WAGON WEEK PT.1 (double), MON 14 SEPT2015

Loc: San Onofre / Churches

Time: 0710-0910      

Conditions: 2-3 FT, south wind, texture, racy, warm

Board: Motorboat Too

     Rick has a campsite for a week during the Lower Trestles event, so how can I say no? My plan is to get my surf on, hang with the fellas, but still do some freelance work at the library to maintain productivity.

     I kiss Bri on the cheek and leave the house at 0530. I create some new Pandora stations for the drive: Elton John and Billy Joel. My mom, who passed away August of last year, has been on my mind a lot lately. I’ll hear a song that reminds me of her. The other day when I was cooking dinner, just the way the light was shining in the kitchen, the hot summer air, and the sound of plates and silverware clanging, those elements combined brought me back to my childhood. I remembered my how my mom would cook dinner for us in our dim kitchen while the sun was going down, her radio on the corner table playing K-Earth 101, me being too young to fully appreciate the sacrifices she was making for us, and how an act so common as cooking for your family is rooted deeply with love. It’s sad how you realize things when it’s too late. . .

     “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” played as I hit San Clemente. I could already see the textured lines rolling in at Middles as I made the left. Showing up to Churches, Gary, Juan, Dave, and Rick were already up and about, but the surf . . . ha! My luck, right? When I was here during Labor Day the swell was too big to hold shape, and now the south wind is on it, creating sectiony chopped-out lines. Son of a bitch.

     I say hi to the homies and change into my wetsuit.

     “Too hot for that,” says Rick.

     “You’re gonna roast,” says Juan.

     Rick dumps a Hurley springsuit in the back of my wagon. “Put this on,” he says.

     Despite the cool air temp, the water is just as hot as it was a week ago. I paddle towards North Churches and sit with a few longboarders, giving out some morning greetings to disarm any preconceived hostilities, a tactic that encourages wave sharing; sometimes it works.

     Unfortunately, shape is an issue. I’m picky but still end up on some racy closeouts. I get a few rights and get some frustro carves, forced to kickout early. My foot touches the bottom for a second on one wave, and, sure as shit, I check my heel out in the lineup, and I’ve got a flap of skin over a deep crater in my heel. I’m hoping it’s not as bad as it feels.

     Towards the end of the sesh, I get a decent left but blow the power carve and eat it. I get a few rights that offer some snaps, but there’s nothing spectacular. At least it’s not crowded.

     On the sand, I take a look at my heel, and the sand around it is already caked in blood. I show Juan and Dave, and they clean up my wound and bandage me up.

#

Time: 1530-1820      

Crew: Jimmy, Rick, Gary

Conditions: 2-3 FT, light onshore, soft, warm

Board: Motorboat Too

     After spending some time at the San Clemente Library, I headed back to camp, stopping to grab some ice for the fellas on the way back. When I showed up Jimmy B. had just arrived, but Juan and Dave were long gone.

     The ocean looked a lot cleaner with classic light onshore conditions, producing decent shape. Issue was with the size. On low tide, the energy in the water was a bit sapped, but we paddled out at the bottom of Churches to milk some of the rights.

     Like a tractor beam, the main peak pulled us towards it, and we ended up sitting with the light afternoon crowd. I managed to get a couple of decent rights, like those shouldery waves that break at the top of Churches. For the first time in a while, I had a couple classic right handers to myself, small but good enough for some snaps.

     Rick snaked Gary on one of the rights. I thought Rick would kick out for his buddy, but he waited until he got three turns before doing so, only leaving Gary with a double hitter. They signed each other back and forth, the interference diamond, and then Gary punched his palm and pointed to Rick.

     I eventually ended up at North Churches with Jimmy where he was milking the lefts. When he left, it was just me and Rick and a handful of groms. As the tide push began, they stood up more, but I still struggled on my board. I forgot how it doesn’t do so well when it’s this small on such a slopey wave versus small beach break where there’s at least some punch.

     Rick did well on his repaired Neckbeard. The volume of that board propelled him through the flat sections and had him throwing out some buckets. Wave of the day went to him on a rogue four footer.

     For dinner, Jimmy had two pressure cookers going with pork loin and organic pinto beans, made from scratch. He also had wild rice in a family-sized rice cooker. It was the cleanest meal I had ever eaten while camping.

     Rick and Gar were done early, but Jimmy stayed up with me by the fire and was asking some serious life questions about what I planned on doing next. I was on the spot and uncomfortable, but . . . I kind of needed that.

     I’m definitely stepping into the next phase of my life. Surf-bum time is over. I can still be a surf bum, but I must do so selectively. There’s a time to surf and a time to work, and when the waves aren’t hitting I need to be doing something freelance or at least have a gig lined up where I have money coming in. The major crossroad that I face is: do I turn into a full time nine-to-fiver or find freelance work with flexibility but less security? I’m going to be married, and I want to provide, but I still want to live an autonomous lifestyle.