Loc: Churches
Time: 715-1015
Crew: Jimmy, Manny
Conditions: 2-3 FT, glassy, sunny, warm,
inconsistent
Board: Motorboat Too
Gary
was on a mission. Literally, he had prepacked all his gear the night before,
and he was already heading to Lower Trestles in the dark. Rick followed suit a
few minutes behind. Even though I had told them that I’d meet them there, I was
apprehensive of surfing SoCal’s most crowded A-frame.
I
took my time getting up, and then Manny, Rick’s Bro, showed up. He said he
still had to go to work, and that there was no way he was surfing Lowers
because of the amount of heads he had counted out there.
North
Churches was weak, but I stubbornly sat there, waiting for my payday. Even the
longboarders at the top of the wave looked like statues in the midst of the
long lulls.
Manny
paddled over to me and motioned behind him. “Looks better over there,” he said.
I didn’t want to leave, but I also didn’t want to be anti social.
Manny
was ripping it on a 4’11” Average Joe, so fucking small. He got a frontside air
on a right but missed the landing. “Sometimes I land weird,” he said. “Like the
board lands between my legs.” Not sure if I’ll ever be able to relate to airs.
Manny
called me into a right. I took it and got two snaps, kicking out of the third
turn.
“Looks
zippy!” he said. I nodded. Then I got a freak left, two in a row.
The
surf was fun, but it was just inconsistent. The new swell was barely showing,
so sizewise it was a bust.
When
Manny and Jimmy left, I paddled towards Middles and sat on the outside of
Lowers. I saw Parko, Carissa, Lakey, Medina, and Wiggoly just tearing shit up.
So many people were rushing Lowers and trying to get in on the action. All I
could do was smile and watch. It was the first time I had ever been so close to
a pack of pros.
#
Loc: Churches
Time: 1700-1830
Crew: Rick
Conditions: 2-3 FT+, onshore, consistent,
choppy
Board: Channel Islands #4
Unlike
the day before, the onshore wind picked up and didn’t settle down. Rick did the
repair on my Lost Mini Driver, and then I paddled out on Gary’s #4. He heavily
insisted.
So
I paddled out on it, and it took forever to get a good wave. I didn’t go as
deep as North Churches and settled in at the top of the wave. The same crew
from yesterday was out along with some new faces. Must’ve been from the surf
report that gave that day a good rating, but really, the prior afternoon was
when they should’ve been there.
As
shitty as the surf was, that #4 was working, and I couldn’t really tell if it
was a superior wave craft or not, all I knew was that there was so much volume
on it that I was able to get any wave I wanted. It was just too easy. I’m too
light for it. It reminded me of the blue Zippifish I used to ride, but this
board was a little looser.
When
Rick came out, he did well on his battered Neckbeard. I rode past him on a
rogue right, a right that I thought I was too late for. When I got the wave, I
instantly made the section without trying, and it was open and smooth face
thereafter. I actually got three snaps. I felt the other guys’ stares. They
weren’t drawn in by me but more by how lucky I was to get a wave like that.
After
my ride, Rick got two good rights, too.
Later
that night, Sebastian showed up with a twelve pack of Modelos, chicken wings,
and potato wedges. We had gone through all of our provisions, so Seba’s arrival
was a godsend. An hour later, Domino’s pizza came through. By the skin of our
ass cheeks, we hit our third night in a row well nourished.
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