A WEEKEND AT TRESTLES: PADDLING INTO ORANGE, FRI 3.25.2011 EVE

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: NA
RAN INTO: NA
TIME: 1900 - 1930, 30 min.
CONDITIONS: Lighter onshore winds but still prevalent, high tide, swampy, backwashed, warm water, inconsistent, but serene.

    What a fiasco after this morning’s session. When I checked-in to the camping office, they were cool as hell. They gave me all the details I needed to know, then I headed to my spot. Just as I was hoping, it was right there on the sand in front of the beach. The only bad thing is that the waves don’t break there. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but wouldn’t it be nice to have good waves in front of where you sleep?

Waves in front of the campsite. Not so good.

    The tent . . . what a fucking pain in the ass that was. I pulled it out, set it on the ground, and I couldn’t find the tent stakes; there were none. Son of a bitch, I thought. No offense to my friend Dan that let me borrow the tent. I was trying to save some money. I have a K-mart one-man tent that I bought years ago, but I didn’t want to use that fucking thing. There was only one way to deal with this: I had to go on post to get another tent.

    I went to the base shopping mart and bought a propane stove, and a bunch of other shit. Thankfully, I found some tent stakes on sale, so that solved the tent problem. After that I went to the grocery store. I bought Spam, eggs, sausage, and more stuff that I’m not even sure that I’ll be able to eat by the time the trip is over. In fact, I will probably be force feeding anyone that arrives in hopes to get rid of it all.

    I also called the firewood delivery service, but they said that their truck was broken down. At least they said they’d keep me updated if they could deliver some fire wood or not.

    I got back to the site to set up the tent. VICTORY. Motherfuckin’ victory, except . . . where are the poles for the rain tarp? Where are the chords to fasten the rain tarp? There‘s pictures of them in the set-up manual. No, no victory here. FUCKING FAIL AGAIN! I was pissed. The people in the sites next to me saw me struggling to set up the tent, and now I was going to have to take it down again? I resorted to the fact that I would have to go back to the base to finally buy another fucking tent. After a couple minutes of being pissed off, the option of keeping the tent with the loose rain tarp resonated with me; I‘d just sleep in the car if it rained.

    Firewood. I called them again, and I got a voice mail that said they were out of wood, so I still had to go back to base anyway.

    I couldn’t relax. I kept on going inside and outside of the tent, and then back inside again. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the ocean. I wanted to paddle back out, but the onshore wind was just howling strong. The water looked uninviting. Yes, there were waves; some of them were breaking way on the outside. The rides looked a little racy, but there was a little shape. It looked kind of like Porto on a blown out day, except the peaks had faces to work with. I kept watching surfers coming and going, paddling in and paddling out, but I was waiting for that right moment for the wind to die down; it didn’t.

    I drove to the base accepting my decision not to paddle out, but then I started philosophizing about it. If you don’t paddle out, then you can stay home, stay on the sand, watch the waves from the warmth of your car/tent, etc. The problem with that is, you’ll know what you’ll get out of that: dryness, not even suiting up, and no chance of catching anything. At least if you try to paddle out, regardless of the 50/50 chance of getting a good ride or not, at least you try, and if you try then anything is possible, and you might get that one good wave to make it all worth it. I couldn’t help but think that maybe I was being too picky, but did I have a right to be that picky? I thought I did. Every other session at Trestles was close to perfect conditions, today it rained, the water was stormy, excuses, etc., etc.

    On my drive back to camp I saw that the sun was setting. I wanted to get back in time to take a picture, but it was gone. I looked at the American flag flying over my neighbor’s trailer; the wind had died considerably. I looked out and saw a couple shoulders worth going for. If I could just get a couple of those, I thought. The desire to just get wet and paddle around in the latent day was too tempting to pass up. I changed and paddled out at 1900. Surprisingly, the water wasn’t that cold. I made my way to the inconsistent line up and waited for anything with a face or shoulder. No one was out any more. The horizon was a fading orange, and some dissipating clouds left faint trails in the form of a V. The sound of the waves crashing, the dark blue and black triangular shapes that dominated the water, the orange reflections from what was left in the waning light, my snuggly camp site waiting for my return, the distance that I had from the familiar and the stressing, they all gave me a feeling of serenity and a peace of mind that I haven’t had in a while. I caught one close out back to shore, and that was perfectly fine.

    In the showers there was a surfer that just got out. He said, “Hey, have fun, didja?”

    I replied, “Meh, it was all right. A little too much wind.”

    “Awwww, mate, but you can always find something baaad to say. . . . There were waves, weren’t there?”

    Fuck . . . he was right. “There were waves,” he said. Yes, there were. I guess that’s all that really mattered, and I missed it. Too picky? I don’t know. You can’t win them all, all the time. I expect tomorrow to be my day. I hope that it doesn’t rain and that the stormy conditions will be over.

    Sitting here now in the darkness with a cup of hot chocolate, outdoors, with the sound of the ocean behind me . . . I am happy.

A WEEKEND AT TRESTLES: AGAINST ALL ODDS, FRI 3.25.2011 MOR

INTRO:

    On Tuesday, Klaude text me and said that he was surfing Trestles on Saturday even if he had to sleep in the bang-bus on Cristianitos. I knew for sure that I’d be going there on Friday. I thought to myself about how I could make the plan work? I thought about surfing all day Friday at Trestles, coming home, then venturing out with Klaude again, but that would be too much driving. Then, I got a wild hair up my ass . . . I decided to just get a camping spot for the whole weekend. It would work out perfectly because Lauren was going to San Diego with her friends anyway. I set up a webpage and made an event out of it. It was an open invite for everyone.

    Well, the only bad thing was there was rain in the forecast, and there was a fifty percent chance that the whole weekend would be ruined by stormy conditions, but it was a chance I was willing to take. To me it was worth the risk, but only time would tell if the decision would be genius or buffoonery.

    I stayed up late getting all my shit together. It was the first time that I’ve ever set up a camping expedition by myself. The more I thought about it, the more stuff I wanted to bring. I almost bought a whole new set of outdoor pots and pans. Last night Lauren gave me a funny look as she watched me in the kitchen. “Really, you’re going to take the rice cooker?” she said.

    “Hell yeah! Spam, eggs, and rice on the beach! Oh my gawd, sounds so delicious!” I said.
    She nodded in disapproval as I stood there with the one pound Diamond G bag in my hand.

    Last night was pouring rain, and this morning was no different. I got a late start and hit the road by 0630, and by the time I hit HB it was “stop and go” traffic. Sheets of rain pounced on my car sporadically throughout the whole drive. I figured that there was no rush to paddle out because of the conditions, so I took the long drive through Dana Point and San Clemente to see the ocean and find somewhere to eat. The surf looked stormy with not one surfer out.

    I ordered a plate of machaca with eggs and cheese at Love Burger (I’ll give them a good review on Yelp) and headed to San Onofre right after. I’ve never seen the surf so consistent at Old Man’s. Yes, it sure was stormy, on shore, rainy, but there were head high lefts that still held their shape. Not perfect, far from perfect, but they were rideable.

    Now, the sun is out with the overcast finally burning away. It’s 1007. I regret eating such a heavy meal now. I’m gonna watch it for a little bit and figure out where to surf. As of right now, there are three long boarders at Old Man’s; it’s warming up.

A WEEKEND AT TRESTLES:
AGAINST ALL ODDS, FRI 3.25.2011 MOR

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: NA
RAN INTO: NA
TIME: 1035 - 1200, 1 hr. & 25 min.
CONDITIONS: Sunny with patches of gray skies, side shore to onshore wind, extremely low tide, slight south current, five feet, inconsistent, long lulls, mostly rights, a couple lefts, lot of chop and texture because of storm, waves still had open faces.

    I just learned that the tide is still going up. Low tide was at 0942, and high tide will be at 1658 . . . It fooled me. Once the sun came out and I saw three surfers at Old Man’s, I decided it was time to change. As I parked at Churches I saw that no one was there. I literally had first dibs on that whole spot. Because of that, I was reluctant to walk to Middles or Lowers. I did see some fun looking rights rolling through, and I justified myself by saying, “I only go to Middles to get away from the crowd.” Since there was no crowd at Churches, I thought it more convenient to just paddle out right in front of my parking spot. I thought that it was low tide because a lot of the rocks were exposed. I saw a longboarder and his shortboarder girlfriend paddling out just to my south; they wisely picked a channel with less rocks. Not me. I was stubborn and walked to chest deep water, braving the uneven and slippery footing while looking like an orangutan on ecstasy.

    I couldn’t find the line up. The longboarder was close by, but then he paddled so far on the outside that I figured either he or I was completely off. My local knowledge of the spot still isn’t quite there yet. The water, despite after the storm, was just like any other winter day. There weren’t any funky debris floating around, and the water looked lime green under the high sun. The longboarder paddled early into a right that was about five feet, and he caught it all the way to the shallow area--a long ass ride. I backed out of the first right that came. It looked like it was going to close, but it actually rolled past me, and I could see that the shoulder was holding shape from behind. I should’ve gone. An outside set came. It was a random left. Even though the tide was low, since the wave was breaking so far outside, it was actually burgery. The slope of the wave was almost too gradual, but I paddled myself into it. It was probably a four footer, and it was a clean shoulder in the midst of the morning funk. I trimmed top to bottom, desperately trying to dig my tail into the lip for a mean gouge, but I still couldn’t whip my tail around. Something just happens when I’m front side, like I’m stuck on the board. I’d like to think that the waves mooshiness didn’t help with my speed, so that could’ve been another factor. I even tried shifting my footing, putting as much weight, and pushing on the back to no avail. Regardless, it was a really fun left. Actually, it was one of the longest lefts that I’ve had in a while.

    I’ll keep the rest of my report short. For about the next hour I wiped out on two waves, was out of position for the plus sized sets, and frustratingly waited in between the long lulls. I only got one wave. The last forty five minutes was me and this other guy that showed up after the couple left. We were both going through the same shit. The wind picked up a little bit more turning from sideshore to onshore. There was more disorganization and inconsistency in the water. Maybe it wasn’t the tide to blame as much as it was the wind. I figured that I missed the morning window because of the storm, and what was left was a race against the wind.

    Well, one good wave for the morning . . . what can I say? The walk back to the sand was excruciating. My toes were numb, and I kept stumbling and falling because of those damn rocks. The cold and pain combined made me feel like if I had lost a toe I wouldn’t have noticed!

    Well, it’s time to check in. I got a good handful of people that are actually stoked about coming out here, and that makes me happy. I’m gonna set up camp.

TRESTLES: SURF BUM SHELTER, FRI 3.18.2011 EVE

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 1600 - 1800, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Clear skies, onshore wind, low tide, slight south current, three feet, inconsistent, long lulls, mostly rights and a couple lefts, good shape.

    Instead of chillin’ on the sand, like how I did during my last staycation, I ended up lying down in the back of my wagon. Well, first I had a loner picnic and devoured all of my food. I was drained from that first session. Oreo cookies saved my life!

    I parked under a shaded tree to read a book, but then passers-by kept staring at the brown monkey trying to sleep in his car, so I drove closer to where I parked in the morning.

    I backed my car up so the rear hatch faced the ocean. It was amazing. I read Ronald Dahl’s Switch Bitch (for school) until I got tired and fell asleep. I woke up here and there to a couple text messages and phone calls, but I loved having the view of the ocean at my feet. I watched some little longboard waves roll by as I drifted back to nappy-poo status.

    At 1530 I woke up to get ready for round two. Low tide was at 1500, so I figured that I’d let an hour slide by to let the tide rise a little. A major transformation took place, as the tide was so low that all the rocks were exposed on the drained shoreline. I walked all the way to Cristianitos trail again, and then I turned around to check out Middles--the same spot. There were about five people there, and it looked like the best bet again. It was just a little sloppier because the winds were blowing on shore, but the spilling waves still had open faces accompanied with them.
    My walk out to deep water was long and treacherous. The stones were slippery, and I took great care not to twist an ankle or step on any unwelcoming surprises. I looked like a drunken orangutan trying to walk a tight-rope.
    I finally made it to waist deep water and paddled out, and then . . . I waited. Gawd damn, another long ass wait. More surfers approached as I sat, and the same main peak in the morning was being hogged again. This time, there were a lot of little grommies, but those little kids were ripping it. I still got the random sets that broke by me. I got another outside right. I remember how I got lucky. When the set came, two groms paddled for the first wave. Since only one got the wave, the other kid was out of position. By the time he saw the second wave approaching I was already making a beeline for it. The wave cloud-breaked on top of me, and it gave me so much speed that it set me up perfectly when I dropped in. I remember looking down the long open face and seeing about a half dozen guys, bobbing up and down on their boards, watching me, as I came pumping down the line. I love the feeling of bottom turning up the face. My arms outstretch wide to set myself up, my eyes looking up the wave, and then it happens. I hit the lip, and then I’m looking down the wave ready to do it again. Also, I actually got a really good left. It was exactly what I’ve been wishing for: a left to practice my turns on. I did my best to get some good front-side carves on the lip, something is still wrong with my body mechanics, but I know I’m getting closer. I focused all my efforts on pushing hard on the tail. I pulled it off, but not with the speed and power that I wanted. Well, everything is just repetition; I just need more good lefts to practice on. I need a good south swell to generate some lefts.
    I didn’t feel like competing at the main peak. Those locals had it wired, and I didn’t want to get in there at that moment; I need a little more time there. The lull wasn’t worth the wait in the end, so I called it a day after two hours. Right now Trestles is my training ground. Each time I go there I feel like I’ve learned something or progressed a little further. I look forward to getting that spot wired.