Loc:
Huntington Beach, Brookhurst
Time:
0700-0845
Conditions:
2-3 FT+, light overcast, glassy, inconsistent
Board:
6’0 Lost Mini Driver, Quad / 6’0 Kainalu
Fish
Finally, there’s a pulse in the forecast.
Rumor has it that there were some HB nugs yesterday evening. While most of the
locals here would rather take a chance on El Porto, I prepack my car the night
before and plan a surgical strike on Huntington.
#
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.
Dawn patrols, my how I’ve missed them. I get an early start, waking up at 0500,
and I’m on the road before 0600. When I reach the Huntington Cliffs at 0630, it’s
still fucking dark out. Maybe I could’ve slept in a little longer.
The sky is overcast . . . slightly. In the
distance, the oil rigs float over the horizon. Waves are rolling in, but they
look soft and swamped out. Still rideable, but I have the urge to push it
further south to see if it’s a little bigger.
Meanwhile, other dawn patrollers have
already suited up. TheY crawl through the guard rails and take these unseen
trails down the cliff. Almost looks like a sheer drop down, but they know. They’re
local.
Brookhurst has signs of life. Other DPs are
doing their surf checks. Haven’t surfed here in a while. Clear streaks of
orange tear through the gray sky. River Jetties is working, already a crowd
there. Surprisingly, the surf here is walled and racy with minimum opportunity
for shoulders. Still though, it’s doable.
I change and paddle out. The water’s
freezing. Even my 4/3 isn’t doing much to keep me warm. Again, it’s been a
while.
I had slapped on the Jeremy Flores fins
that Klaude got me for my birthday (thanks, buddy). I’m riding them as a quad
setup with small Rusty trail fins.
My first wave attempt is a wall. I know it
is. I tell myself to pull out but my arms keep paddling and my feet keep
kicking, so I drop down and pig dog for shit glory. For a perfect little beach
tube, it would have been a good technique, but I instead get chomped down in an
awkward wipeout.
Next wave is a lefthand closeout barrel,
but let’s call it quality because I set myself up pretty well and get a little
green-room vantage.
Afterwards, my next couple rides are a
little awkward. I blow a topturn on a left after setting myself up with some
good pumps. Too much weight too forward? I don’t know, but I did one of those
turns where my body torqued but the board didn’t follow. On another turn, my
fins have so much grip that I don’t hook out of it until I’m damn near at the
base of the wave, but I still appreciate the sensation you get coming out of a
full wrap. My round pintail might be gripping too much as well. Squash would do
the trick. Might have been better off with a thruster setup as well.
The sun burns off the marine layer, and the
conditions turn perfect. No wind, glassy, and potential for peaky waves, but
the tide creeps in. By 0800, the surf is already turning inconsistent and
swampy. Slowly, the lineup shifts closer to shore. I even swap boards and whip
out the Kainalu twin-fin fish, and it’s still hard to get waves.
Changing back at my car, I’m still glad
about having made the decision to drive here. There was only a fraction of a
crowd, I had a peak to myself, and the waves were decent, at least for a solid
one-hour window.
I drive home on the 405 North, hitting
patches of traffic, I don’t mind the constant stop-and-go. It was my first dawn
patrol of the year, first HB recon, and first drive of the year cruising and
listening to music as I reflect on my morning waves.
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