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.

2017 – 7 & 8 First Trestles Sesh of the Year 14JAN, SAT

I gave my wife the option of risking the high tide or staying local, but really I wanted her to choose local. Of course, I ended up shooting myself in the foot because she said she wanted a beach day down south. “We’ll be gambling against the high tide,” I said. Even though I hinted at staying, I granted her wish. It’s part of being a good husband. You gotta compromise.

We arrived at first light and scored parking in front of Churches. I could tell that the water was swampy and that activity was already slowing down, but the recent rain fall and runoff from the rivermouth still produced some nice rights. Knowing that this would be the first area to get crowded, we pushed it up to North Churches, but it looked too slow. Avoiding any chance of being over invaded, we paddled out at Middle Trestles where only a small pack of 3 guys sat. Unfortunately, 3 guys was all it took to make catching waves challenging. Sitting at the bottom of the point, they had dibs on the first waves to roll through. A few swung wide, and I managed a few turns. My best waves came from being sneaky, paddling under those fellas and scoring when they paddled out too far or scratched out.

Bri had a hard time, and I felt bad for her. Also, me being the asshole that I am, I partly blamed her for being there.

When the tide got too high around 0900, we called the session and hit Denny’s for breakfast. Their value meal is pretty legit. I mean, you can get full off of like 6 to 8 bucks. Not too shabby. By then I was feeling a lot better. Everything was going right. The waiter was cool as fuck, addressed my wife as senora, and Mexican music played from the kitchen; everyone was hustling. We took our time and headed back to Churches.

Parked directly in front of the surf again, we watched the longboarders go to work. The tide begin its swing back down. Nose riders did their showboating. Joel Tudor wannabes lost their boards on the rocks. I smirked at them as I dozed and took a short nap, Bri next to me doing the same.

#

We suited up again at noon. It was time. I figured we catch the tide swing and be in the water as the surf got better for shortboarding. There was a pack at the bottom and the top of Churches, so we literally sat in the middle, which seemed like an inconsistent saddle without much action. Here and there, a left would swing wide, and I actually got a few fun rides, even on the rights. Bri started catching, too, milking the small ones all the way to the inside.

I truthfully expected the crowd to thicken. It had to, especially with the tide going down and the wind still good, but that never happened. Instead, people started to clear out. The top of Churches was completely vacant, so Bri and I paddled there and had it to ourselves with only a few peeps who didn’t get in the way.

The swell size also went down with the tide. The surf was barely 2 to 3 feet, but it was still surfable. I was more picky, waiting for the racy lefts. My best wave was a triple hitter. I had plenty of waves where I just pumped for speed and practiced airs, but I must’ve looked lame because I couldn’t break my fins free. Even though I got a few rights, Bri was the standout, catching waves from the top all the way to where we had initially paddled out. I enjoyed seeing how her surfing has progressed. She’s surfing more top to bottom, stalling on the highline and crouching on the reentry, even throwing her arms forward for style and balancing. On a few waves, I even saw some small pails of water get tossed out the back.

That second sesh lasted about 2 hours and 15 minutes, a total redemption from the morning. We stopped at Sake2Me in Cerritos for AYCE sushi, and then went home. It was the first Saturday off we had together since September, and we made it worth it.

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.

WAGON WEEK PT.4 (double), THU 17SEPT2015

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.

WAGON WEEK PT.3: Evening Glass, WED 16SEPT2015

Loc: Churches

Time: 1545-1900      

Crew: Jimmy, Garr, Rick

Conditions: 2-3 FT, light onshore, sunny, warm, consistent

Board: Motorboat Too

     The Lowers contest was just happening two breaks north. Just as the competitors had been hoping for surf, so were we, but upon waking up, we witnessed two-foot rights rolling through Churches. Foregoing an immediate paddle out, Jimmy, Garr, and I walked to the contest site.

     Middles wasn’t breaking, but, of course, Lowers looked really fun. Three feet and rippable. Gary called out to Pots who was seated above us at the announcers table. It made me nervous. I get star struck; it’s just who I am.                        

     After watching the Lower-Trestles A-frames get ripped up by pros and home-schooled kids, we began to walk back. Gary stopped in his tracks when he spotted Adriano Desouza.

     Instead of waiting, Jimmy and I walked a little further down to watch the surf. Five minutes later, Gary and Adriano were walking on the dirt path right behind us. If we didn’t know who they were, they would’ve looked like two good friends who had known each other their whole lives.

#

     Just like the day before, I returned after sitting on my ass in the library all day. The guys were gone and eating poke in San Clemente, while I suited up to pull a solo sesh.

     The conditions cleaned up, and, surprisingly, there was also a slight increase in the swell. I caught a couple of rights at the bottom of the wave first, and then I made it to the top of the wave where I scored plenty of inside lefts. I was pumping, pulling off some floaters, and trying to get some good carves, but they were mediocre at best.

     Two guys paddled out and sat right on me. Fuck I was so annoyed. And then one of them busted a 360 air reverse and landed it. Shit, I thought. They were good, and that kind of talent means I have no say-so in being overrun.

     When the guys came back, they paddled out further north at the left. Out there together, that’s when the session really got fun. Random lefts would pop up, solid three footers. The rides were long but still a little weak. Regardless, it was the best session I had had since being there.

     That night, Jimmy cooked us potatoes in a soup broth in his pressure cooker. I really wasn’t expecting much. Despite not having meat, the meal was good with just rice alone. The taters were hot and steamy. Another cool night out was thwarted by a hot meal.

Ricky and Jimmy, tearing it up. Never was a paper bowl so appreciated.