CREW: Klaude and Dais
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: J
TIME: 1400 - 1645, 2 hrs. & 45 min.
CONDITIONS: Slight onshore, low tide, 2-3 feet, clean, lefts and rights.
As we left Del Mar, Klaude noticed the time check at 1:11 P.M. It seemed significant with this morning’s triple five time check as well. We talked about the morning session; they had fun. We also talked about the company we were in, how everything was mellow, and how it all still added up to a good time. I . . . I was really frothy for some good surf. I didn’t feel at the least bit satisfied with the morning session. My lunch I ate was undeserved; I barely even worked up an appetite. We accepted the fact that the surf was small, but we just hoped that the cobble stone bottoms around San Onofre would provide some good shape. We listened to more surf tunes as we drove past the crowded state park entrance. There were people parked all the way on the bluffs; we’ve never seen it that packed before. We looked for J at his campsite, but his phone was dead, so we couldn’t get a hold of him. We’ve never seen the camp grounds that packed either. Marines, freshly returned from Afghanistan, took over most of the parking and picnic spots. Much deserved, I appreciate their service.
The surf gods were kind to us, as there was an open parking space all the way towards the north near Churches. Before we even stepped out, we could see that the conditions were pristine compared to Del Mar. Clean little two and three footers consistently sprouted up at scattered peaks, and throngs of longboarders were all getting their fill in. What was expected to be an overcrowded day was not reflected in the line up. Sure, there was a crowd in the water, but not more than any other weekend. Maybe it was the small forecast that kept people at home or the NBA playoffs? We didn’t know and didn’t care.
I wiped the drool off my chin. “Let’s do this!” I said.
We changed as we watched the beautiful right handers open up in front of us. We chose to do some exploring further north to our usual spots, but we had to stop short. Why? Because there were two vacant peaks just north of Churches; we weren’t even by Middles yet!
We all glanced at the break, and then I asked Dais, AKA Nostra Daisus, to make the call. Dais said, “It looks good over here.”
“I don’t care, we can walk further north if ya‘ll want,” I said.
“All right, let’s keep going.” We walked about five more feet. “But it does look good over here though!”
The consensus was made, and I stumbled along the slippery exposed cobblestones as I made my way to thigh deep water. Everything just felt so much better: the water had less texture, the wind was weaker, the waves were breaking consistently in close proximity, and the sun’s rays were set to “warm” instead of “bake.” I duck dived two perfect lefts as I made my way to the line. I was recharged. The stoke that I had the night before reinvigorated my surfer soul. I turned to look at the cliffs off of Basilone road; it was so picturesque. We were going to score. It was destiny, undeniable, we would eat, eat hearty.
I caught two lefts before the fellas even got to the line up. There was only one surfer sharing it with us to the south.
Klaude paddles up and says, “I love this place. The smell of the seaweed . . . this place is alive! Doesn’t it remind you of home?”
I thought about Maui and wondered if those sensations reminded me the island. I thought about Napili, Front St. Lahaina, Honolua, Windmills. It was too much to consider, I returned to the present. I don’t know how, but I got too damn lucky. First of all, we had the place all to ourselves with one other guy. Second, I fought the current to stay in the same spot, and little peaky lefts kept coming my way; it was like clockwork, a wave machine. On the button, the lulls were short and the waves would come. Another thing, Trestles is predominantly all “rights,” but there were actually a lot of lefts! Wave after wave, I caught most of them all the way to the shallow end. It was magnificent, such a low tide with still so much potential.
The only problem was that the waves were really weak. We all had to pump our boards to keep up with the sections or we’d bog out. It was a session for going down the line and not practicing anything technical. I still experimented with cutting back and throwing the tail on the face, but it was to no success. I looked pretty awkward trying, so I went back to just pumping and going down the line. I even crouched down low and shifted to the front of the board to keep momentum which resulted in long rides, watching the building shoulders before me.
Dais and Klaude may have struggled a little because of the waves’ lack of power, but they still had good wave counts. I told them of the luck I had at my peak and tried to get them to go for the waves when they came. The wave of the afternoon came on a plus sized A-frame. It had to be an A-frame because Klaude and I split the peak perfectly. It was the only wave of the afternoon with a steep drop. I stuck the landing and pumped my board on the building wall. I looked ahead and saw Dais just outside of my path cheering me on. It was another long ride. I turned and saw Klaude remounting on his board towards the inside. We were both stoked when we got back to the lineup.
The lulls increased and we worked our way towards Middles. I got greedy, paddled further north, and ended up empty handed. I paddled back just in time to watch Dais snake Klaude on a right. It was a funny moment for them, as they kept giving each other shit over the whole situation.
We all strove for our last waves, trying our best not to paddle in. Klaude rode one to shore first, I followed suit, and then we tried to call waves for Dais as he fell on a final mediocre wave. As we changed in front of Churches, the waves got even better and kept rolling through; it was unbelievable. The conditions didn’t let up at all, and Churches was absolutely firing. We pulled an evening session just short of three hours and were wiped, done, exhausted. As we drove away we spotted J. We stopped, chit chatted a little, and then we were on our way to dinner. We ate AYCE sushi for three hours at the secret spot. It was their first time their, and they loved it. It culminated a perfect evening session which cancelled out the poor surf from the morning. We were back in L.A. by 2200.
An epic day, the drive to San Onofre saved us. I can’t find the words to describe the essence of what I felt. Great surf followed up by the tasteful delights of raw fish; they even had the playoffs playing as we ate. Our mission was accomplished. I wish every staycation could end the same.
