WED 23SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th Street

Time: 0800-0910      

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 1-3 FT, variable wind, high tide, backwashy

Board: Motorboat Too

     What the fuck? I know that the primary swell is from the south, but how about a little wrap-around energy? I should have known it was a bad sign when barely any of the regulars were out. I spotted Oscar south of the tower, and so was the guy who had run over Bri one time. He was on his Costco foamie. I didn’t want to surf by him, so I moved us in front of the brick house.

     That one short stocky dude who helps coach the surf team was doing well on his funboard. Foam, maybe that’s what I needed. Even Bri struggled on her Hopper, which is blessed with volume.

     After a wave, she came back and said, “I just noticed this now.” She pointed to her deck. A line was going across the nose. The deck had a slight crack in it. It was flexed. “I think I nosedived it inside.”

     “You mean purled,” I said.

     One of the set waves was worthy for a pull in. It closed out from the backwash, but it was fun just to get gobbled by a wave that size.

     A squad of grom bodyboarders paddled out. I caught a left, a good one, and one of the kids was standing right in my line, filming me with his GoPro, so I had to kick out.

     “My bad!” he said.

     Last wave to go in, I wasn’t expecting much, but I paddled into a right that actually had a shoulder, at least a single hitter, but I didn’t even get a chance to wind up for the snap because my fiancé snaked me. Fuckin’ A. I guess that’s what marriage is about, letting someone snake you on your wave.

TUE 22SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th Street

Time: 0800-0910      

Conditions: 2-3 FT, glassy, warm, inconsistent

Board: Motorboat Too, large fins

     During the Labor Day camp trip, someone had told me, “Small board, big fins. Big board, small to medium fins.” With that in mind, and without much swell on tap, I thought it would be nice to experiment, so I grabbed the set of large Futures that Rick had given me to donate in Indo, which I didn’t, and slapped those suckers on the Motorboat Too. They have much more surface area than the medium Blackstix that KK had loaned me.

     As I said, I wasn’t expecting much, so I even showed up late for the second shift. To my demise, there was no street parking. I circled around and caught glimpses of the high schoolers on what looked like decent peaks. My anxiety grew looking for a spot, and I finally lucked out on Marine.

     I grabbed the MB Too and headed across The Strand, and there they were. Peaks, though fast, they were pretty consistent just south of 26^th Street. Unfortunately, that’s where the majority of the surfers were sitting.

     I paddled out at the tower and scratched into my first wave. Don K., The King, had to back out for me. I anticipated a zippy ride on my board, but as soon as I got to my feet, my board felt so sluggish and just got stuck. Man, I mean, like it was just shackled. Starved for momentum, all I could do was head dip the lip as the shoulder took off without me. Oh . . . how lame. Ha! And for The King of 26^th Street to have to back out for me on that one? For shame. . .

     And that’s how the rest of the session went. I watched that one good peak break. One dude, who I had never seen before, was just merry-go-rounding it one wave after another, small rides but still fun.

     My best wave was just a pumper where I got down the line, but I cursed the big fins. Yeah, there comes a good time for experimentation, but sometimes it just doesn’t work out. Like going to your favorite restaurant and trying out a different dish. You ever do that? I have, and most of the time I regret not just sticking to the staples: beef chow fun, eggplant with garlic sauce, salt and pepper pork chops. However, if you don’t try, you never know.

THE RETURN TO LOCAL PT.2, SUN 20SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th Street

Time: 0700-0745      

Conditions: 1-2 FT+, glassy, inconsistent

Board: 5’10” Lost Mini Driver

     I had the expectation that surf would be smaller. Well, it wasn’t, it was just more inconsistent. Not sure if it was because of the tide, but the waves were just dumpy. Some longboarders seemed to be doing okay. I had a feeling that the surf would get better on the higher tide, but I didn’t have time for that. Bri and I left after 45 minutes, that’s how lame the session was.

THE RETURN TO LOCAL, SAT 19SEPT2015

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26^th Street

Time: 0620-0800      

Conditions: 1-3 FT, glassy, warm, dumpy

Board: 5’10” Lost Mini Driver

     Can you imagine? I just returned from the Trestles area yesterday, and now I’m sitting in this. Sure, the water’s so fucking clear I can see sand dollars and stingrays. Yes, the water’s so fucking warm and inviting that “I can’t believe it’s like this in September” over and over again. But the wave is dumpy. Two-foot lines just stand up, stretch out, and dump. I miss North Churches.

     There is the occasional corner. I pass up on a solid right because I don’t want to backpaddle Stocky John. He takes it and goes far.

     Bri, holy shit, that Spyder Hopper that Rick had leant her is just too easy for her. She’s riding that thing like the NSP, and she’s hungry, getting way more waves than me. Even the other locals are rubber necking, wondering how she’s getting into so many.

     Second solid wave that I pass on is a left, and the shoulder looks hollow, my kind of small-barrel puss wave that I love so much, but yet, I must back out for Bri.

     I pull in on a few and get some quick glances but no real drive. Just a delayed pinch when I’m engulfed by a liquid bounce house.

     As warm as it is, I’m actually cold. Wagon Week has taken its toll. I’m just plain tired.

     When we go in, we run into Klaude on the sand. Afterwards, Bri and I have breakfast at Mandy’s. Small surf or not, I’m just happy to be home. Wagon Week was fun, but after camping that long it’s just nice to have luxuries again.

     More coffee.

WAGON WEEK PT.5: My Left, FRI 18SEPT2015

Loc: North Churches

Time: 0630-0845      

Conditions: 2-3 FT+, glassy, sunny, warm, consistent, soft

Board: 5’10” Lost Mini Driver

     That morning was supposed to be “the day,” that good south was gonna produce some rippable surf, but again, Churches looked small at first light. I paddled past the top of the wave and stubbornly sat at North Churches by myself. Manny and Jimmy had left. Rick and Garr were packing. My buddy Cassady, who had shown up last night, had to do a social media post on Lowers for his job before paddling out.

     I sat in a lull for about fifteen minutes patiently, and then all of a sudden those motherfuckin’ lefts started coming in. Perfect and peaky, I was getting into position with ample time. No one was out there to challenge me because most were on the right. I was surfing in a vacant no-mans land. Only issue . . . my Mini Driver didn’t feel right. Shit. Just . . . the wave was just too weak for it. Suddenly I missed my Motorboat Too. Though, the speed from the quads did feel nice, but the waves just felt too soft on that board, like I had too much rocker.

     Most of my waves were pumping setups for a solid hack at the end. I attempted a layback on a critical closeout section. If I could have paused that moment when I dropped my wallet, it would’ve looked good, but then I lost it.

     Still though, even though the waves felt soft, it was the best session of the trip. Just fun rippable lefts all to myself. That’s what I come to Trestles for.

     In the distance, I could here the P.A. system from the event. Someone in a pink wetsuit busted an air. I didn’t care.