CREW: Rick, Michaelson
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0900 - 1100, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Howling off shore winds, some fast corners, close outs on bigger sets, hollow walls, colder than Porto.
Thursday night, Rick called and said he wanted to take me to a secret spot. As a natural tendency, I wanted to follow the path of least resistance. It would have been easier to say, “No, Rick, I’d rather sleep in a little and just stay local.” But how could I? There’s so much of California coast line that I haven’t seen yet, so I opted for the unfamiliar.
The plan was to meet him at a local donut shop at 0500 so we would drive separately from there. I woke up and had my car loaded by 0455. At the last minute he called and said I needed to pick up his friend Michaelson. The change of plans sat uneasy with me. It’s just a thing of principle: it’s not right to make someone else’s plans, especially five minutes before everything’s supposed to kick off. I told Rick that I needed more time to grab more things to prepare for the extra body.
I went back upstairs, grabbed my back pack, and my wetsuit case for me and Michaelson. As I loaded up my car Rick called again. He said we were burning time, so he’d give me directions to Michaelson’s house. I was only minutes behind him when I got to Venice. When I got there I told him that it wasn’t right to obligate me the way he did. He apologized and said he’d make it up to me by fixing my JS board this weekend.
The sky was changing to a dark blue, cars were parked in front of homes in their cold slumber, and Washington Blvd. was deserted under the hazy orange street lamps. Michaelson was still wiping the sleep from his eyes when I grabbed all his gear and threw it in the back of my car. Something was missing; I couldn’t find my backpack. I searched every crevice of my wagon, then the feeling of emptiness sunk within me when I realized that I probably left it right where my car was parked.
There was an urgent change of plans, we cross loaded Michaelson’s stuff into Rick’s truck, and I started the mad dash back to the Gundo. My car smelled like burning brakes when I got there. And there my bag was: next to the tree, out in the open, full with my personal belongings, and unmolested. I got back on the 405 N, then the 10 E, and then the 1 N. I was a little behind those guys, but not by much. It was a tranquil drive after that, and the thought of surfing somewhere new filled me with anticipation. It was a long time since I seen Santa Monica in the early morning. The different colored lights in the darkness looked like Christmas never left. If there are any images that screams out, California, then the Santa Monica coastline is definitely one of them.
Things didn’t go that smooth once we reached our destination. There was a long line of cars to get to the spot, and some paperwork had to be filled out. By the time we got through security it was almost 0700. The surf spot was only occupied by two fishermen. The wind was side shore, the shape was clean, but it was a south facing break. There wasn’t much south swell, so the waves were about thigh high. We stopped at the local store, grabbed some snacks, filled up gas, and made a shit stop for Michaelson. Rick said our best bet was to check out Oxnard to get some of the NW swell.
We arrived at Silver Strand, home surf break to Tim Curren. I’ve seen the place on surf porn, but never in person. The vibe seemed a little localized. Their parking lot was tiny, but there were no meters. Off the south side of the pier was the best looking peak that I’ve ever seen in Cali thus far. There was size, about head high, and the peak was so clean that symmetrical shoulders built on each side. Of course, that’s where all the locals were, so it was crowded. There were some smaller peaks more south, but they were totally eclipsed by the main one off of the pier.
Rick drew us into a huddle as he started to whisper. He knew off another spot where we would get the same swell direction with less people. It was 0845 when we got there. It was considerably smaller, fairly consistent, the off shores were still blowing, and there were only two surfers out. Finally, we slipped our cocks into our wetsuits to start our surf session.
Being further up north, the water was a bit colder. Rick and I timed it right and paddled out pretty fast. The current was pulling north, but I maintained and stuck to our spot. We were in between two peaks. Within the first fifteen minutes Rick already caught at least four waves. I caught two that didn’t hold shape. The waves were a little racy, and the plus sets were walled. Michaelson paddled out as a set came in, got worked on the inside, and got sucked north by the current. When he caught up to us I got my wave of the day. It was a chest high left. I was surprised that it opened up. The shoulder almost cascaded away, but I trimmed and stayed away from the foam to meet the open section. I was going top to bottom until I stalled out on my attempted cut back and fell. I resurfaced and gained eye contact with Mike. I held up my index finger to signal that I got “one” good one.
The wind picked up fast, and next thing we knew, it was howling on our backs. Every time we paddled, water sprayed into our faces. Every wave shot out so much mist from the wind that it stung when it hit our skin. Popping up on waves became more difficult with the salt water jizzing all over our faces. I got caught on the inside after I got a dumpster. When I resurfaced I saw Rick go kamikaze on a hollow wall and get semi barreled before the whole thing chomped down on him. What balls, I thought. I used to go for anything, but now … I am trying to get more out of my rides, so I’m picky as hell.
There was this one guy to our south that was getting some clean barrels and long rides. I couldn’t understand why no waves like that came to me. If they did, I sure as hell couldn’t tell. Michaelson got a lot more waves than I did, and the wait for a clean ride seemed to take longer and longer. I missed out on a perfect right. A peak came towards me and that other guy next to us. I wasn’t sure if he was going to go left so I could take the right. I stalled too long to see where he was going. He did go the opposite way, but it was too late, and my wave had left me.
Cold, wind chilled, and weakened from paddling, we called our session after two hours. On the drive home Michaelson pointed out all the different breaks to me along PCH. I was glad that he was there. Until then I barely had the time to talk to him, and now I could see that he’d be a good surf buddy. I promised him to take him to Del Mar next time.
The conditions weren’t phenomenal, but I’m still glad I went. If I didn’t, I would’ve been stuck looking at Rick’s pictures of the places he goes to. After that weekend, my backyard is now a little bigger.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
EL PORTO SURF OXYMORON: TUE 2.8.2011 MOR
CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0830 - 0945, 1 hr. & 15 min.
CONDITIONS: Light offshore winds, scattered peaks, four foot waves, breaking really late, long wait for good sets, low to mid tide.
I didn’t surf Monday because I have been behind in my school work. I have actually been experimenting with how much I can surf while still getting my homework done. Well, since I’ve fell behind in my work, I now have to surf less.
Things still haven’t been the same since I went to Trestles. I woke up this morning with no expectation of good waves. How sad is that? There was a time when I used to froth for Porto. There was no such thing as a bad morning session; that used to be my attitude. Is it natural that as one progresses, an expected demand for good waves will follow? At least that’s what I think I’m going through. Good waves or not, I had to stay local this morning.
The tide has shifted to being low around first light, so I decided to check it out a little bit later. I drove to Porto first and liked what I saw. There seemed to be consistent scattered peaks rolling in, but I had to see what 26th was doing, especially since Christina got that good sesh on Saturday. I got free parking on 27th and watched it as I smeared my face with sunblock. It looked a little bit smaller and breaking closer to shore. Porto would be the call.
I gave up my free parking space and headed over. I parked next to this older Asian guy I always see, and this younger guy that I got a photo of, on a left in front of the tanks, a couple days ago. I talked to the older guy, and he was gonna feed the meter to surf longer. I found a channel by the tanks and paddled out over there. The current was pulling south for a change, and before I knew it I was in front of 45th paddling to hold my position. It looked really good from the shore, but once I got out there it was a long ass wait. I can’t recall all of the waves that I got; all I know is that I got one really good left.
Today’s waves were breaking weird. There were a lot of peaks, but they didn’t form steep enough to paddle into, at least not until they reached too close to the shore. Randomly, some ready to ride peaks would show up. I got a left hander. It was a well defined peak that was part of a closely spaced set. I popped up, trimmed, pumped, top turned, stalled on the cut back, recovered, and pumped all the way until the shoulder crumbled. I fancied attempting an air, but my board didn’t even leave the water; I’m not ready yet. I’ve realized that I usually do the same thing on lefts as described above. My problem right now is stalling on my cut backs. I have a feeling that I am stopping my turn too soon, and I really need to focus on continuing the turning motion until I’m going the other direction. In time, in time. My other waves I need not mention. I saw that younger guy from the parking lot getting wave after wave on his long board. I didn’t hate him, but it made me feel more frustrated. I reached an epiphany that it makes no sense being in the water for a couple hours if I only get a couple good waves. What a waste of time. I need to start surfing where there are more waves with good shape. For example, at Trestles there is the potential of getting as many good rides in a quarter of the time that it takes at Porto. What I’m saying is, I need to use my time more wisely, or else it’s really going to take longer to progress.
I have been watching out for my wetsuit hygiene after my recent scare of having a skin infection. That’s another reason why I didn’t surf on Monday. Thank goodness the school nurse just said those were pimples on my back and not sores. I didn’t piss in my wetsuit, and when I came home I rinsed the hell out of it; I let it soak for a while.
Today was the second meeting at my college for the surf club, which unfortunately holds its meetings during my class time. I am not sure if I will be joining the club because I will have to do my intro at the first event versus having already met everyone. I will basically be a new face being seen for the first time, and I won’t know anyone except for the guy that had the clipboard when I signed up. We will see what happens. For now, homework has to be the priority, as sad as that sounds. However, Fridays … I will drive a long distance for surf, good surf.
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0830 - 0945, 1 hr. & 15 min.
CONDITIONS: Light offshore winds, scattered peaks, four foot waves, breaking really late, long wait for good sets, low to mid tide.
I didn’t surf Monday because I have been behind in my school work. I have actually been experimenting with how much I can surf while still getting my homework done. Well, since I’ve fell behind in my work, I now have to surf less.
Things still haven’t been the same since I went to Trestles. I woke up this morning with no expectation of good waves. How sad is that? There was a time when I used to froth for Porto. There was no such thing as a bad morning session; that used to be my attitude. Is it natural that as one progresses, an expected demand for good waves will follow? At least that’s what I think I’m going through. Good waves or not, I had to stay local this morning.
The tide has shifted to being low around first light, so I decided to check it out a little bit later. I drove to Porto first and liked what I saw. There seemed to be consistent scattered peaks rolling in, but I had to see what 26th was doing, especially since Christina got that good sesh on Saturday. I got free parking on 27th and watched it as I smeared my face with sunblock. It looked a little bit smaller and breaking closer to shore. Porto would be the call.
I gave up my free parking space and headed over. I parked next to this older Asian guy I always see, and this younger guy that I got a photo of, on a left in front of the tanks, a couple days ago. I talked to the older guy, and he was gonna feed the meter to surf longer. I found a channel by the tanks and paddled out over there. The current was pulling south for a change, and before I knew it I was in front of 45th paddling to hold my position. It looked really good from the shore, but once I got out there it was a long ass wait. I can’t recall all of the waves that I got; all I know is that I got one really good left.
Today’s waves were breaking weird. There were a lot of peaks, but they didn’t form steep enough to paddle into, at least not until they reached too close to the shore. Randomly, some ready to ride peaks would show up. I got a left hander. It was a well defined peak that was part of a closely spaced set. I popped up, trimmed, pumped, top turned, stalled on the cut back, recovered, and pumped all the way until the shoulder crumbled. I fancied attempting an air, but my board didn’t even leave the water; I’m not ready yet. I’ve realized that I usually do the same thing on lefts as described above. My problem right now is stalling on my cut backs. I have a feeling that I am stopping my turn too soon, and I really need to focus on continuing the turning motion until I’m going the other direction. In time, in time. My other waves I need not mention. I saw that younger guy from the parking lot getting wave after wave on his long board. I didn’t hate him, but it made me feel more frustrated. I reached an epiphany that it makes no sense being in the water for a couple hours if I only get a couple good waves. What a waste of time. I need to start surfing where there are more waves with good shape. For example, at Trestles there is the potential of getting as many good rides in a quarter of the time that it takes at Porto. What I’m saying is, I need to use my time more wisely, or else it’s really going to take longer to progress.
I have been watching out for my wetsuit hygiene after my recent scare of having a skin infection. That’s another reason why I didn’t surf on Monday. Thank goodness the school nurse just said those were pimples on my back and not sores. I didn’t piss in my wetsuit, and when I came home I rinsed the hell out of it; I let it soak for a while.
Today was the second meeting at my college for the surf club, which unfortunately holds its meetings during my class time. I am not sure if I will be joining the club because I will have to do my intro at the first event versus having already met everyone. I will basically be a new face being seen for the first time, and I won’t know anyone except for the guy that had the clipboard when I signed up. We will see what happens. For now, homework has to be the priority, as sad as that sounds. However, Fridays … I will drive a long distance for surf, good surf.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
K-DOUBLE RELOADED: SUN 2.6.2011 MOR
CREW: Klaude, Christina, Jon, Shan, Klaude’s pops.
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0645 - 0845, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Light offshore winds, started off a little punchy at mid tide, then it got soft and weak when the tide got higher. Scattered peaks, a little walled on the bigger sets, better shape on the smaller inside waves. FOGGY!
Jon hit me up yesterday and said he wanted to surf, but that he needed to be home by 0900. He said he needed to borrow the Becker board. I woke up at 0545, took a fat ass shit, and loaded everything up. It was 55 degrees out. Better than being in the 40s, I thought. When I pulled up to Jon’s, he text me to let me know he had to take a shit, too. Two old buddies headed out to Park’s Beach, bowels empty.
Today’s session was to be a special one. Klaude, AKA Klaude Tha Rodd, AKA K-Double was going to paddle out for the first time since his shoulder injury. He’s been on the sidelines for a long time: taking photos, being our man-cheerleader, showing up to motivate us, and to just hang out. I know I had a hard time in Iraq, and I’m sure watching waves roll by in plain sight, without being able to ride them, must have been hard. He’s frothed long enough, and today he would be reborn again.
Jon and I paddled out right in front of the 26th St. tower at 0645. Jon commented that the waves looked the right size for him, since he hasn’t surfed in a while. There were two peaks working on both sides of the towers, and only two guys were out. I need to find out who that old dude is that rips out there. Well, not old, but he’s older. He’s dark like me, has long hair, and he rides a neon colored board; he shreds. The paddle out was easy, but there were some close outs from the bigger sets. I was ecstatic to be out there. Since my staycation at Trestles I’ve been frothing for any waves with shape. My first wave was a close out, and I wiped out on the next two. It was almost 0700, there was no sign of Klaude yet, and we were expecting them. Jon kept on asking where they were, and I told him they should be there soon. I finally got a decent left. I pumped my board and set up for a good top turn. I tried to cut back, but I stalled when I tried to redirect my board back to the shoulder. The waves had good shape, but they got a little weak towards the inside. I got a right, pulled off a hack, and then I started to bog out. I walked up to the nose to reenter, but I slipped. I have been telling myself that I need to wax the whole board. I might as well since I usually walk the length, anyway. My best wave was another right that came. I hit the lip twice, but I fell after the last one. As I was paddling back to the line I saw Jon going backside on a little left. I gave him the thumbs up.
He was drifting pretty far south; there was a little current today. I said, “You’re drifting!”
Jon replied, “I know!”
I figured he meant he wasn’t going to paddle back. The waves were better by 26th, I needed the paddle training, the rest of the DRC would be showing up soon, and I wanted to be where they expected us. Pretty soon the fog moved in, and I couldn’t see the shore anymore. I guessed where I was at and continued to fight the current. I got a couple more waves, but none better than the first part of the session. It was about 0820 when I saw Shan paddling towards me to hit the lineup for the first time. He told me that Jon was on the shore, and that everyone else was about to paddle in. A peak came, I went right, Shan went left, and he took it all the way to shore. I got a close out. By 0830 I saw Klaude and Christina. I told Klaude that I had to leave in about ten minutes. He said that his dad decided to come out at the last minute.
By the time they arrived I was already frustrated. Klaude told me that Jon told him his foot hurt, he was cold, and he wished he had the keys to my car because he was cold. Oh well … injuries are a bitch, I guess. I was desperate for a good wave, and I was scratching out a lot. I heard Shan’s “WOOHOO!” When I turned to look I saw him catch a wave all the way in again. Fuck me, I thought. I was jealous. Klaude scratched out on a couple as he tried to get his first wave. I was trying to catch my last one. A perfect left came. Klaude had the shoulder, I was on his outside, and I backed off so he could have it, but he scratched out, then I did, too. I was so mad to see that wave go by unridden. I was further demoralized.
A little bump in the surface came through, and I didn’t recognize that it was ridable, but one of us did. I saw Klaude paddle for it, and then it looked like he got hung up on the lip. I expected him to bog out, but he got (what looked like) a late reentry, and he trimmed his way for a long ride as he disappeared into the fog. I saw the look on his face when he came back; I could tell it was an emotional moment for him. He gazed out into the horizon with a stoked frozen grin.
Christina let out a joyous “Awwwwwww.”
I don’t know what went through his mind, but it looked like that wave breathed life back into him. He splashed the water around him, other surfers were caught off guard, and Christina and I congratulated him. Klaude remained in the moment, and we were all happy for him. I still had a dilemma of my own. I finally got a right, but I think I ate shit again. FUCK. Jon was on the sand waiting, and it was time to go.
I wish I could’ve enjoyed more time in the water with everyone, especially Klaude, but I’m happy I got to see him catch his first wave. We’ve missed his presence and stoke in the water for a long time, and now we can join him in his redemption. I let Jon hold on to my Becker. I’m not sure if his foot injuries are going to allow him to surf or not. And after the session Lauren noticed a sore on my upper back and one by my neck. I’m not a doctor, but I’m sure that my dirty wetsuits, skipping out on showers, and the non stop surfing has finally taken it’s toll. Tonight I bought wetsuit shampoo, cleaned them, and tomorrow I’m seeing the doctor. I’ll be out of the water for a little while. Two soldiers fall, one rises.
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0645 - 0845, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Light offshore winds, started off a little punchy at mid tide, then it got soft and weak when the tide got higher. Scattered peaks, a little walled on the bigger sets, better shape on the smaller inside waves. FOGGY!
Jon hit me up yesterday and said he wanted to surf, but that he needed to be home by 0900. He said he needed to borrow the Becker board. I woke up at 0545, took a fat ass shit, and loaded everything up. It was 55 degrees out. Better than being in the 40s, I thought. When I pulled up to Jon’s, he text me to let me know he had to take a shit, too. Two old buddies headed out to Park’s Beach, bowels empty.
Today’s session was to be a special one. Klaude, AKA Klaude Tha Rodd, AKA K-Double was going to paddle out for the first time since his shoulder injury. He’s been on the sidelines for a long time: taking photos, being our man-cheerleader, showing up to motivate us, and to just hang out. I know I had a hard time in Iraq, and I’m sure watching waves roll by in plain sight, without being able to ride them, must have been hard. He’s frothed long enough, and today he would be reborn again.
Jon and I paddled out right in front of the 26th St. tower at 0645. Jon commented that the waves looked the right size for him, since he hasn’t surfed in a while. There were two peaks working on both sides of the towers, and only two guys were out. I need to find out who that old dude is that rips out there. Well, not old, but he’s older. He’s dark like me, has long hair, and he rides a neon colored board; he shreds. The paddle out was easy, but there were some close outs from the bigger sets. I was ecstatic to be out there. Since my staycation at Trestles I’ve been frothing for any waves with shape. My first wave was a close out, and I wiped out on the next two. It was almost 0700, there was no sign of Klaude yet, and we were expecting them. Jon kept on asking where they were, and I told him they should be there soon. I finally got a decent left. I pumped my board and set up for a good top turn. I tried to cut back, but I stalled when I tried to redirect my board back to the shoulder. The waves had good shape, but they got a little weak towards the inside. I got a right, pulled off a hack, and then I started to bog out. I walked up to the nose to reenter, but I slipped. I have been telling myself that I need to wax the whole board. I might as well since I usually walk the length, anyway. My best wave was another right that came. I hit the lip twice, but I fell after the last one. As I was paddling back to the line I saw Jon going backside on a little left. I gave him the thumbs up.
He was drifting pretty far south; there was a little current today. I said, “You’re drifting!”
Jon replied, “I know!”
I figured he meant he wasn’t going to paddle back. The waves were better by 26th, I needed the paddle training, the rest of the DRC would be showing up soon, and I wanted to be where they expected us. Pretty soon the fog moved in, and I couldn’t see the shore anymore. I guessed where I was at and continued to fight the current. I got a couple more waves, but none better than the first part of the session. It was about 0820 when I saw Shan paddling towards me to hit the lineup for the first time. He told me that Jon was on the shore, and that everyone else was about to paddle in. A peak came, I went right, Shan went left, and he took it all the way to shore. I got a close out. By 0830 I saw Klaude and Christina. I told Klaude that I had to leave in about ten minutes. He said that his dad decided to come out at the last minute.
By the time they arrived I was already frustrated. Klaude told me that Jon told him his foot hurt, he was cold, and he wished he had the keys to my car because he was cold. Oh well … injuries are a bitch, I guess. I was desperate for a good wave, and I was scratching out a lot. I heard Shan’s “WOOHOO!” When I turned to look I saw him catch a wave all the way in again. Fuck me, I thought. I was jealous. Klaude scratched out on a couple as he tried to get his first wave. I was trying to catch my last one. A perfect left came. Klaude had the shoulder, I was on his outside, and I backed off so he could have it, but he scratched out, then I did, too. I was so mad to see that wave go by unridden. I was further demoralized.
A little bump in the surface came through, and I didn’t recognize that it was ridable, but one of us did. I saw Klaude paddle for it, and then it looked like he got hung up on the lip. I expected him to bog out, but he got (what looked like) a late reentry, and he trimmed his way for a long ride as he disappeared into the fog. I saw the look on his face when he came back; I could tell it was an emotional moment for him. He gazed out into the horizon with a stoked frozen grin.
Christina let out a joyous “Awwwwwww.”
I don’t know what went through his mind, but it looked like that wave breathed life back into him. He splashed the water around him, other surfers were caught off guard, and Christina and I congratulated him. Klaude remained in the moment, and we were all happy for him. I still had a dilemma of my own. I finally got a right, but I think I ate shit again. FUCK. Jon was on the sand waiting, and it was time to go.
I wish I could’ve enjoyed more time in the water with everyone, especially Klaude, but I’m happy I got to see him catch his first wave. We’ve missed his presence and stoke in the water for a long time, and now we can join him in his redemption. I let Jon hold on to my Becker. I’m not sure if his foot injuries are going to allow him to surf or not. And after the session Lauren noticed a sore on my upper back and one by my neck. I’m not a doctor, but I’m sure that my dirty wetsuits, skipping out on showers, and the non stop surfing has finally taken it’s toll. Tonight I bought wetsuit shampoo, cleaned them, and tomorrow I’m seeing the doctor. I’ll be out of the water for a little while. Two soldiers fall, one rises.
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