HB: STILL WORKING, TUE 7.26.2011 MOR

Crew: Francis, Nicole, Dave

Ran into: Manny

Time: 0750-0950, 2 hrs.

Conditions: AM onshore wind, overcast early, sunny later, two footers with occasional three footers, inconsistent, warm.

      Last night Francis told me he wanted to take his girlfriend Nicole to HB. I took another look at the forecast. Things still looked small for Tuesday but obviously smaller in the South Bay. Why not? I tex'd Khang, Christina, and Dave to see if they wanted to go. Khang didn't respond, Chris had some tutoring to do, and Dave said he'd meet us there.

      It's another night with only about four and a half hours of sleep. What am I, in college? I need to start going to bed earlier. I wake up at 0531. I'm so tired that it's a mission just getting my underwear on. I reach for the same shorts and tank top that I've worn for the last two days. They smell, but I can go one more day before they go in the hamper. I plan on eating some cereal, but last night's cookie and ice cream binge is knocking on my anus. My shit's so creamy, it's like a churro machine. I'm so tired that I can't muscle out all of my poop. I'm still shitting when I get the text from Francis marking his arrival. No cereal today, just a banana and some water to go. We load the car and hit the road.

      It's another easy drive to HB. Dave shoots a text saying he'll be there in thirty minutes. Nicole says she's surfed HB with Klaude, but it's Francis's first time. I give them the same prebrief that I gave the other guys yesterday. As we pull in the parking lot, I can see that the onshore winds have started early. I'm disappointed at this. Yesterday's wind was so stale, but today it's prevalent. We walk out to take a look. There are less people than the day before, and to our surprise, some two-to-three foot surf is breaking on the outside with some consistency. We watch one local go for some nice rights. The rides are still kind of short, but it's enough to capture that feeling that we all came here for. We go back, change, and wait for Dave by the lifeguard tower. When he arrives, they all go through the introductions. Apparently, despite our connections through similar friends, they've never met each other.

      A local guy from yesterday, in a gray wetsuit, shares the peak with us. I'm not sure if he's aggro or not, but I see that he and Dave are having the casual morning conversation. My first couple waves bog out after their fast drops. Dave scratches out on a couple waves. I see that he's trying to paddle while looking behind him. I tell him that when his paddle is stronger that he can do that, but right now he should keep his head forward and just focus on paddling. Francis wastes no time, and gets some waves immediately. Eventually, I get some rights that hold some decent shape, but I rarely get more than one turn in. We all start to drift north, so I paddle down south to maintain my position. The conditions change a little, as the surf turns inconsistent. The lulls are longer now, and we all wait for the sets. I paddle pass the guy in the gray wetsuit. He comments on how the swell is backing off. I guess he's pretty mellow after all, good people.

      I sit in my new spot alone, and I get a fun left similar to yesterday's lefts. It looks small but doubles up on the inside. I try to stay in the pocket and get a novice whack at the lip, but I find it more necessary to keep up with the fast section. I stop short of two guys hanging out on the inside. Another sign that today is small is the presence of fun boarders, a lot of them. I'm not complaining, but I have to note this because I've never seen so many in one day at this spot. Usually HB has nothing but rippers, but today is not like that at all. I see Francis, Nicole, and Dave in the distance. Francis waves. I wave back. Just then I see Dave paddling for a wave. He's looking back. I expect that he'll continue to do so, but he looks forward and paddles harder. The lip comes down, and all I can see is white wash from my vantage point. Amidst the explosion, I see Dave stand and officially get his first wave of the day. I can hear faint cheers from the happy couple. We're all happy for him.

      The group decides to work their way back south towards me. Dave paddles up and tells me that they all did meet before. It turns out that Dave served them food at his job, but I guess it all didn't click right away. After a wave I see Nicole pop up on a right hander for a little ride. We're all catching waves. Francis is some kind of human wave magnet because I've been sitting for a while, and waves just keep coming towards him. Dave is a little north of me. He sits and watched the horizon. I look outside and see a wave forming in front of him. “Dave!” I shout. “Go for it!”

      “This one?” he says. He still has time to think about it before he lies down to paddle. I see the wave jacking up behind him. I'm worried that I called him too late on a late wave, but he's actually on the shoulder. In one fluid motion he stands up and catches his second wave. I wait for him to resurface, and I give him a thumb's up.

      When he paddles by I tell him, “You're no longer 'One Wave Dave.'” The waves become hard to read. They look flat, especially with the wind knocking them down, but they jack up early and throw off my timing. Francis goes left, Dave is in his direct line, the section closes, and I hear Dave apologizing to Francis. A three foot right forms in front of me. I turn around and paddle for it, and Dave is in my direct line. I grab my board and brace for my plunge, nose first. Poor Dave. He has to apologize again, but we're not sore. “It happens,” I tell him. We're all there to catch waves, and I'd rather have him in my way that not have him there at all.

      It's almost two hours that we've been out. Nicole's already on the sand taking a nap under the sun. I tell the guys that I'm catching my last one in. Once we're all out we say our goodbyes, and Dave walks back across PCH. Francis needs surf wax, but I don't know the local shops around this area. We park by the pier and head to HSS. I'm surprised to see how much stuff they have on clearance. Outside of the store are racks of clothes and surf gear. They end up eating lunch by the pier while I have a look around. I can't resist but buy a board bag. After the forty percent off it only comes out to thirty eight bucks, a no brainer. We people watch, check out the Hurley US Open event site, and watch the surfers by the pier. The north side is breaking better, it's crowded, but the waves are nice. It's a beautiful, sunny, summer's day, and everyone seems to be out. 

 

      On the way back to the car I see Manny walking towards me. I haven't seen him since I left for Bali. I feel more ashamed than happy because I'm wearing a tank top with a giant Billabong logo. He's given me so much Hurley gear that I should be wearing his stuff. I have been using the wetsuit he gave me. I tell him I have a shirt for him, but it's at the house. I introduce him to Francis and Nicole, and he invites us back to check out the US Open finals whenever it happens. Unfortunately I have work that weekend.

      And that's how it went. I still praise HB's surf on what's supposed to be a flat day. Even though it wasn't as consistent as yesterday, there were still enough waves for a fun filled morning. I've been trying to keep the ball rolling since returning from Bali. I need to surf as much as possible. Thank goodness we'll have swell this weekend. 

 

HB: SMALL AND ROUND, MON 7.25.2011 MOR

Crew: Christina, Dave

Time: 0745-1045, 3 hrs.

Conditions: Sunny, warm, empty, faint onshore wind, 2-3 feet, inconsistent, shallow, but . . . FUN.

The Call:

     It's no secret that surf is flat right now. I don't know if all my fellow west coast surfers have been glued to the reports as I have, just hoping and waiting for some kind of pulse to upgrade the forecast. Last night Christina presented the idea of heading to Central Cali, all the way up to Surf Beach by Vanderburg AFB, fucking three hours away. I was surprised to hear that signs of surf escaped my radar, so I took a look at the forecast and found huge green and yellow arrows which indicated blown out conditions. I told Chris the bad news, and she expressed her frustration from the lack of local swell. I think we all can relate.

     I didn't expect to travel for surf this Monday. Why travel for an extra foot that's not guaranteed? And then I thought about how my bro gave me his state parking pass for HB. It expires after August, and I haven't surfed there once since being home. El Porto was predicted to be 1-2 foot ankle slappers, while HB was 2-3 feet and inconsistent. I looked at Monday's roster and made some calls. Khang didn't answer, and Francis had to stay local because of work. I could've stayed home and kept it simple. Could have.

The HB Gamble:

     Despite just over four hours of sleep, I wake up at 0530 before my alarm goes off. I manage to pour some cereal and yesterday's old coffee. The JS is back at Rick's shop, so I knock the dust off the DMS. The poor board's lamination is coming off. I don't know how many more sessions she has in her, but she's still a loyal and trusty beast. I look out the window and Christina is by my car. I look at my watch. It's 0600. Punctual. Just as I'm about to head out the door I get a phone call from Deathwish Dave. He says that he's almost home and needs to grab his board. He's behind schedule, but he offers to drive and meet us himself.

     I kiss Lauren goodbye, and we're on the road mixing with the morning traffic. The sun is rising above a small patch of clouds making a bright orange background in the horizon. Rolling with Chris is like hanging out with one of the fellas. I treat her like a guy and blow a fart or two her way. It's the ethical thing to do because we are friends. Also, I think she likes the smell. She's just that kind of girl, a surfer girl.

     As we pull up to the state beach parking my phone rings. It's Dave, and he's already around the corner. The internal guilt begins. I don't know if it's a military thing, but I have to be on time. If I plan something, the ducks MUST fall in a row. On this morning, Dave was behind schedule, but he got here just as fast as we did.

     Chris and I hit the pissers first before checking out the surf. “It's so quiet,” she says. She's right. The air is stale, there isn't a cloud blocking the sun, the ground is heating up, and the parking lot is a few cars short of being deserted. This worries me. I worry that the ocean is mimicking it's surroundings. Please don't be a lake out there, I think to myself. We take the path that I've referred to as me and my brother's. Approaching the shore, I see no sign of surf, but once we walk up to the lifeguard tower we see more. To our south there are about a dozen surfers hovering around some scattered peaks, and in front of us there are only two guys. It looks like a small day that wants to be bigger. It's barely three feet, but the waves are still pitchy and fast. Small peaks form slowly, but the lip folds down fast with the precision of an envelope seal. The chain reaction pushes the racy sections in both directions with welcoming shoulders for those quick enough to pop up. Still, it's a small day, but I'm just emphasizing how it's such a different wave from El Porto and San O.

     Two to three foot surf here looks better than a Porto ankle slapper any day. We're stoked, so we head back to suit up. We see Dave crossing the street in the distance, and we meet him on shore. I run them both through the HB basics that my bro taught me: watch the towers to see if you're drifting, fight the current if you can, watch out for the shallow inside, and prepare for a faster wave.

     The water is kind of warm. Not warm enough to trunk it, but it's not as cold as it's been. There are only two guys to our north. Everything seems so wide open here. I catch a couple waves that are fast rides on the inside, nothing impressive. I go for my first outside wave of the day and paddle at the peak. Just as I'm popping up, the lip throws me forward. It's a classic “welcome back to HB” moment. Respect the wave.

     Soon Dave and Chris join me, but the current takes them a little north next to the other two dudes. I see a rare jewel, a long but shouldery peak forming on the outside. Dave sits in the impact zone, and I see him lie on his longboard to paddle for it. “Dave, watch out!” I yell. I assume he's going. Bad move in HB. The waves look slow, but they'll turn on you. It passes Dave, so he's all right. Chris starts off by catching the waves a little too late. I see her turning and paddling while the wave is only moments away from going round. I expect her to eat it, but she emerges in front of the wave and heads for shore. Not bad.

     The water's really shallow for a “high tide.” Other than the few gems, the waves break close to shore over shallow water, but to my surprise these are fun rides. On that tiny DMS, I'm managing to put in a decent wave count. Kicking and splashing water everywhere, I muscle my way in. These waves are familiar. They are the ones that I couldn't catch the last time I was here. Instead of popping up to see the section running away, I'm getting up faster, pointing my nose down the line, and somehow making the open face. These tiny waves get a little bigger towards the inside, and even though I'm over shallow water they are doubling up with open shoulders. The lefts are the best. As the section builds I draw a new high line to keep my momentum. It's enough to practice my frontside cutbacks and topturns. What my brother says makes sense: “Stay in the critical part of the wave to get your turns down.” I do, and it gives me more speed to work with which makes my turns easier.

     I get pitched on another wave, and I just slide off my board as I air drop; I'm not gonna make it. Dave and Chris are paying some dues as well. I see Dave paddling, but his nose keeps purling, and he either slides backwards or over the front. We talk about finding the sweet spot on the board, when to shift your weight to the front or the back, etc. Chris is going through the same thing too. I see her paddling for waves, disappearing, then her board shooting out while she's under. It's a different wave, I've had HB sessions where I do nothing but eat shit, but I'm stoked to see that they aren't backing out; they are going for it. With that mentality, their surfing can only get better.

     The onshore wind puts a little texture on the water, but we can barely feel it. Dolphins swim parallel to shore going back and forth. We even see a baby dolphin swimming close to its mother. Dave finds something that looks like half seahorse, half sea snake and picks it up. Chris and I can't help but paddle over for a look.

     There's window when the outside waves get a little consistent. I hunt for lefts, but I still get some three foot rights that line up nicely. I never get more than two turns on a wave, but the rights are so fast that my top turns hit the lip as they're coming down. I'd like to think it's a critical turn, but it probably doesn't look as cool as I imagine. I catch a small left that stands up so much that I can't help but lean my head in the curl. Clearly not a barrel, but I look down the line to see the shoulder building. One day.

     Chris makes her adjustments. She wipes out less and rides the face of the waves. Dave and I comment on her poses that she makes, one arm extended with her hip pointed forward. I paddle next to Dave to see if I can assist. I call a wave in the distance and make him paddle with me. We're going, and it's setting up for his longboard. Just as the wave picks him up I see his nose already under the water. He purls his board. Too much in front. We discuss how it's hard to “show someone how to surf.” We can demonstrate fundamentals and give pointers, but it's really up to the individual to get the wave. Dave's a living example, as I later see him stand up on his board for a short ride. He resurfaces smiling. I give him the thumbs up and say, “Still counts. You caught a wave!” On another outside wave I see him paddling for it. It looks like the wave's about to leave him, but he doesn't let up and drops in. I have to duckdive the wave, so I don't know how long his ride is, but it's something he should be proud of.

     By the end of the third hour the lulls are longer. It's a struggle to get that last wave, the cherry on top. Instead of cherries we get something else, but at least we don't paddle in. It turns out that Dave has to go somewhere in the OC anyway, so it works out that he drove on his own. Chris and I head back. I struggle to keep my eyes open, but we make it in good time.

Fro-Yo. Much healthier. Because I only live healthy.

     In my home, I kill off a huge plate of last night's pasta. For dessert, I have a huge bowl of frozen yogurt with two of Lauren's homemade chocolate chip cookies. Surfer fuel. It would've been nice if the surf was a little more consistent, but we milked as much as we could out of it. The gamble proved to be a good one. Someone said that the best surfer is the one having the most fun. We did have fun even though the forecast predicted that we wouldn't. Sometimes surfing is what we make of it, not just the conditions.

FLATSPELL, SUN 7.24.2011 MOR

Crew: Khang, Klaude

Ran into: Rick, Jimmy, Jack, Dave

Time: 0740-0900, 1 hr. & 20 min.

Conditions: Serious overcast, light onshore winds, 1-2 ft., weak, crumbly, consistent, medium crowd.

     Klaude was adamant about surfing today, so I made sure to at least make an attempt to check it out.

     I start the car at 0600, and I already get a text from rick saying that 26^th St. is only one foot and weak. I give him a call, and he tells me to meet him at Porto. We shoot the shit in the parking lot, and then he goes to the porta potty next to the bathrooms to actually take a shit. He tells me that he and his budz surfed Oxnard yesterday, and it was shoulder high, clean, but weak. The surf is dismal; we're over it. Rick says, “None of those guys that I tex'd this morning even responded.”

     We end up at the Blue Butterfly in El Segundo before it's even open. He fills me in on more secret spots up north that he's going to show me in the future and how those waves break. Just then, Klaude sends me a text. I tell him that I'm skipping out on the surf this morning, but his dad developed my pictures from Uluwatu, and Klaude has them.

     I tell Rick that I'll see him later, he takes my JS to touch up the tail repair, and he offers his fish just in case I paddle out. I park in the lower lot next to the bang bus. To my surprise, Jimmy is there with his wife and kids, Rick's other friend Jack shows up, and Gary and Dave T. are already in the line up. I text Rick to let him know that all of his friends are here. “You have to paddle out now,” says Klaude. The surf is only two feet, but it doesn't look as bad as expected. I have Rick's fish, but I figure that I can at least get some turnless rides just going down the line.

     Things are in the sand. I don't know what they are, but they feel sharp and poke my feet as I'm walking out. Glass? I jump on my board to avoid touching the bottom. The fish feels different; it's so broad and buoyant that I can barely duckdive it. I expect the small surf to be easier to catch, and I catch a one footer with ease. It's a different feeling. The nose of the fish feels so wide that it's slowing me down as I drop in. It feels more like a sluggish boat. But then again, the surf is so small that I doubt my thruster would have any speed in this surf. I practice Randy's “turn and go” technique where he spins himself around using his knees only. I still don't have it down, but it helps me catch another wave right as I paddle back out, outpositioning a guy that has been sitting in the line up for a while. I know it's bad to be greedy, so I distance myself when I get back. It's 0800, and I tell Klaude that we need to feed the meters. When we get to our cars Klaude swaps his thruster out for Dais's fish.

     In the lineup, Klaude paddles north to talk to the local regulars while Khang and I stay in front of the lifeguard tower. It's a mellow morning. The crowd is thin, there are enough waves for everyone, the surf is small but consistent, and we catch little rides the whole time. It changes my perspective on the tiny conditions. I skipped out on Friday and Saturday because I knew the surf was small, but even a morning like this is worth a paddle out. I need to be more optimistic and make the best out of what the ocean has to offer.

     Klaude is the first to exit the water signaling our expired meters. Deathwish Dave is on the sand talking with him. Khang and I catch our last waves in. I say hi to Dave and express my regret that we've missed each other. Klaude stays another half hour, as Khang and I head back to the cars.

     When I check my phone, Rick's replied to my last text. He wrote: Those hotos never replied 2 me. Yeah, bummer. I also have a missed text from Cheryl asking if we're surfing today. I figure that she had a late start. So the surf looks flat for this upcoming week. I'm not sure where I'll find myself. I hope there's a swell upgrade or some kind of unexpected pulse.