TRESTLES: PATIENCE, FRI 3.18.2011 MOR

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0820 - 1120, 3 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Clear skies, light offshore wind, high tide, no current, three feet, inconsistent, long lulls, mostly rights, excellent shape.

    I could barely sleep the night before. I made sure to pack everything for the morning: food, boards, wetsuit, wax, towel, etc. I sent out a mass invite, but no one was able to go on the trip. I couldn’t blame them; not everyone has their Fridays free, and I should consider myself fortunate. At 0445 my alarm clock went off; I only slept for about three and a half hours, but it was enough for me. I was up to my neck in homework, and I studied really hard up until Thursday night. I did all that to have Friday free, free from the thought of anything not relating to surf.

    As I ate my breakfast I went through my surf porn collection to get me pumped for the day. I thumbed through Modern Collective, Innsersections, Sons of Sickness, and Blue Horizon. I thought I’d watch Andy in his prime in the darkness of the early morn. I’m not sure if I got the effect that I hoped for, but I ended up being saddened watching Andy on my TV screen. Reality hit, again, that the surf community suffered a great loss with his passing. In my somber mood, I stumbled into the morning darkness with two boards, a cooler, and a large backpack. Walking up to my car, I noticed that the full moon was shining over the top of my street. I’ve never seen the moon that full and round before. It was 0530. I was glad that I started the trip on time and that I was way ahead of the sun.

    The freeway lights were a pinkish orange. Cars slightly swerved in their lanes, paralleling the tired state of their drivers. I was listening to The War on Drugs on Pandora. It’s a hippy/rock genre that was perfect for the drive. I was so stressed during the week. Finally, I had a moment to get some clarity, a moment to get centered.

    I pulled into San Onofre and took a look at Old Man’s. I wasn’t too impressed. It was about 0640, the sun wasn’t over the mountains yet, it was just above fifty degrees, the winds were howling off shore, and the surf was barely three feet. There were only a couple guys out; I beat the main rush to hit the beach. I parked as close as I could to Churches and changed. I wasn’t sure what to think at first, but the surf was a lot smaller than what I hoped. A couple people were out surfing over there, but I opted to make the walk to Trestles to see if it was better.


 

    As I left the first point at Churches a perfect three foot left peeled away right in front of me--no one was on the wave. As much as I wanted to just paddle out right there, I kept moving. Nothing was happening at Middles.

    As I entered Lowers the tide was so high that I had to walk through thigh deep water. Once I got to the Cristianitos trail, I realized that I didn’t need to venture any further. The swell direction wasn’t doing anything for Lowers.

    On my way back towards Middles the first wave of surfers was approaching. I looked for a peak. I saw some waves breaking at the point between Lowers and Middles, but I wanted to find something better. I ended up paddling out where I saw that first left at the end of Churches.

    I stashed my sandals and paddled out north of three long boarders. The wind died down a little bit, and the water was glassy. The sun’s reflection gave the surface a golden and honeylike appearance. There was a film on the water, but not the kind in the South Bay, it was a good film. The lull was forever. The dedicated early morning risers took hold of the main Churches’ peak; I was north of them. I saw longboarders getting waves over there, and I was sitting, waiting for leftovers. I random right finally came in. The wave was a clean three footer with only a couple ripples giving it minimum texture. Thanks to the JS board, I had more than enough volume to paddle into it early. The wave was worth the wait. What I love about the San Onofre and Trestles area is that the waves are so user friendly. You’d have to be an idiot to not be able to catch any of those waves. There’s no “pitch” on the wave’s lip; it’s so gradual and gentle, and the face holds shape so well to allow you to get your turns and carves in. As I glanced over my shoulder the wave looked at least four feet, but in reality it was probably barely over three. I bottom turned, transitioned into a nice arching top turn, did it again, and stalled on the third top turn. I wish I could see my spray. I know I’m not throwing buckets, but I’m sure I’m throwing some water out the back. My first wave of the day was so clean. I kicked out without getting my hair wet. In fact, for the first hour my hair didn’t get wet; that’s a record.

    The three longboarders next to me paddled to my north. They were getting some waves, and I had such a long lull that I had to paddle all the way to Middles. The first wave of surfers that I ran into was hogging the point that connected to Lowers. I hung out just south of them to get some random sets. It was weird. No one was talking, but there were at least a dozen bodies out there. Everyone was in close proximity, no eye contact, no talking, but the personal agenda was clear. We were all there to get a wave, not to make friends.

    The lulls were killing me. I was unhappy, and I thought that the morning session would be a bust, but things got more consistent into the second hour. The point produced a peak out of no where. The waves would just jack up after hitting the shelf. I saw guys catching tiny waves that didn’t look possible to paddle into. Despite the long waits, every time I got a wave it had shape. There wasn’t one bad wave out there. I lost count at five and didn’t find it necessary to keep track any more. The most I got was three turns on a wave, but for me that’s a lot. I sat far on the outside and got a couple waves as they were cloud breaking. The white wash pushed me into the wave while I was still on my belly, and I only popped up as I slid into the face. There’s no need for me to describe the ride, just go back to the first wave that I described; they were all like that. Again, like I said, the waits were long, but they were worth it. I can’t put enough value on a wave that actually holds and lets you turn. The South Bay hasn’t been very giving lately. One day in Trestles is worth more than a week full of close outs in the South Bay.

    Half way through the third hour I was shivering. Both of my wetsuits are riddled with little pin holes; I hope I can hold out until it gets warm. I pressed on until 1120 because I wanted to do at least a solid three hours for my morning sesh. I caught my last wave in and walked back to my sandals. Round one complete.


   
   

  

THE LITTLE HB WAVE THAT COULD … KICK YOUR ASS: SUN 3.13.2011 MOR

CREW: Klaude
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Wendell
TIME: 0945 - 1045, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Clear skies, no wind, mid to low tide, no current, waist high, occasional chest high sets, some hollow, fast, pitchy waves.

 Saturday night Klaude called me and suggested that we go to PV instead of Parks. I was a little apprehensive, initially, because I’ve heard bad things about PV; even Rick has told me he’s had bad experiences at PV. But I knew that new surf spots don’t get discovered with that attitude, so I obliged. The plan was for me to load up in his van by 0630.

 I had a restless night. I had--what I thought was--two cups of weakly brewed coffee. I drank them late at night because I wanted to stay awake to write Saturday’s surf entry. I lost a couple hours laying down, staring at the ceiling pumped on caffeine, and I lost an additional hour because of the time change. I woke up at 0600 with barely two hours of sleep. I ate, packed, and staged my gear outside my door. 0630 came around, and there was no sign of Klaude. I called him, and when he picked up he sounded groggy as hell. He said he was doing his yoga stretches and that he’d be here by 0700. I brought all of my shit back inside the house, and then I watched TV to kill some time because I couldn’t fall back asleep. At 0713 I was staring at my watch. I’m usually pretty punctual about getting in the water early, and I was past my usual start time. I was about to tell Klaude that I was just going to head out to 26th because I had been awake since 0600, but Rick called and told me that Porto looked like shit, so I couldn’t surf local. Klaude arrived at exactly 0715 just as I was about to call him.

 We cruised down PCH and made our way to The Cove. I’ve never surfed PV before, and it was a breathtaking morning view. The sky was gray, overcast, and the water looked ice cold. There were about fifteen surfers out. We could see the lines of waves for a couple miles, but there was one problem: they weren’t breaking well. We watched some longboarders drop in and go straight, or the waves broke too late, closer to the shore. After further deliberation, we decided to use my brother’s state pass to surf HB.
 We got back to El Segundo, cross loaded our gear, and headed out on the 405S. Even though Randy’s in Bali, we thanked him for handing down his parking pass. I looked forward to showing Klaude another new spot, especially a spot that my brother turned me on to. There were a lot of surfers parked along the coast, which was a good sign for surf. When we reached our parking spot I saw Randy’s friend Wendell pull up. I said hi and introduced him and Klaude to each other. It was another adventure, two days in a row of escaping from LA.

 We took a familiar walk out to the water, a walk that my brother and I used to take. I thought about my brother and how much I missed him. Before I paddle out I always say a little ritualistic prayer: one for me, one for the other surfers around me, and one for my brother when he’s surfing in Bali.
 I told Klaude how I’ve rarely seen a bad day of surf in HB. I recalled the last session that Randy and I had there; it was too small. Other than that, HB has never let us down. Sunday morning wasn’t big. It wasn’t getting much of the WNW swell, but it was still clean, and there was shape. Unfortunately, since we were there late, the water was getting a little shallow, but we saw a couple good peaks with little three foot A-frames rolling through.

 Klaude stretched while I hurried to get out there. I forgot how much that spot grew on me, and I was comfortable being back. It was an easy paddle out, as there were long lulls in between the sets. It was more crowded than usual but not as crowded as Manhattan Beach or Trestles. My first wave was a right, but I wasn’t able to pull off any turns before it closed out. Just as I resurfaced, Klaude had just got to the line. I told him that HB has some high performance surfers, and that I usually stay away from the crowd, especially since I don’t have Randy around anymore. A bump started to form on the surface, and before he knew it a peaky left was fast approaching. From my perception it was like slow motion, but I could tell that Klaude was paddling into the wave too late. I saw the thing jack up and start to pitch just as he tried to pop up; he disappeared in the fast, exploding, and throwing lip. During the drive there we talked about how HB is a different wave, and I shared my description how HB’s waves are more “pitchy.” That morning was no different.

 Klaude wasn’t the only one. You have to pop up fast at HB, faster than any other spot that I’ve been to, yet. I got thrown by the lip a couple of times, but after that I backed-out when I knew I couldn’t make it. I saw Klaude eat it on a couple. I had the view from behind the wave. He’d paddle, disappear, then his fish would go flying in the air. We both had a frustrating time. The funny thing is that we still saw guys ripping, getting mini barrels, airs, etc. It wasn’t the conditions at fault; it was us.

 More people ended up in our area, and we pretty much let them have the waves. They were locals, they knew that wave, and it was obvious that we weren’t shredding. As the morning went on, the tide got lower, and the onshore wind picked up just a little bit. By the end of the session the lulls were longer, the peaks weren’t as defined. Rogue sets randomly popped up. Klaude and I got walloped by a couple chest high waves. They weren’t even that big. The waves were pretty small, but they had some speed and power behind them. Combined with the shallow water, it only added to their strength.

 Before we left I saw Klaude get a couple clean rides, and I managed to get two rights that I got to hack the lip on. It bothers me that I still can’t get good spray on my front side.

 It wasn’t a phenomenal session, but we both appreciated that it was still better than the South Bay. Even though we didn’t do well, we still had fun, and we both knew that the trip was worth it. HB has always served as a reality check for me. I can appreciate guys like my brother and the locals that surf there; they mastered that wave. We still have a long way to go. Just thinking about it now, though … I can’t wait to go back. I do love that spot, it’s such a great alternative to Porto, and it’s good when I can’t make the drive further down south.

DAIS‘S AND KLAUDE‘S FIRST TIME AT TRESTLES: SAT 3.12.2011 MOR

CREW: Klaude and Dais
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0800 - 1015, 2 hr. & 15 min.
CONDITIONS: Offshore winds, which switched to side shore, and then offshore. Sunny, slightly cool water, clean, chest high shoulders, crowded, and deteriorating conditions towards the end of the session.
 Today was the day that I was looking forward to all week: the weekly surf trip down south. I missed out last weekend because of work, so today was the day to capitalize on some good surf.

 I checked out El Porto yesterday evening to see what the incoming swell looked like. The initial pulses were overhead and closed out--typical. Anyone familiar with the South Bay had to expect closeouts for this weekend’s swell. Despite some recommendations to go north for the weekend, I already had my heart set on going to my favorite surf spot: Middles.

 Rick was the only taker that I had to go on the trip with, but later that day he told me that he had to stick to HB. I talked to Klaude the night before, and he said that he already made a commitment to surf with Dais, but he said that there was a small chance that they’d meet me in El Segundo in the morning. I told him that the train would be leaving at 0545, and if they showed up they were more than welcomed to come aboard.

 Last night was filled with anticipation. I got my JS back from Rick, put on nose guards for my boards, and even bought some Vertra sun block sticks. I had Innersections playing in the background as I got all my gear prepped for the morning. I went to bed at 0100, and I was up eating breakfast at 0500.

 As I packed my lunch, Gary (Rick’s WHC homie) called me and said that they were heading to Del Mar. I told them that I’d change my plans to meet them there. I headed out to my car with my first load of gear. I saw a van approaching. It was Klaude and Dais fully packed and ready to go.

 It was going to be a tight fit, but we actually fit five surfboards, all of our gear, and three of us in my wagon. Damn I love my wagon! The sky was already changing to a light blue, but none-the-less, we still made our start-point time and were on the road before 0600. I thanked the guys for showing up. Even though I would’ve made the trip on my own, I was happy to share the experience with two of my fellow stoked surfer buddies. We listened to some electronic as we shot the shit and enjoyed the normal conventions of a road trip.

 Rick gave us a courtesy surf report, and unfortunately, Del Mar did not look too good. I told Rick that we’d surf with him another day, and I made the call to go to Trestles, as I’ve never had a bad day there, yet. I gave Dais his initial tour of San Onofre as we made our way through the base. We stopped to look at Old Mans first. There were clean, two to three foot waves rolling through, but the scattered peaks were infested with longboarders (the norm). We parked as close as we could to Churches. The peaks there were nice and clean … and crowded. I told them that we’d walk north and head to Middles to get away from everyone.

 I pulled out the JS which has been out of service since its gruesome injury. Its deck was bare, so I had to take some time to apply some base coat and wax. We set out on foot close to 0730 if my memory serves me right. It was a long walk, but I enjoyed it, and I was glad to introduce the guys to Trestles for the first time. Klaude had to take a piss, but he refused to use the porta-potty. He pissed in his wetsuit, and I followed suit. We started our venture with piss dripping from our crotches in the warm morning sun.

 We watched the perfectly shaped shoulders at their primary and well known spots. We reached Middles, the spot where I scored last time. The only thing was that it didn’t look as good. I suggested that we paddle out, and Klaude replied with, “Right here?” I gave them the option to make the trek to Lowers or Uppers if they wanted to gamble. A wise choice, Dais said we should go up further.

 As we approached the end of the trail from Cristianitos Road, we saw the masses of surfers in the water and on the sand. The whole time I tried to eye for a lone peak, but before we knew it we were at the end of Lowers, still facing a thick crowd. The path ahead didn’t have many waves, so we decided to paddle out at Uppers.

 The fellas were nice and warmed up. I was antsy to get wet, so I paddled straight out after stashing my belongings. I hate crowds, and I approached the line up with a defensive mind set. I expected agro energy, getting dropped in on, frustration, and all the possibilities of some kind of confrontation. But surfing just north of Lowers, the only option was to be immersed in the pack.

 It was weird being on the JS. The DMS is a bit smaller in dimensions, but this time I really noticed how much bigger the JS is. It was harder to duck dive, and it felt a lot thicker under me. It felt awkward being on it again, but I knew that I needed it. We arrived and perched in the hornet’s nest of surfers. I hid my feelings from Dais and Klaude, so as to not spread my negative energy. Surprisingly, Klaude not only got the first wave, but he got it with ease amongst the surf gauntlet. As soon as Klaude got back, Dais snaked him on a fun little right. It was funny watching it from behind the line. I saw that Klaude had the inside, but Dais’s long hair raced ahead of him to the open shoulder.

 They were handling the crowded situation a lot better than me while I was getting frustrated, still needing my first wave. I puffed my cheeks and tried to get more aggressive. I sat on the outside and saw a bump in the surface. I raced ahead to catch a right, but it was already breaking when I paddled into it. The speed from the white wash propelled me a bit fast, and by the time I popped up, my rail shot me up the wave and out the back. It was a nice wave and a perfect set up for a good top turn. Catching that wave late had my body going too fast for my mind, and I ended up being stuck on my board.

 The guys knew I was getting frustrated, and they hooted and hollered for me every time a wave came my way. They are good friends, indeed. While going through my own struggles I saw Dais get some good rides, but Klaude was definitely the DRC surfer of the day. He ended up paddling south to Lowers, mixed in with the crowd, and got even more rides over there. I caught one decent right where I got a little top turn. I also caught a left that had an open face, but I really struggled to get a hack going front side. I tried to throw my rear shoulder into the turns, but I forgot to put more emphasis on my tail placement. Dais and I struggled in the white water for a little bit. I did notice that catching waves is easier on the JS, but I did miss the ability to cut through waves on the inside that my DMS gave me.

 About two hours had passed, and the water had changed a lot: the winds turned onshore, it was choppy, and the peaks got a little jumbled and lost their definition. Either way, the cobblestone bottom provided better peaks than any South Bay beach break. I told Dais that I was gonna get Klaude and let him know we were changing locations. Dais said, “Yeah, I’m losing my stoke.” Ironically, just as he said that, a plus-set wave came his way, and he paddled into it for a long ride. I said the same thing out loud to myself, but nothing happened.

 Klaude was at Lowers, and I caught the tail end of a conversation he had with a surfer that he thought he snaked. The surfer said, “Nah, man, you weren’t in the way. It’s a party wave day, anyway.” I was surprised with how friendly the atmosphere was. I got some funky vibes the first time I surfed Lowers, but today’s energy was much more relaxed and mellow.

 Klaude told me that he got some solid rides, and he even got semi barreled. It’s official: KLAUDE’S FIRST BARREL (not sure if it was his first) ON 12 MARCH 2011! I was envious that I didn’t have the same stoke as him, but I was glad that it wasn’t a wasted trip, and that both of the guys had fun.

 I wanted to paddle back out, but we needed to get back to LA, so we took some hot showers and prep’d for the drive back. We ate our snacks as we had front row seats to Churches’s consistent and reliable waves. We got home at a reasonable time. Traffic was fairly smooth going to and from, and we still had the rest of the day to enjoy.

 It wasn’t a wasted trip, but I set my expectations too high to score exactly the same as the last time I was there. My friend Cheryl told me that Parks Beach was walled-up and overhead, so Trestles was still the better call for the day. I can’t help my frustrations, and I have a tendency to get “bummed out” if I don’t have epic sessions. But it’s that same feeling of being bummed that motivates me to surf and surf hard. It was a good day.