CLASSIC TRESTLES, WHERE ART THOU?, MON 25MAY2015

Loc: Churches

Crew: Bri

Time: 0700-1000                  

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, low tide, overcast, glassy, walled

Board: Lost Mini Driver, 5’10

     Klaude’s advice would be not to set your expectations too high, but it’s hard not to give my favorite Cali spot “high expectations.” North Churches, the left. For a goofy footer, I can’t tell you how much value a Trestles-quality left has. So when Surfline forecasts 3-4 Occasional 5 Feet for Memorial Day, you can bet that I’m gonna be stoked. Having been skunked before, I know there are two factors I have to be weary of. One, will it actually be smaller than predicted? Two, will there be too much south in the swell that will produce walled shape?

     The drive south is already looking glum. Gray skies and overcast, not an ideal beachbum kind of day. Exiting Basilone road, we see that Middles looks like one long closeout.

     Parking near Churches, we can see that there is definitely swell activity in the water. Size is not an issue today. It’s definitely big enough, but waves are a bit walled and sectiony. Despite the marine layer, at least it’s clean and offshore.

     Bri and I change and follow three other longboarders ahead of us. At the top of Churches, longboarders are sitting on top of one another, stagnant. That’s a bad sign. When we get to the northern tip of Churches, where the lefts are, the other guys in front of us paddle out right there. Just then, a peak rolls in, offering some sectiony but surfable shoulders. “Right there!” I say to Bri.

     So we paddle out and sit wide from the crowd as usual, hoping to sneak some waves under everyone else’s radar. Another weird thing about this morning is how soft it’s breaking. Even though the tide’s low, the waves are coming in soft and breaking late.

     Bri and I scratch around for about fifteen minutes not catching shit. Top of the wave is working, but the peaks stretch and section out. Fuck, I already know . . . skunked big time.

     I’m not one to abandon my favorite spot so easily, but we move the party on over to Middles where it appears to be working a little bit better. We try to sit wide towards the inside of Middles, but nothing breaks by us. It’s just as bad here. People piled on top of each other, ready for anal rapeage.

     There’s nothing like the loathing that rises within me upon being skunked. I hate everything right now. Drove for a fucking hour, and for what? Just about everyone around me is wearing the same scowl on his face. Bri’s the only chick here, and she’s scowling, too.

     I ditch the sitting-wide technique and sit at the top of Middles, and, holy shit, I actually get a few waves. Well, the quality still sucks, still sectiony and racy, but a few stay open long enough for a good handful of single-shot rides.

     On a setwave right, I bust out a closeout hack on a pretty critical section. Bri works the inside, catching a right after two guys before her had scratched out. So now we’re doing okay, but it’s still just “okay.” Man, it’s just not what we drive down here for.

     Bri goes back to the car after two hours. I’m stubborn, so I wait it out a little longer for vain hopes of a miracle, the miracle that shit will just change.

     Even though I’m getting waves, I hate competing, and I’m robbing other people of rides, and I don’t like that feeling either, so I work my way back to north Churches where I’m immediately reminded of why I had ditched this spot earlier. It’s still inconsistent with twice as many people now.

     I paddle through the lineup until I’m at the bottom of Churches, all the way by the military campsites. Wagner, local 45^th Street Kingpin, is actually out here with two groms. Poor guy. He’s scratching for waves and kicking out as soon as he pops up. There’s this bewildered look on his face that says, “I thought that it was supposed to be good today?”

     Welcome to the party.