FALL, SAT 12SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0630-0820

Crew: Bri, KK, Tom   

Conditions: 2-3 FT, light texture, mid-to-high tide, overcast

Board: 5’10 Lost Mini Driver, quads with nubster

     I wasn’t expecting much to begin with, but after taking a lay day I really wanted to paddle out and catch whatever the surf was offering. We scored free parking and got to the water by 0615. I flipped my board upside down and saw that I had punctured the bottom of my board, a deep one the circumference of a quarter.

     “You can’t surf it like that,” said Bri. She paddled out ahead of me.

     Fuck. It’s not like I had another board. I rushed back to the car and kneaded some FCS putty, and then local vet Burt walked over and sealed it with some packing tape. I thanked him repeatedly. I’m telling you, that’s why I love surfing here. The locals are cool, so long as you know how to share. It made me think about other surf spots, the most crowded ones. Are the lineups that bad or does being a regular make the difference? It should, right? Like, I can’t just paddle out at Malibu and expect to get waves. I don’t surf there, but I bet that there’s a pack of regulars who acknowledge each other and offer some kind of courtesy. You invest in surf a spot, get your card stamp every time, and after a while with enough validation you get your “free” wave.

     Back on the sand, the lineup was already starting to get packed in front of the tower. It was now 0630. Scattered clouds were stretched out over the horizon, giving the sky a bright pink depth, lightly overcast but still warm. Are these El Nino conditions? I had a moment of gratefulness. Just to see that picturesque sky, you can’t buy that. You gotta be up early. You gotta be here.

     The tide seemed low, but with a 5-foot high tide in a couple hours, I knew that the window would be small. Clean, fast, and racy little peaks were coming in. Unfortunately they didn’t offer much. I pulled in or pumped for a short distance, but even though the surf was small it was nice seeing all the locals out.

     Bri and I paddled through the lineup, caught up with everyone, and gave greetings all around. Bri caught more waves than I did and milked the smaller ones that were more shouldery. Tom came out and did the same.

     Klaude paddled out at about 0800, barebacking it. The south wind was minute but had enough push to create some texture on the water.

     We left at 0820. It was a “whatever” morning that was worth the company more than the waves.

     As usual, cars buzzed around the metered parking looking for spots. A woman asked if we were leaving and then waited for us to change. The overcast still painted the sky pink, a nice break from the relentless sun we’ve had all week, and then we caught a light drizzle on the way home. It was odd but beautiful. It felt like Halloween and pre Thanksgiving. It felt like fall.

CLICKING, THU 10SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0615-0815

Crew: Collin         

Conditions: 2-4 FT+, clean, warm, racy

Board: 5’10 Lost Mini Driver, quads with nubster

     It was one of those did-everything-right mornings. I had gone to bed at a decent time, slept well, woke up at 0515, and even ate a bowl of cereal.

     Young Mike was the only guy changing in the lot when I arrived. There was free parking everywhere. I wanted to say hi to him, but he surfs pretty well, so I didn’t want to be all up on his jock. Someone in a van called him over. I didn’t know who the van guy was, but it looked like he had spent the night in it. I wouldn’t say that there are cliques where I surf, but there are groups of surfers who I don’t interact with much. I wondered where I fit in the bigger picture at my local break.

     Minding my own business, I continued to change, and then I heard a whistle. I looked up. Young Mike was saying hi.

     Is it possible to be at the beach too early? Young Mike was the only guy in the water as far as I could see in both directions. He was just south of 26^th. The waves were racy over the mid tide. He’d paddle into a wave and kickout before it closed. On one, he pulled in and drove in the tube and then punched out.

     There were clouds over the horizon shaped like fluffy diarrhea, so the sky was darker than yesterday. Stalling, I stretched and warmed up. When guys started filtering down to the sand, that’s when I paddled out.

     Despite how warm the air temp is, it’s still hard to get that first submersion in the morning. The water felt cold, but after my first duckdive I was fine.

     Young Mike had his spot, so I didn’t want to crowd him. The current was pulling north. Before long I was in front of the tower, and then the high school armada showed up, so I drifted further north to the brick house where I’d have a peak to myself.

     When I had first seen the surf, I didn’t expect much. Definitely no shape for turns. If anything, the waves were racy, hollow, and fast, and I only saw myself pulling into pinchers.

     My first couple of waves were actually worthy attempts. I tried to pick the best ones that had a hint of shoulder to them. Finally, I’m feeling so much more comfortable pulling in. Everything up to getting slotted is slowing down, like I’m getting better at setting myself up, even throwing in a pump or two in the tube. Now, granted, it was a small tube day, just super playful and non consequential, so I’m not being cocky like I’m fuckin’ the second coming of Shane Dorian or something. I know my place.

     My barrel attempts were worthy because I was driving. They were good selections, clear caverns of liquid with light pouring in, and things only went dark when the wave shut down. If I could freeze the moment it would look like clear marble or ice. I’d imagine that it’s how the inside of a shell looks like.

     Some of the peaks had legit shoulders. One of them was rampy. As I popped up, I could tell that the lip was gonna throw out over the pocket, so I pulled in, tried to stall, and head dipped, securing a partial coverup. When I straightened out, I almost lost my balance when the wave closed, but I legit rode out of it.

     There were a few more where I came really close. One was racy, and I just kept pumping, waiting for that moment to pull in if I could just make the shoulder. When I did, the chandelier was over me. I tried to escape but got clobbered by the lip.

     Collin paddled out, and we surfed together for about twenty minutes. The current kept taking him away. I fought it the whole time and maintained position. My shoulder still hurt, but I paddled through it. I hope my decision to surf through the pain won’t be one I’ll regret.

     Wave of the day, the old tall dude with white hair who coaches the surf team scratched out on the first wave of a set. “Awww, come on!” he yelled. The next wave came right to me. It was a nice four footer with a tapered shoulder. I almost paddled in too late but recovered well on the drop and bottom turn. The wave was standing up faster than expected, and for a moment I was getting another partial cover up but this time with room. I didn’t realize that the wave was about to section off into an oncoming right, so I pulled out into the flats with the wave exploding behind me. Best part . . . I had perfect balance in the flats. I just had this . . . stoked feeling, like everything in my surfing was just beginning to click.

     The barrel attempts weren’t free. I took some beatings, holding my line too long. My board hit my head. On another wipeout, it shot up and my rail whacked my ribs on my way down. I’m not as good as wiping out in the tube as I had hoped. Also, I only went forehand the whole time, so I know my backhand tube skills are suffering.

     Yet, after surfing Trestles last weekend, I couldn’t help but be grateful. These dumpy waves were so easy to manage compared to wearing ten setwaves on the head. Even in SoCal where the lineups can get jam packed, there I was on a Thursday morning, a solid two hours in with only a small handful of people to my left and right. It was a gem of a morning that is hard to explain, but as a surfer, you must appreciate it.

FINDING THEM, WED 09SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0620-0850      

Conditions: 2-4 FT+, sunny, warm, disorganized, crowded

Board: 5’10 Lost Mini Driver

     After taking a lay day yesterday, I decided to get in the water again. Despite the south swell, I just stayed local because I didn’t want to road trip it again. Plus, it would be nice to show my face and get my local card revalidated.

     I didn’t really know what to expect. Collin had told me that yesterday the swell wasn’t hitting right and that he got worked, so I slapped on my quads in case I needed the speed.

     Finding parking was easy. As I made my way across The Strand, parents were dropping off all the high schoolers.

     Like dejavu, Young Mike was out just south of the tower. “Where’d you surf this weekend?” I asked.

     “I just surfed here. It was pretty fun,” he said.

     “I heard there was current.”

     “Yeah, there was, but most people here don’t know how to surf, so the current just took them away, and. . .”

     He took the next wave. Ha. . . I wondered what he thought about me and if I fell into his kook category or not. Either way, it all depends on whom you’re being compared to. Someone’s always better than you.

     The second wave of the set popped up. I went for it. It didn’t look like much of a wave, but I was surprised at how fast it was standing up. Aside from that, I was just as surprised with how well I paddled into it. Seems like resting and taking lay days is paying off.

     I bottom turned and pulled in. The wave stood up and curled over me, a super fun-sized four footer. I saw the exit but got pinched at the end. Wow. Almost. I looked at the shore. The surf coaches were watching the kids in front of the tower, who were all donned in red, yellow, and blue jerseys. All around me, the rest of the kids paddled out.

     I really wanted to stay and surf that peak after that wave, but the abundance of groms pushed me out. Instead, I paddled north and sat on the brick house.

     The surf was a bit disorganized. It was mid tide, but there was already some backwash. Most of the peaks were coming in a little too lined up and sectiony, but there must have been a different swell mix because a decent peak would come through now and then.

     At first I was trying to pull into everything, but nothing really opened up. I finally started going for turns. On one wave I got three floaters in a row because it was so sectiony. No turns but fun.

     Wave of the day was a shouldery left. As I popped up, I saw that the shoulder was standing up and about to curl. I pulled in but didn’t stall. I got as close to the face as possible and just dipped my head for a partial coverup. The ride felt fast, bumpy, and uncontrolled but still worthy. I was pretty stoked after that. Not bad finding a gem in mediocre conditions.

END OF LABOR DAY TRIP, MON 07SEPT2015

Loc: North Churches

Time: 0615-0900      

Crew: Hideki, Tom, Collin

Conditions: 6 FT, sunny, glassy, warm

Board: 6’0 Lost Mini Driver

     Klaude left last night, but we gained two more friends: Collin and Tom from Manhattan Beach.

     That Labor Day morning, I woke up at 0515, made some coffee, and threw on the Hurley gear that Rick had let me borrow. I threw on a light coat of sunblock while it was still dark out and woke up the fellas. There was no way I wasn’t going to do a legit dawn patrol, especially on our last day with the cleanest conditions possible. Bri said she was sleeping in. She earned it. I told the rest of the boys that I’d meet them out there.

     It was 0600, and as I passed Churches there were already a dozen guys out. Suddenly, I felt like I wasn’t early enough.

     Paddling out to Mons, it was already packed. Fuckin’ A. To think, I expected the crowd to die a little after the last two days, but no, this morning was the most crowded since being here.

     One thing going for me was the conditions. Out here a little earlier, the water just seemed that much cleaner. The rights were looking much better, and I felt I had a chance to score a few good rides.

     First right, it just ran away and sectioned off. As pristine as the conditions were, the sets came in just as harsh and chaotic as the last two days. Paddled out and drained from the last four sessions, I was getting worked on the inside once again. It was barely 0615. I was half asleep and could barely hold onto my board. Every barrage of whitewash sent me in an awkward tumble, struggling to remount my equipment.

     Back outside, another right came my way. With barely any time to rest, I turned and went. My takeoff was late and steep, but I managed to make the drop. From there, the wave opened up and offered an open face. All the frustration from the last sessions went into the first turn, and the next, and the next. Three solid backhand powerhacks, my best wave of the trip. Even though I got worked paddling back out, this time it felt worth it.

     Everyone else came out at about 0630. Hideki would later say that it was his most frustrating session, but Tom and Collin managed to battle it out with the pack and score some good rights.   

     The major difference this morning was that the lulls were longer, and the surf would go deceivingly calm, but then the sets would be breaking so huge way far on the outside. Hideki and I were fortunate enough to beat a set together, a rare moment of being spared.

     Straight up, the sets were horrendous. Two longboarders were paddling into these bombs, but I’m not sure if it was such a good idea. I mean, there was nowhere to go, only straight, and these guys martyred themselves just for a single drop.

     For the first time this trip, almost everyone was getting caught by the sets, that’s how far outside they were breaking. A pack of five Polynesian chicks were surfing together. Two were on longboarders. When the sets came, one of them was actually making it through by turtle-diving her board. I applauded her for not ditching it. Meanwhile, her other friend just faced the shore and let the mountain of whitewash obliterate her. Collin later told me that the chick was clutching her board through the turbulence and that she would have ran him over if he hadn’t duckdove so deep.

     Yet in between the sets, I somehow managed to get a few double-hitter rights that lined up with good shape. It wasn’t an ideal Churches session, but it was as good as it was gonna get, and I was satisfied.

     We were back at camp by 0930, and the heat was already stifling. I was sweating through my clothes, breaking down the tent. Tom left, Collin left, and then Hideki was the last to go. We made our checkout time at 1050, ten minutes early.

     Usually Bri and I park and stay for the afternoon session and hit up some all-you-can-eat sushi on the way home, but we were drained. No mas. Plus the Labor Day crowd was out in full force, the lineup still packed, and the surf . . . the surf was looking better from shore, but it didn’t matter.

     We debated on where to eat on the way home, but I was so salty that I said I just wanted to unload the car and take a shower. We were heading back to our studio apartment in El Segundo, and she was okay with that. I really don’t know how lucky I got to get a good down-to-earth woman like Bri. Most chicks wouldn’t dig a surf bum. I feel I have a right to make that statement because I’ve earned it, I am a legit surf bum. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t like the clubs and the bars. She likes to surf. It’s only one of the many things I love about her.