Loc: North Churches
Time: 1540-1640
Crew: Jimmy & Garr
Conditions: 2-3 FT, windswell, choppy,
unorganized
Board: Motorboat Too
The
weather had rain in the forecast, and we were hoping that it wouldn’t hit too
badly. Before going to bed that Monday night I looked at the sky and said, “It
doesn’t look too bad. I can still see the stars.”
“Usually
gets worse overnight,” said Rick.
Sure
as shit, at about 0300 I was awoken by pelting rain on my wagon window. I had
to piss, but I was like, fuck that.
In
the morning, we still woke up and did our usual cup of coffee, but we were
huddled around the picnic table underneath the E-Z Up. There was a lull in the
action, and the rain was just coming down in light misty sheets. Rick and the
fellas had planned to check Del Mar Jetty, but minute by minute as our shins
got wetter and wetter, an official lay day was called.
Before
they left, the rain started to come down harder, beating down on top of Rick’s
tent and the EZ-Up like a million little fingers wanting in. They left. I drove
my car up to Churches and just parked right there to catch up on a blog post.
A
few cars pulled up to check the surf and left, but one car remained. I turned
on my car just to activate the windshield wipers so I could get a pic, and
that’s when I saw him. One lone soul surfer was paddling out in the miserable
conditions on a longboard. Wherever there are waves, no matter the kind, you
will always find one.
#
I
spent the entire morning and early afternoon sitting on my ass in the Camp
Pendleton Library. While on my computer, I was distracted every time a strong
gust of rain blew through, but by the afternoon it was sunny and warm again.
Getting
back to camp, all I wanted was to get in the water. Caffeine struck and
stagnant, I just couldn’t wait to get in.
I
passed a few guys on the inside. Another surfer at the top of Churches, with a
ponytail, thought I was trying to back paddle him, but I just kept going and
going until reaching the north end of the break.
Soon
Jimmy and Gary joined. The peaks reminded me of scattered and unorganized
windswell, like when there’s so much activity that a rideable peak could just
sprout up at any moment.
My
Motorboat Too didn’t feel good on those waves. Some of the peaks stood up fast
and just shouldered out. Gary and Jimmy had good voluptuous hardware that had
them getting waves all the way to the inside.
For
dinner that night we headed to Gary’s parents’ house and ate some home cooked
enchiladas. “You guys are more than welcome to stay out here,” said Gary’s dad.
“It’s gonna rain again tonight.” He started listing off the places that each of
us could sleep. It was a big house. The air was still misty with a heavy
overcast; we were definitely being set up for another night of misery. Rick and
Gary’s tent had gotten flooded, so I knew the offer must’ve seemed
exceptionally worthy at that moment.
As
I ate, I couldn’t help but feel like I was eating the best meal of my life. The
idea of going back to camp and the thought of the cold wet air outside made me
shiver. Inside, we had hot food in our tummies. The T.V. was on. We were
watching some bullshit, it didn’t matter. All we knew was that it felt so good
to be dry.
“I
think we’re heading out of here, Pablo,” said Rick. Of course. We can’t ditch
camp. It’s all part of the experience. We powerwalked back to Rick’s van and
shut its doors as fast as we could.
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