Loc:
San Clemente / San Onofre, Churches
Time:
0900-1100
Conditions:
6 FT+, onshore, walled
Board:
5’10 Mini Driver, Quad Setup
I had been closely watching the surf
forecast for a while, waiting for this swell. I had to work all weekend, but
today I had preset plans to go to Churches. On the late train, I arrive a
little before 0900. Plenty of swell to go around was my mode of thinking. I
don’t need to be early.
The overnight surf must have pushed up over
the shoreline and made its way to the road because there’s seaweed everywhere.
The main parking strip in front of Churches is packed, so I park further south
by the trailer sites, and what I see before me is. . . It’s not what I was
hoping for.
It’s walled. Too big for this place to hold
shape. Guys are sitting way at the bottom of the wave. The lines are surfable
but they aren’t tapered. No clean peaks, just sections that end in closeouts. I
walk all the way to Middles, which is just a long closeout all the way to
Lowers. Fuck me. Plus it’s overcast and fucking cold.
 |
| Top of Churches |
 |
| North Churches going into Middles |
 |
| Middle Trestles |
 |
| Churches right |
I drive to Old Mans, and the shape sucks.
It’s big, there’s a lot of water moving around, but the peaks are long and
soft, so I drive back to Churches and suit up.
The 6’0 Mini Driver is in today’s travel
quiver, in case I need the extra volume, but the 5’10 should be fine.
The paddle out’s not too bad, but the
inside whitewash is a little strong. First I sit at the bottom of the wave.
Nothing. I start inching my way towards the main pack and stop just short of
them. That being said, the top of the wave is actually breaking. The waves
aren’t peeling super long all the way towards the inside like how Churches can
be on a good day, but it’s still rip worthy. The main problem is that everyone
is sitting at the top of the wave. Longboarders, rippers, an SUP guy are all on
it. Fuck. On crowded days I just pick a different spot to sit, but for today’s
conditions, that tactic won’t work.
I watch huge peaks roll in but have to pass
because someone’s already on them. The sets are coming in head-high plus.
Fucking A. I scratch out on a few. I feel it . . . not enough board. It’s too
big for the 5’10.
Now if I said that I’m not nervewracked,
I’d be lying, but it doesn’t mean that I’m scared either. The feeling I have is
more of a respect thing. Yes, Churches isn’t a round wave, but there is size,
and being sucked down by one of these monsters could be taxing.
I turn and go on my first right. The
shoulder starts to race and section, so I kick out early. A guy on the shoulder
who had backed out gives me an extended glace. Should I have held on to that
one?
It takes a while to catch another wave.
Suddenly, I regret kicking out early on my last. I survive the drop on the next
right, bottom turn, and cutback, but when I redirect, the wave mooshes out.
Next wave, I get two lethargic soft backhand turns. Fuckin’ A.
Impatient, I paddle towards the top and sit
with the pack. I hate surfing like this. You have no idea how much I fucking
hate crowds. I have to pass on waves because guys are so aggressive on them, I
swear they’d fuck their own mothers just to catch a wave. As a wave rolls
through and dips down, a massive line is way outside behind it. Someone lets
out a hoot. Everyone scrambles. An old longboarder with a dickbroom mustache
looks at me and starts laughing. What was that I said about respect? The wave stands
up and breaks, and now I’m faced with a mountain of white wash. I duckdive for
subterranean obliteration. No, not as gnarly as a big Porto wipeout, but it’s
strong enough to keep dragging and dragging me backwards. I resurface a few
feet away from Dickbroom. Close one.
And . . . I want to tell you that the surf
turned on, that I got that one wave that made it all worth it, and that I got a
solid four-turn wave all the way to the inside. Instead. . .
Fuck I’m cold. The air and water
temperature have dropped dramatically this month. My 3/2 isn’t retaining much
heat. A lull ensues, leaving every surfer just sitting in the lineup with their
thoughts, and then . . . a nice set comes, but everyone is already on it. I
struggle. Top of the wave, middle of the wave, bottom of the wave.
My last wave’s a closeout. On the inside, I
see a rogue set approaching, and everyone darting out to beat it. It’s been two
hours. Two hours and I haven’t caught shit. I turn around and catch the
whitewash in, stung at how I’ve just gotten skunk at Churches for the first
time in a long time.
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