SOUTHERN GAMBLE (double sesh), SAT 05NOV2011 NOON

Location: Churches

Crew: Klaude

Time: 1330-1630, 2 hrs & 30 min

Conditions: Calm wind, 3 feet with occasional 4, clean, low tide, consistent.

            After engorging ourselves, we head straight back to where we parked earlier. There’s an open spot, but some guy has his board and board bag lying in the middle of it. I turn on my signal and wait. It seems rude of myself, but the guy hurries to put his stuff away. I thank him as we pull in. What a difference a couple hours can make. The tide is low, exposing the shallow cobblestones that were submerged in the morning. Also, the wind has died, and the peaks are lining up much cleaner in front of Churches. Though a little smaller, it looks more fun. The guys parked next to us can tell we’re stoked, and they say, “It’s only gonna get better.” It’s a nice way to start the afternoon energy. Rick calls, we give him the update, and he tells us to hurry and get out there. The only problem is that my stomach is so full from those pancakes and potatoes. We take our time. While suiting up, a longboarder chick that’s packing up to leave starts talking to Klaude. I go into automatic non-cockblock mode and lurk in the shadows while they converse. Eavesdropping on the whole conversation, I smear sunblock all over my face and neck; some even gets on my chest. 

            Klaude wants to paddle out right at Churches. It’s probably the best option, but I am adamant on at least looking elsewhere to escape the crowd. We end up just south of Middles at the edge of Churches. The lineup is empty, and the prospects look promising. On the paddle out, I turn and go on a small little left. No turns, but it’s a fun little corner to start things off right. Once we reach the line, we learn that it’s a little bigger than we thought. Some plus sized waves break towards the outside leaving us out of position. It’s so odd. Trestles isn’t acting like its usual self. Some waves are actually fast with steep drops. 

            For the first part of the session, I can’t recall any standout waves for myself. All I know is that we must have sold the spot, because at least six people paddle out to crowd our empty peak. There’s this old guy probably in his fifties, bald, but fucking ripping. The problem with him is that he’s fuckin’ greedy. It’s not just Klaude and I, but barely anyone else is catching waves because of him. At the same time, how can you not respect an old dude that rips . . . more than you do? I paddle further north to get some breathing room. I keep looking back at Klaude, who’s switched to Rick’s Zippy Fish, to see if he’s catching. Half the time I can’t find him, so I know he must be catching a lot. At my new spot, I get back-to-back waves. Most importantly, I finally get a really good left. The ride doesn’t look like much, but I negotiate around the white wash, bottom turn, shift my weight to the tail, and get a little arc off the top. When I redirect down the line, my board feels bouncy and responsive; my feet are where they need to be. I pump, feeling the board come up under my legs as my knees adjust. I get one last turn at mid-face and feel my tail drift a little as my ride ends. Fuckin’ A, this whole day that’s all I wanted. Well . . . I would’ve welcomed an all day buffet of lefts like this, but I have to be thankful for what’s been given. The whole day, everything, this wave gives me the opportunity to do some front side work; I am satisfied. 

            Around 1600, the onshore wind turns on which makes the peaks long and racy. I see Klaude on the sand, so I catch a closeout in. He says, “Man . . . I’m so tired. I caught so many waves. My triceps even started cramping, that’s the only reason I got out.” There’s no doubt that Klaude got more than his fair share today, and my morning pessimism is erased by the afternoon surf. On the way home, we stop for some Jamba Juice and exit the 105 into El Segundo while the last remnants of light fade away. It’s a day of mixed feelings and emotions capitalized on unexpected good conditions in the end. It’s what gambles are all about. 

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.