SOUTHERN GAMBLE, SAT 05NOV2011 MOR

Location: Churches

Crew: Klaude

Time: 0815-1100, 2 hrs & 45 min

Conditions: Offshore, clean, high tide, 4 ft with occasional 5, air temp in the mid 40s, moosdhy, sunny, crowded enough.

            I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to head down south to score at this fickle, empty break that I rarely go to. What I love about this place is that there’s barely anyone there, and a crowded day has no more than ten heads. Even though the swell is forcasted stronger in the South Bay, O-side was barely a foot less in size, so the decision in my head was made: gamble on a smaller wave with fewer people. I’ve had this discussion already before. Sometimes we find good waves, but what’s the worth if you have to compete with the whole community for them? 

            Klaude and I went through the roster to see who was game. Francis went up north to check out the Rip Curl event in San Fran, Dais had plans, Khang had to stay local, and Rick already committed to overtime on Saturday. 

            Klaude pulls up at 0530, right on time. We bring two boards each, minimum gear, and load up the vehicle to hit the road in total darkness. We’re making good time. We catch up on the week’s events while gaining some miles. The sun is barely peeking over the horizon as we reach O-side. According to my car temp gauge it’s 46 degrees. We step out and are blasted by some strong offshore winds. Of course, they may not be that strong, but it’s just so cold. A car load of three surfers pull up just before us, and we perch right next to them on the sand for a look. We give our morning greetings as offerings of peace. 

          What I see is a goldmine. I’ve never seen this spot break so big and consistent. Thank god it’s not flat like the last time I was here. Consistent waves are coming in at an easy five feet, bigger than expected. The peaks are scattered everywhere, and the conditions are clean. 

          I’m stoked, sounding like a teenage adolescent every time I point and call out a wave right in front of us. There’s a wet surfer back on the sand talking to someone with a purple body board; he couldn’t make it out. The guys next to us ask if we’re gonna do it. I say, “Yeah, why not? There’s waves. You can surf here where there’s no one or you can go to Trestles where there’s a hundred people.” I ask Klaude what he thinks, and his outlook isn’t as positive. I can see why. It’s almost “too consistent.” The waves are breaking right on top of each other, one by one with barely a lull. And of course, the other guy couldn’t make it out. However, what I see is an empty lineup. The peaks are rideable, and since I’ve been dying to practice my front-side turns on some lefts, I can have all the lefts I want to myself. The paddle out looks challenging, but if I ever want to surf Bali again or anywhere that has pumping surf, this is good “training.” 

            Last time Klaude and I took a trip like this, we went to South Oxnard. I called all the shots that day, forcing Klaude to surf where I wanted to. To be fair, I asked him to make the call. He opted for Trestles instead. My heart was broken as we drove away. Goodbye, empty lefts. 

            I finally get over it. Trestles could be good too, and Klaude rarely has opportunities to come down south, so why not go to a more mellow, enjoyable spot? As we pull up to Churches, we’re in for another surprise. 

           The surf is pumping here too. It’s not as gnarly, but an easy four feet on the face, and it’s consistent. We can hardly contain ourselves as we get our equipment. I say, “Klaude, I need you to do me a favor.”

            “What?”

            “I need you to tell me to slow down.”

            “Slow down.”

            We can’t decide where to paddle out, especially since the surf in front of us is going off. We venture closer to Middles, but . . . the peaks there aren’t as good. Another shocker is that Lower’s isn’t going off. I don’t know what causes Lower’s to shut down, maybe it’s the direction of the swell combined with the tide, not enough south swell perhaps? It’s back to Churches. 

            I take out my chippy DMS because there is size to work with. We paddle out just south of the main pack. Some big, clean, lined up waves come, but there are always people already on the wave. It just comes with the territory with surfing a crowded spot. There are some longboard chicks just killing it. I pull out on a wave that one of them is on, but her bottom turn is too slow, and she gets broadsided by the lip. I could’ve had that. I hear my brother’s lesson in the back of my mind: never pull out. I’m always so worried of causing an accident. I give up the main peak even though it is breaking better here. I go all the way to the top of the wave where Churches gives a little left to find that the conditions aren’t as pristine as I thought. Because of the tide, the waves are really mooshy. My board is too small, as I scratch out on numerous waves. Before I catch a real wave, I wipeout on a couple at first. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, but I’ve been eating shit. I think the last good session I had was at HB a couple weeks ago. I catch a wave that only has a pocket to ride while everything else flattens out. I catch it all the way to shore and switch boards. So I’m at the starting line all over again, and I try to find Klaude to let him know where I am. He’s sitting towards the inside of the crowd, and I see him looking around for me. As I near, an outside wave approaches, I’m the only one in position, and it’s a left. As I’m dropping into it, Klaude is right in front of me. I’m sure that he sees me because I damn near run him over before he duckdives. Unfortunately, the wave doesn’t open up at all, and I end up in the white wash. Today isn’t an easy day. The high tide makes the paddle out further, and the inside is really consistent; it’s a lot of work. I go back to my spot and get my wave of the day. It’s actually pretty sad because I only get one turn on it, and that’s the best I can do all morning. It’s a right that lines up for a long ride. I drop in, bottom turn, and manage to hook my top turn. It feels great that I’m not just cracking the lip on my back hand, but my rotation is going a little further. My main problem is that I tend to stall right after. I manage to down turn and redirect at mid face, but the wave is so mooshy that I don’t compensate for it, and I go right over it as it peels away. It dumps me out near Klaude, and he’s surprised to see me. I explain that I almost ran him over earlier, but he doesn’t recollect. 

            Klaude and I are separated almost the whole session. Finally, the window closes, and the wind turns strong on shore. The conditions get choppy and the waves shut down. The prime peak is working, but there are a lot of guys there.

            Changing out of our wetsuits back at the car, Klaude is pretty satisfied with the morning. For me . . . well, I don’t know. I suppose if I was really good I could just maneuver through the crowd and compete for a wave, but it’s just my lens; I hate crowds and don’t do well around them. At the same time, I know how ridiculous of a notion that is. Am I not part of the crowd adding to the masses as well? We receive the reports from Dais, Khang, and Rick that Porto was firing. Sometimes I wonder if I take my surfing too seriously; I have issues. It’s not that Churches was bad. Klaude sat in the right spot, and I just wanted some space to myself, sacrificing better shape to be alone but didn’t really score. That’s what I tell myself. It’s not the spot, it’s me. 

           

Fueling Up:

            I take Klaude to Pipe’s Café in San Clemente, a spot that Al showed me when he was in town. Klaude agrees that the atmosphere hadsa nice surf theme. After all, who can argue with Innersections playing on the big screen TV. Like clockwork, Marzo’s section begins as we approach the register. Klaude orders two meals: Quesadillas and a sandwich. I stick to my big breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and potatoes. It’s on this time here that I realize the food actually isn’t that great; it’s just the atmosphere that I love so much. We over eat and get ready for the next go out. 

WELCOME TO THE OFFSHORES, WED 02NOV2011 MOR

Surfing fuel. My girlfriend's homemade shrimp pasta from last night.

Crew: Francis & Shan

Time: 0700-1000, 3 hrs

Conditions: Clean, offshore wind, clear skies, 2-3 feet, a little inconsistent, racy long peaks but rideable.

            I an attempt to restore some lost balance in my life, I’ve made the reasonable commitment to exercise three times a week. Last night, I did a light shoulder work out. I had no idea of the impact it would have.

            

            My alarm goes off at 0545, but I snooze until 0600. It’s funny how I wake up early when I have to drive for surf. However, surfing local doesn’t mean that I get that much more sleep. I think I have to wake up almost just as early because I move at a sloth’s pace when surfing in the area. The need to paddle out at first light isn’t there as much. I throw on my wetsuit in my little apartment, grab my gear, and head out the door. I drive all the way down to the lifeguard station at 26^th. There’s no free parking there, but I stop to take a look at the waves. I can see that all the high schoolers are getting their morning sesh in. There seem to be scattered peaks that are working in front of the 26^th St. tower, so I circle around to find a place to park. 

            I’m surprised that 27^th St. is completely vacant, save for another car and my own. The thermometer is at 55 degrees. When I step outside, the offshore wind is a little strong and making the temp cooler than anticipated. I send out the mass text to let my weekday surf buddies know where I am.

             

            It’s just before 0700 when I’m in front of the tower. I haven’t seen a day this clean locally for a while. The offshore wind only puts tiny ripples in the water, but the held shape of the waves is a testament to the wind’s contribution. The cool morning air and clear skies feels like winter. Feelings of seasons past, those cold November and chilly December mornings come back to me. Soon it will be the holidays. I’ll never forget those sessions during the week when everyone is off. We all still meet, talking about what the plans are for the day, never passing the opportunity to surf even when family themes dominate the agenda. Christmas sessions, cold, ice-numbing, and chilly, there’s just a different flavor in the air during those times, and they’re right upon us. Crisp and brisk, I look forward to the paddle out.

            Directly in front of 26^th is a mass of groms and locals, but the kids are clearly dominating. I want none of it. I eye a left-hander just to the south and sit there with a couple fellows. Despite the clean conditions, the day is not necessarily perfect or a wave buffet. There are peaks, but a lot of them are long and racy. The bigger ones close out, but my optimism is still strong. The recent mornings of pulling up to Porto to crumbly, choppy conditions are still fresh, so I’m sure that some nice ones will roll through. 

            My first waves aren’t significant. I either trim before the wave closes or there’s nowhere to go. After paddling back to the lineup a couple times, my shoulders feel weak. I haven’t worked out in a while, and last night’s routine is letting me know that my muscles need rest. Also, I feel pretty winded. Am I that out of shape? At least I don’t get caught on the inside or get in anyone’s way. 

            Someone yells, “Matt!” I turn around, and it’s Francis. I usually spot my friends from the shore but not this time. We catch up, trade off on waves, and hoot each other on. As soon as the kids clear out, we head closer to the tower. Once there I can see Shan and Veronica on the sand. I wave at him frequently, while he looks right at me in confusion. I know it’s him because he has booties and gloves on. He doesn’t wave back until he’s walking out to deeper water.

            Francis decides to sit with the pack to catch the rights while Shan and I remain a little south. “It’s a good wave but too crowded over there,” says Shan. My sentiments exactly. There are random pulses in the ocean. I haven’t seen good, three-wave sets in a while; these pulses come in one or two waves. Even though some are closing out, some hold. I manage to get my wave of the day. It’s about a three foot left. It’s racy, so I pump to the shoulder and get my first top turn. It’s not as clean as the turns from HB, but it’s still good practice. I pump further down the line and get one more arc at mid-face before the ride ends. 

            I have other opportunities to duplicate the ride, but my timing is off. I either scratch out, paddle too deep, or paddle too far inside. I haven’t had this many wipeouts in one session since the morning we met Clay Marzo and Cosmic John at Newport. Francis ventures from the crowd and back to us. Another pulse produces a single left that forms in the distance. Francis and another guy have the peak, but the other guy is too deep. Francis takes this wave all the way to shore, leaving Shan and I, and three other guys, commenting on how good a wave that was. 

            Lately, I’ve been pulling a lot of multi hour sessions, somewhere around three. On this morning, the three hours goes by fast. By 1000, we each leave the water separately. I say bye to Shan on the way up the street, and Francis drives by my car for a quick chat before he leaves. Looking down at the ocean, the wind is still offshore with plenty of waves to be had. I hope we have more offshore days like this to come. 

GOOD THINGS DON’T LAST LONG, SAT 29OCT2011 MOR

 

Location: South Huntington

Crew: Khang, Dais, & Klaude

Time: 0700-1030, 3 hrs & 30 min

Conditions: Clean, light offshore, clear skies, 1-3 feet, weak, crowded, inconsistent, long lulls with random pulses.

            This is my sixteenth surf session for this month, and I’m still chasing surf like I barely get it. I think I should take a break come Sunday and Monday. Of course, I say that now . . . and next thing you now I’m in the water again. I need to do my homework.

            Last night I asked Klaude where he’s surfing on Saturday. He said he had to stay local, but that Khang and Dais would be heading to HB. I hit up Khang and learned that they’d be hitting the road at 0630. In hopes of reduplicating yesterday’s score, I have to be there at first light.

            It’s 0500 again, and I hit the snooze button until it’s 0530. Fuck, I’m late. Lauren doesn’t move as I propel my body upright. I went to bed around one in the morning, but I still muster the energy to get things going. I’m rushing again like I’m behind schedule. I meant to be on the road by now. 

            When I’m on the road I get a phone call from Klaude. “Where are you?” he asks.

            “Man, I’m by Carson right now. What’s up, I thought you were surfing local?”

            “I was, mannnn. I’m at 26^th right now.”

            “How’s it look?”

            “It’s dark. I can’t really see that well, but it looks baaaaaad. I can tell from the whitewash. No one’s here too. I was sooo looking forward to surfing today!”

            “You should call Khang and see if you can ride with those guys,” I say. I go to the same parking spot and score on a space that some guy in a truck can’t fit into. I look in my rear view mirror happy to see that the sun hasn’t risen yet. I walk along PCH to my destination, and I can already see that the river jetties are smaller than yesterday. Once I’m on the sand, I see that my spot isn’t doing much either. It’s looking a little laky and weak at this point. Oh well, I made it out here; time to surf it.

            It’s barely past 0700 when I paddle out. Surprisingly, there aren’t many heads in the water. I hope it will stay like this, but HB is the spot with the best surf today, so I expect more people to show. Even though the crowd is thin, I really don’t want to be next to anyone. I sit at an empty spot and catch some dismal rides. I paddle south and invade a bearded guy’s territory. After he catches a wave, I move into his spot and catch the second one. I paddle further south for some isolation and score waves to myself. It’s about a foot smaller than yesterday and less punchy. I’m not generating the speed I need, so I’m mostly trimming and pumping. A long lull occurs, and I view my surroundings. Besides the river jetties, everyone is sitting just like me. Yeah, it’s gonna be one of those sessions. However, In between these lulls there are random sets that give some fun, little rides. I catch a couple waves back-to-back, but it unfortunately attracts a group of surfers on the sand and to my north. Now I’m surrounded. I keep looking around for the fellas, and it’s not until I see a longhaired guy on the sand that I spot Khang. They are sitting where I was earlier, and I want to tell them it’s better where I’m at. I paddle just within yards reach of them, but they can’t see my face because of the glare. It’s not until Dais returns from a ride that he sees me and says wassup. 

            I tell them it’s better where I was, but . . . it doesn’t really matter on a day like this I suppose. The lulls here are even longer, and I feel bad the guys came out to these present conditions. Again though, some random pulses come through, and we’re all scrambling to get some of it. I take a closeout going right. I try to pull a Francis and go for a backhand pinch in the tube, but instead the lip crashes right on top of me. It gives Klaude a good laugh. Oh well.

            Klaude has the right board for today, which is Rick’s Zippy Fish. Every time I think he’s gonna scratch out, he gets the slide. Today’s just not a day for turns, at least for me. One thing that kills my session is this kid that gets in my way. I’m in perfect position for a right. I have no idea what he’s doing, but he turns and sits right where I’m dropping in. He lets out a worrisome, “Whooooa!” because I’m about to drive into him. I have to slide off my board. “Which way were you going?” he asks.

            “Right,” I say with a pissed off look on my face. He says something after, but I don’t comprehend. He takes the situation like it’s no big deal. I carry this negative energy with me for about a half-hour. I want to kill him, but I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. It ruins my energy in the lineup. I remain quiet for a while. I’m not a tough guy, but I can see myself just taking him to the sand. And for what, I think to myself. I don’t want that bad karma. I think about my life and all the good things in it. I let it go as the next pulse comes by which leads to more rides. 

            It’s play time again. I watch Khang on a left. Dais paddles into it too but falls. When he’s next to me he says, “My hair got in the way when I popped up!” He mimics the motion with his hand, indicating his hair was between his palm and board.

“It’s a small price to pay for looking sexy,” I say. No sooner than we complain about the conditions, another pulse comes to eradicate it. Small, fun, and enough to say that today was worth it, we finally leave around 1030. 

            We stop in Fountain Valley for some Vietnamese food. I order the chicken pho which is only a whopping $3.50. I want to eat more, but I’m ashamed to say that I have no cash, and I don’t want to make splitting the bill difficult. If I had more cash I would have easily ate at least $15 worth of food. Klaude rides back with me because he parked by my apartment. Klaude says that Dave’s in town tomorrow, and he wants to surf. We don’t commit but say we’ll talk about it later. By tomorrow the swell will taper off even more to the point of an all out “lay day” for most surfers. Good things don’t last long. Bring on the next swell, please.