like it had yesterday. We surfed Churches. The wind made the rights so fast that I either purled or couldn’t make it down the line.

     Bri was doing better than I was. She would get worked inside, drift all the way towards the crowd at the inside point, and then she’d paddle all the way back to the top of the wave. She was going for bombs, mostly closeouts, but she had something to prove. Maybe not to me but herself. I was proud.

     For dinner, we made chicken fajitas. My friend Dan brought his girlfriend and her sister . . . and more food. We were stuffed. It hurt to go to bed with all that food in us. The wind was light, the tent hot from our space heater, and our air mattress soft. Luxuries. It’s kind of like camping. 

ON THE SAND PT. I (double), SAT 26APR2014

Loc: San Onofre

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, howling onshore, unorganized, sunny

     I called San Onofre on Thursday to see if there were any campsite cancellations. Lo and behold, there was one. Immediately, I reserved a campsite or Friday afternoon thru Monday morning.

     Magicseaweed.com had the surf forecast at five or six stars for Saturday, so I was pumped. Like 4-7 feet. As soon as I sent out the invite, Gary texted me and said that there would be wind, and then he attached a pic of Surfline’s forecast, which showed that it would be poor to fair.

     When Friday came, I was stoked. I chose three boards to bring. Since Bri was at work, I packed her stuff too. All our camping gear.

     We arrived at about 1600, and it was windy as shit.

     Later that night, in the howling offshore wind, about ten of my friends showed up. Despite the gnarly conditions, we barbecued and drank; it was a lot of fun. By 2300, it started drizzling. At 0100, everyone (save for Orlando and his wife who camped in their van) left because the wind picked up to hurricane strength.

     Lying in my tent was like being inside a jumping castle. The sides of the tent kept slapping against the bed and my head. It was nuclear, like fucking explosions, chaos, the apocalypse. Combined with the roaring surf just feet away. I have no idea how Bri went to sleep, but no bullshit, I was scared. I thought our tent would blow away.

     I finally fell asleep around 0400. I woke to the sound of wind, just a hair weaker. The sun was out and the tent was getting hot. The ocean was ferocious, victory at sea conditions. There was size, but just too scattered and gnarly. Only a few heads were out at Churches, even some kite surfers.

     At noon, Bri and I couldn’t stand being dry anymore. The peaks were scattered at Old Mans, but some of them looked rideable.

     Paddling out was a bitch, and the current took us towards the state beach parking lot. A kite surfer was there too. The waves were consistent with size but unorganized and choppy. Despite the wind, the water was surprisingly warm.

     Bri got some shoulders all the way to shore. I had to kick out of my waves because they closed out. I got a small turn on one lip before it closed, but the session was just for the sake of getting wet. It was horrible.

     A kite surfer was clowning us, surfing close by and flying in the air. It was time to get out.

     Back at the campsite, Orlando said he was over it. He and his wife boned out. Magicseaweed was wrong. They’re usually right. Surfline is usually a little off, but they were spot on. The camp trip was looking like a bad call.

TWIN FIN MOTORBOAT TOO, SAT 26APR2014

Loc: Churches

Crew: Cassady, Briggs

Time: 1800-1930

Conditions: Light onshore, 3-4 FT+, high tide, consistent

Before Cassady drove over, I had warned him that the surf was shit, but he still showed up with one of his Santa Barbara homeboys.

Cassady’s my classmate from school who’s also in the MFA program, and he’s a dedicated surfer.

He whipped out the beers. The wind began to calm down a little. I looked at the MSW report, and it said that the wind was gonna calm around 1800.

“I wanna be out there when it changes,” said Cassady.

Bri was tired, so I let her sleep in the tent; we had a rough night.

Churches looked like shit from the campsite, but when we reached it, the wind died even more. More guys were paddling out, and despite the high tide, there were some decent peaks lining up to shore.

I had swapped my thruster setup to a twin-fin configuration on my Motorboat Too. Seemed like a good idea to practice with the mediocre conditions.

And the conditions . . . turned classic. The low sun was beginning to set, setting the sky aflame into an orange blaze. It reflected off of the water. It was on fire too. The wind died, which made the water glass off even more. It was a moment that made me glad I could share it.

Peaks protruded through the swampy conditions. The current was pulling people south. Briggs got a big one before I got one. Cassady was milking the short lefts. On my first wave, a classic right, I was thrown off by how different the twins felt. I didn’t drop in with speed but was hung up instead, although I didn’t purl. My turns weren’t snappy, and I dragged ass through the turns, sluggish. Yet, when I pumped I still went down the line.

My next wave was a bomb. I should have purled, but the inside fin grabbed. So weird. I still couldn’t figure out how to ride my MB Too with this setup. My snaps weren’t snapping. Cassady hooted me on as I passed by.

My third wave was a deep one. Again, I should’ve ate it, and then I kind of figured out what was happening. Twin fins have speed, lots of it, but the turns are just so much different. Like they’re wider, still holding speed but looser. Not really how I’m used to surfing.

After the sesh, Cas told me I had looked good on those waves, but . . . those twin fins. It’s best to keep them on the fish.

     When we got back to the campsite, two underage chicks were practically throwing their nanas at Cas and Briggs. It’s never happened to me at San Onofre before, just random chicks showing up.

     After they left, Cas said, “When they ask everyone how old you are, you know they’re underage.” They had claimed to be 24.

     At about 2230, Rick and Gary showed up, and everyone hit it off. The wind was offshore and light, a 180 from the previous night. Rick couldn’t stop talking about how good those big swells had been in the South Bay fairly recently, and he kept showing pics to Cas and Briggs. Even Gary chimed in, sharing his experiences with surfing Santa Barbara, where Cas and Briggs are from.

     I watched my surf buddy Cas and my surf mentors talk around the fire. Even though the surf had been mediocre thus far, it was so worth it to see the generation gap being bridged with surfing.

     After Rick and Gary went to bed, Cas and Briggs told me how lucky I was to have those older vets as my friends to “show me the way.”

     But I’ve already known for a long time that I’m lucky.