Fri., Oct. 11th, 2019: Red Flag Sessions #2

Loc: 45^th St., El Porto

Time: 1100-1200

Conditions: offshore, 1-2 Ft., ankle slappers,

Board: Zippifish

Same place but just a little bit later than yesterday. The conditions were even better. Zero wind, it felt like. The ocean was glassy and calm as a lake, but…the surf definitely tapered off big time. There weren’t even a ton of surfers out, it was so small. Mostly longboarders, foamies, and just any small wave equipment possible. Me, I had the Zippi. It’s my go to board when it’s tiny, and I can still turn it. Those glassed-on twin fins get me down the line with speed when it’s small and slopey, but I really, truly was NOT expecting much.

First wave I caught was an inside runner. After that, for the next 20 minutes, I struggled. Most of the waves I tried to get into just got obliterated by my paddling and kicking alone. I kept scratching out over and over again; it was tough. Then…the tide dropped just a hair more, and the sandbars were now sprouting up these little two-foot peaks with these racy corners on them. I can’t say I got legit turns, but I was flying down the line, making sections, pulling off floaters at the end. It was super fun just to get the distance. I was running circles around people in my vicinity: two Euros who had GoPros filming each other, the longboard guy who paddled out and sat right on top of me, the noob chick in a full suit even though it was hot.

After my good rides I, I found people with their heads turned towards me as I paddled back. I couldn’t believe it. There was just enough surf to still milk some legit stoke, and I did it on a 5’6 Zippifish, tiny compared to all the foam everyone else had.

I unexpectedly ended the session after a wave in. My inner voice just said, “You had enough. Time to go.” So, I did. I had enough time to eat, make my dinner for work, and take my time preparing my uniform for the salt mines. In fact, I still left a few minutes early.

After that session I felt like a thief. I shouldn’t have gotten all those waves so easily, but my timing was right and so was my surf craft. Right place, right time. I guess that comes with experience. No, I can’t get airs, probably never will. I don’t get consistently barreled. I don’t paddle out when it’s double overhead. But…I know how to catch waves. I know how to milk them. I know how to make crappy and lackluster surf look good. That to me is an accomplishment.

Thu., Oct. 10th, 2019: Red Flag Sessions #1

Loc: 45^th St., El Porto

Time: 1000-1100

Conditions: very, very light texture, 2-3 ft., uncrowded, consistent, decent shape

Board: Skipper

            With the news pumping up abundant offshore winds and red flag warnings, I had a feeling that the wind would be prime for whatever surf the South Bay had on tap. Of course, there are the people to consider who will/are affected by the wildfires to come from these red flag warnings and conditions. My condolences go out to them, but here in El Segundo life can’t stop for me, so I’m going to hit the beach like I try to do as much as possible.

            High tide can be a bitch. It’s right smack dab around 0800, so the decision has to be made to either go at first light to catch it on the upswing or after high tide to catch it going down. Habitually, my body is more prone to wake up well rested around 0700, which works out because that’s when my wife wakes up, and I’ll also have about seven hours of sleep, which is awesome for me.

            I scored parking at my usual spot. As much as I’d rather surf Rosecrans or even 26^th St. to see all the locals I know, it’s hard to beat free, easy, prime parking. I’ve also come to realize over the years that sometimes you have to lone wolf it. I can’t organize my surf schedule around other people. I miss some of my buds, but I have to also hit it in a fashion that’s convenient for me.

            I couldn’t exactly tell what the surf was doing. I had brought my Puddle Jumper with me, but I opted to go with the Skipper. One, because the Skipper is fun, and two because if it just happens to be too small or even dumpy, I’ll still be able to catch waves on it.

            Once I made my way into the El Porto parking lot, everything was just so wide open. Not the parking, necessarily, but the sky. It was just so blue without a cloud in it. Also, the heat coming from the offshores just made the air feel stale, like the desert meeting the ocean. I know that description sounds dreary, but it’s not, not with the cool ocean right there. For 1000 the conditions were freaking awesome. There was only a light texture on the water, but even better were the waves. Sure, they weren’t big, maybe consistently two feet, but there was actually shape.

            Typically, 42^nd was packed, but over by the rocks I made my stand. With only a few people out I was able to scrape into everything I went for. No mini barrels today, but I was getting down the line easily. Actually, I struggled in a major category—turns! I should’ve busted out the Puddle Jumper. That was my bad. I had so many rights that were perfect setups for single-hit backhand snaps, and going rail-to-rail on the skipper is not easy. Those full rails just make it hard. So, even with open canvases there wasn’t much I could do.

            A guy paddled up to me and said, “Man, what is that you’re on? A Beater?”

            I explained that it was the Skipper and that it’s fun but I can’t turn on it.

            “Well you’re still making it look fun,” he said.

            And that’s how the rest of the session went. I was barely out for an hour, and I had such a good fill that it was all I needed.

Wed., Oct. 9th, 2019: Crumbly

Loc: Church Beach / Trestles

Time: 1000-1130

Conditions: onshore, 3-4 Ft., slopey, crowded

Board: Puddle Jumper

            We gambled. Why hit the surf early on the high tide? I’ve surfed Church enough on a high tide and am well versed on how a slopey wave can get even slopier with too much water. It’s not fun. So…on a rare day off, since the wife had the Jewish holiday for the school district, we headed south.

            Unfortunately, when we showed up, there was already texture as well as a lot of fucking people. At the bottom of Church, the long right at the south end, a set popped up, and despite the wind there were a few long, peeling rights. We were hopeful at that point and opted for the smaller of our boards in hopes to get a little bit of performance surfing. Still, we didn’t paddle out right there, especially at the sight of a longboard pack who just paddled out in front of us. We pushed it to north Church where I score my usual lefts when it’s working. Yeah…it was crowded there, too.

            The tide was on its way out but still high. The waves coming in were so slopey, like those gutless shoulders that welcome more planing surface to just trim down the line (a longboard) versus more face to surf top to bottom.

            It was hard to even get the scraps. Guys already had the spot on lock, sitting at the top.

            Into the next hour the wind picked up and people started to leave. The waves began to stand up more, but the quality was a big issue. Just the wind alone kept making the waves run away faster. It didn’t matter that we had the pick of the litter now. Regardless, the quality was still better than Porto, if that means anything. My best waves were on my backhand. I got one long right, a borderline triple hitter that swung so wide that no one else stood a chance to get it. I had maybe two like that.

            Bri did okay, but I think we should’ve ridden our bigger equipment. That was my mistake. But she was happy, especially after being sick all last week, she was stoked just to be out. As KK would say, “Any day surfing beats a day in the office.” He’s right. I’m a firm believer of that.

            We hit the freeway again for home, stopping for a couple McCafés and then grabbing lunch at the best Chinese restaurant in the South Bay, Seafood Town in Torrance. Three lunch special dishes, totaling at $29 after tip, was enough to also feed us for dinner that night. But…that classic session is still looming over me. When will I catch Church good again, solo or maybe with Klaude? Who knows? But I am due. I am due for an epic sesh.

Tue., Oct. 8th, 2019: Grinder

Loc: 45^th St.

Time: 0830-0930

Conditions: light texture, 2-3 Ft., dumpy, uncrowded

Board: Catch Surf Skipper

            As usual, I scored free parking. I was on the later train to avoid the rising tide. I wanted to catch it on the way down. I couldn’t exactly tell what the surf looked like at the top of the hill, but when I walked down, I could see that it was dumpy, solidifying the foamy as a good choice.

            The waves were super sectiony. The hint of a shoulder just stretched out over the shallower inside and dumped. Somehow, I managed to snag the in-between waves that had marginal shape, legit kissing the lip on my front side before the wave shut down.

            I pulled into a few for some barrel practice but still wasn’t the worthiest day for even that.

            A few longboard chicks paddled out and were jaw jacking back and forth about how dumpy it was, and then a set wave came, one that actually had a shoulder. A turned and scratched for it. I was literally at the end of the corner, right where it looked flat but would immediately pick up as soon as the main lip folded over. The drop was so fast that I had to knee ride it, but I slotted myself in the hollow pocket. I don’t know if going to my knees is a bad habit or not, but I can tell if I’m too late. Going to my feet would take a fraction of a second longer and make me miss my mark of where I need to be. My knees though, if I’m super late I can save some time and get in there, so I was. I was in there, the white cavernous swirl around me turning white and sandy from the wave sucking up everything over the inside bar. One of the longboarder chicks was paddling out and saw me in perfect view. I knew I wouldn’t make it out, but I held on and held my line until detonation. I had my arms up like a Y; I didn’t know what else to do. And at point of impact, it’s like I was pushed forward in a box of suds and sand, still on my board until I tumbled off into the shallows. No consequences, no injuries. I guess it’s easy to get away with this when it’s not too gnarly out, but even then, the bigger set waves are hella dumpy.

            “How was that?” the longboarder chick asked.

            “I was in there. It was super grindy. I didn’t make it out, but it was nice having this board. I can kind of go for it on the foamie.”

            We talked for a little bit longer, but I paddled back to my spot. Another set wave came, just like the grinder I had caught before. This one heavyset longboarder chick hooted this longboarder dude who was at the top of the peak. He had prime position. It would have been gnarly if he went for it, especially on his board, but…he backed out. Right there on the shoulder, I turned and went. I popped up, but my footing was off. I felt like I was wheelieing, hitting the brakes too hard on my back foot. I never stuck my bottom turn to redirect down the line, and just like that the wave crashed behind me. Fock, that would’ve been a good one.

            And of course, when I paddled back to the lineup, the heavyset chick was on the balls of the other longboarder dude, talking about, “Wow, that was so dumpy! It’s so dumpy out here!”

            Sorry…I am being totally judgmental, but yeah. At least I actually went for it.

            And that was the session. I walked back up the hill, feeling I got as much as I could. Parking for free helped. No need to feel obligated to that hour or hour and a half that I would have put in. Even on a day like that of insignificant surf, I still felt good. It was nice, driving on Vista Del Mar back to El Segundo, windows down and wind in my hair, salty, ready to move on with the rest of my day right.

Fri., Oct. 4th, 2019: Unexpected Fun

Loc: 45^th St.

Time: 0830-0930

Conditions: Clean offshore, 2-3 Ft., semi dumpy, fun, crowded

Board: Zippifish

            Surfline said the swell would be tapering off, so I expected a slow morning of lully surf. I was even supposed to meet a guy who wanted to buy my 5’10 Lost Mini Driver, which I barely ride nowadays, so I brought that board with me in case he would be surfing. Aside from that, I ditched the Skipper for a change and brought the twin fin Zippifish.

            On my way to Porto I could already see that there were waves, and not just waves but a little bigger and better than yesterday. What the fuck, Surfline? As usual, right before I hit the Highland Ave. and 45^th St. intersection, I have to make the clutch decision on where I’m going to park. If I make the right into the lot, I’m committing to the meters. If I keep going straight, I may end up pushing my way towards 26^th to find some free street parking over there, or…if I just keep an eye out, I might get lucky and just find something right here. Lo and behold, I find a spot in the immediate vicinity, so 45^th St. it is!

            I love street parking because, one, I obviously don’t have to feed a meter. If you surf four to five days out of the week, then meter costs eventually add up. Also, when you score a street spot you don’t have to rush as much. The clock is friendlier, and you can stay out and surf to your heart’s content without worrying about getting a ticket.

            Already looking down the hill, I can see that my board choice is off. Fack, I should’ve brought the Skipper. The surf looks consistent, a little sectiony, breaking close to shore, and even a little bigger. When it’s dumpy like this I’d rather practice pulling in with a foamie than purling on a big hunk of voluminous board like…the Zippi I have now. But at the same time, it’s nice to change things up. I’ve been leaning on the Skipper quite a lot lately, thanks to KK who sold it to me (I’m sorry, brother, I had to buy it from you because I had been riding it hard. It wouldn’t have been right for me to hand it back to you like that.).

            So I throw on my slippers and walk down. I’ve cut my feet so many times on glass or stepped in globs of tar, a bad thing about street parking. When I reach the lot, I see that it’s packed. Surfers are coming out of the water back to their cars, but there are still a lot of people in the water, mostly congregated near 42^nd St. and in front of the sandwich shack.

            I paddle out right at 45^th where there’s a noobie Asian chick on a longboard. Immediately I start catching waves around her. Even though I don’t have the preferable equipment, I start pulling in on closeouts. On my fronstside lefts I’m developing a technique where, instead of my two-hand stall, I grab the rail on my board towards the tail with my right hand and lean my left shoulder into the wave, using my back to stall my momentum, and…it actually works. I haven’t made it out of a barrel doing this yet, but it’s fun just to mess around. This has been a breakthrough year for me in scoring tiny barrels. Being honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever get a big barrel, but even the little ones are so small that I’ll happily claim being a small-barrel guy if I can keep getting them consistently.

            After years of eating shit, I finally know the difference between going nowhere and actually getting a little momentum and distance in the tube. There is the flash of travelling, being under the lip as it’s curling, and that extra second of travel time that you get from holding on and just wiping out in the barrel, fully committed and not preparing for a safe exit. This is arguably dangerous but on these small dumpy days, they aren’t as consequential.

            So I kept going and catching waves unmolested. A guy with a familiar face paddles past me and says, “Ain’t much out here today.” I’m stoked that he even remembers me. It’s funny how you eventually become a local just by consistently showing up, alone. It doesn’t have to be every day. It can be every once in a while, but as long as you show your face you are a regular, and you do belong.

            The surf was consistent. I got enough of a satisfying fill that after an hour I was content enough to leave. I’ve also been getting better at that lately. When I feel like I’ve had enough, it’s a lot easier to walk away. I can move on to the rest of my day, surf mission completed.

            On the sand I crossed paths with another familiar face. I didn’t even think he wanted to talk, but when I looked back up he smiled and said hi. I’ve seen him several times out here, have never spoken a word to him, but the familiarity with having seen each other before was enough for a greeting.

            I am currently making moves in my life to further solidify this surfing lifestyle. Stay tuned. Also, I recontacted the guy who wanted to buy my Mini Driver. I told him that I’m holding onto it instead. I gotta see if I can get barreled on it this winter. If not, I’m selling it.