FAVORITE SPOT, SAT 28JAN2012 MOR

Loc: HB

Crew: Francis

Time: 0745-1000

Conditions: Low to mid tide, sunny, warm, offshore, 2-3 ft, fast, fun.

     Rick was the one that told me there would be a surf contest at 26^th St. Even though the report for surf was bigger in the South Bay, I didn’t want to deal with the crowds. I imagined how the contest would affect things—surfers being pushed to 33^rd or even Porto. Even though HB was forecasted to be a foot smaller, I thought it would be a good opportunity to use my parking pass and escape the local crowds. 

     On Friday night I texted everyone to see who was down to roll. Francis was the first confirmation, which is always expected of him. After not hearing from everyone else, Christina caught me online and said she got a new six-foot Zippy Fish. When I told her about the contest and the prospect of surfing HB, she said she’d join and meet Francis and me in the morning.

     It’s 0615 when I wake up. I already have a text. It’s Christina. She can’t make it. I’m the in car with the motor running at 0645, and there’s still no Francis. I wonder if he slept-in. When I call him, he’s right around the corner. We load up and start our morning drive. It looks like a slow SoCal morning. The day’s lookin’ out to be a clear one, and there are barely any drivers on the road. Usually in Huntington, there are other surfers all driving towards the beach, but on this morning there are only a few. I get the feeling that it might not be going off. 

     The lot for state parking looks like a ghost town. Even weekday mornings are more crowded than this; there even seems to be less people on the bike path. Silence overcomes us. I don’t say anything, but I have a feeling that we’re thinking the same thing. Two cars with surfers and surfboards are leaving, dry as a bone. When we park, there are some surfers checking the water. They return to their cars, walking slowly, with their hands in their pockets. Moving without a purpose, they give off a lame energy. 

     “What do you think?” I ask Francis. “Should we check it out first?”

     “Nah, you’re already suited up. I think we should just go for it.”

     Either he’s a good man or he’s in skunk denial. In the back of my mind I’m already thinking about heading back to surf local if it’s small here. 

     When we walk over the sand and finally reach the water, the worst of our fears is confirmed; it’s flat. There are a small group of surfers north of us, and a very, very light crowd at the river jetties. “Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I say. The tide’s barely coming up which gives a more drained out appearance, and that’s when the surf syndrome (SS) kicks in. We see a small peak roll through. It has a shoulder, but it’s small and breaking close to shore. A couple more peaks come in at different spots, still under three feet. I forget what we say to each other, but we reach the mutual agreement to make the best of things. 

     It’s the just the two of us in the lineup; we’re isolated. Two waves come that we both scratch-out on. We sit a little closer to the inside hoping it’s the sweet spot. I catch a right. It’s barely two feet, there’s a racy shoulder, but it closes before I get a turn. Paddling back, we see the first sign of any potential. A three-foot wave breaks on the outside. We’re too deep for it, so we have to duckdive. “There might be some fun ones,” I say. 

     I know this wave when it’s small, and today it comes in handy. At the first sign of a little bump, I start paddling for it already. Reliable as always, the wave jacks-up towards the inside, and I’m on a fast, shouldery, little left. It’s just under three feet, but the speed it generates is a welcoming platform for carves. Since it’s fast, I have to pump get to the shoulder. I do a semi-decent top-turn to end the ride. When I paddle back to the lineup I get another . . . and another. The third wave is a right, and I get a baby hack off the top. Sure, the swell’s not doing much here, but I imagine 26^th and Porto and how crowded it must be. Right now the surf is small, but the shape is good, and it’s just us. 

     We’re busy enough to be in our own worlds. I get a couple turns on another right when I notice some groms on the sand. Fuck, we may have made it look too good. A chick paddles right to our spot, and two other young boys follow behind. We go a little north to get away. 

     The window is good for the first hour. Little inside waves and random three-footers break far out. The crowd is still thin, and even though it’s not super consistent, the lulls aren’t long enough to make it a boring session. In other words, it’s not a wave buffet, but since we almost have all the waves to ourselves it feels like one.

Wave of the Day:

     I’m hunting for lefts all morning. I just love this wave. It starts off so small and just stands up. Fast and pumpy, I’d never expect so much potential for sub three-foot waves. 

     I get this left that just lines up all the way to shore. I have enough speed to project up the face with momentum, so I get my first turn in. After the first turn I stay active, pump, and keep going down the line. I do another carve. Sweet. I’m two turns in and still have momentum. I put a little English on the last one, stretching out my arms and using my body to get as much arch as possible. For me, I can’t end a ride any better. 

     For the first time, I’m feeling like my frontside is finally coming in.

     Stoked, I’m paddling back out and, déjà vu, Francis is going frontside on a right. He carves the lip, does an S-like pattern on the face, and cuts his board back at the base of the wave. Again, he’s flawless and smooth. Being with him pushes my surfing.

     It doesn’t get claustrophobic until we’re into the second hour. Now everyone wants to be out, but it doesn’t matter because they missed the good window. The rising tide actually slows down the surf; there’s just not enough swell for it. Francis and I had our fun; this morning was a score.

    

Grinds:

     Klaude and I agreed to make Bob’s Hawaiian one of our ritual stops after HB sessions. I tell Francis this because on this morning Klaude can only be here in spirit. When Klaude and I went it was packed, but on this morning it’s a small, mellow crowd. The waitresses in there recognize us because they’re already smiling when we step out of our cars. A live band is playing in the big room, and Francis leads us right in there. Three families are gathered for breakfast to support the band. At first I’m uneasy. I’d rather sit by the entrance away from everyone, but the festivities bring a sense of nostalgia. With our backs to the street and hearing the Hawaiian music, combined with the atmosphere, it feels like we’re in a local restaurant back home. 

     We exchange stories about Hawaii, and when the band takes a break, the lead singer, Miles, comes to our table to talk to us. 

     We’re full of surf, food, and aloha on the drive back home. It was probably the best small day ever. 

LOCAL OPTIONS, FRI 27JAN2012 MOR

Loc: PV

Crew: Khang

Time: 0845-1200

Conditions: High tide, mooshy, 4-5 ft, calm, glassy, sunny with light clouds, warm, and uncrowded.

Pre Blog:

     I apologize to anyone reading this that just wants to see how the surf was. When I write it’s not just about the water; it’s about life. Klaude told me that he revolves his life around surfing, and I’m realizing that my blogs are reflecting that. My day isn’t about school or about an errand; it all stems from surfing. So even though there are the moments that I write about the waves, there are a lot of moments that are about get-togethers, friendships, relationships, and other random things. Despite if I have zero followers or sixteen, I’d still be writing this. For those of you that log-on to see what Donny Duckbutter’s up to, I’m happy that you’re here, and I’m glad to share my life with you.

New Swell:

     Rick and I talked for about fifteen minutes yesterday. I think it’s funny. For a guy that can’t surf because he has to work, he sure takes an interest and has as much stoke as someone that’s about to paddle-out the next day. He told me I should go to Churches because it’s going to be good. He also said that the conditions would be perfect: offshore, sunny, and big. I told him that I had my heart set on PV because of the size. “PV?” he said. “Nah, Matt. That’s a mooshy wave, good for longboarders. You’re gonna need more board.”

Inaccurate:

     Khang shoots me a text at 0721 that reads: “Not too big at 26^th. Shape is also so so.” I head there myself at 0800 to take a look. It’s onshore. It’s not what the forecast called for, but the lifeguard station flags are blowing in an unfavorable direction. I take a look at the surf, and the wind is messing it up. Only a couple guys are out. I see Bruce with his binos in the lower lot.

     As I’m driving away I call Khang. He says he’s in the lot with DK. I ask if he wants to come to PV, but he tells me to let him know what it looks like when I get there. 

     I’m not sure what to think of this drive yet. There’s a lot of “stop-and-go.” I have to drive slow, but at least there’s some scenery to look at. 

     I stop at Haggerty’s first, and the swell isn’t big here. It’s about three to four feet but really clean. A small crowd is stationed at the point, and far off, almost by the sand, there’s another peak with guys towards the inside. I’ve never surfed here before, but the spacing looks a little tight. Even though I’ve heard that the crowd is mellow here, it looks like a perfect setup for localism; I’m pretty sure all those guys know each other.

     

     The Cove looks small. I’ve only surfed this place when it was six feet on the average, but it’s looking more like four to five. I shoot Khang an intel text and start changing. He texts me back to say that he’s staying home. A local from 26^th walks up the trail with his board. “No 26^th today?” I ask.

     “No . . . but it’s not that good down there right now.”

     “Really? It looks clean though.”

     “Yeah, but every time you get one there’s a longboarder on it. You need a lot of board. What are you riding?”

     I point towards the JS and say, “Ohhhh, my board’s pretty small for this.”

     I didn’t come out here for nothing. I’m pretty optimistic. I already know where I’m going, where I’ll sit, and I’m not asking for the world. All I want are a couple rides. I take the GoPro to take some stills. It’s just one of those slow, mellow days. I can feel it.

Good Moosh:

     I’ve never surfed PV at high tide. I can see a pack of longboarders sitting at the top of the wave, but I see a peak break wide to the north. That’s where I’m goin’. I already have my expectations. It’s clean, but with the lack of swell it’s really soft. I think this is the perfect place to go when the beach breaks are closing, but not so much when it’s small. It’s just too hard for me to gain speed without the size. Either way, the atmosphere has all the makings of an easy Friday morning. There’s free parking, the crowd’s not thick, there’s no wind here, the ocean looks smooth, and it’s just so damn quiet. Porto and 26^th definitely has more noise but not here. 

     I snap a couple pics of the trail, stash my slippers on the rocks, and make my way out. The rocks aren’t an issue with the high tide, but the paddle feels even longer than the last two times. Half way through, and my rear delts are burning. I wonder how I made it out so fast the last couple go-outs? 

     I sit wide and inside from everyone else. The top of the wave is more consistent, but I can’t compete against the longboards. Another guy and I wait for the scraps. 

     Surprisingly, the session starts off with consistent surf. I feel like the waves are too mooshy to let me in, but I scrape and kick until I’m sliding down. These waves are not critical, but soft, long trimmers. I practice my walking 360 but fall on the rotation. 

     A peak swings so far north that I’m in position to go right. It’s a soft, clean four footer. I concentrate on making the section, pumping the highline until I get to the shoulder. With speed, I carve off the top into a backside cutback and redirect down the line. The wave bogs out right after, but it’s one of the very few times that I’ve pulled off a decent rear-hand cutback. It only hits me now how paramount it is to come off the top of the shoulder with speed. The more rail, the faster and smoother it feels, but I still have a long way to go before this becomes natural.

     I enter a really long lull where nothing breaks towards me. I’ve only been in the water for an hour and a half, and I start thinking about leaving. I look over my right shoulder and see Khang paddling towards me. I say, “Oh shit! I thought you were staying home?”

     “Yeah, but I texted you back.”

     “You just looked for my car?”

     “Yeah, that’s pretty much all I did. Follow the coast and look for your ride.”

     It’s Khang’s first time here. I tell him that it’s slowed down a bit, but just as he enters the lineup a small set rolls through which gives us both waves. With his arrival, the lull ends. He doesn’t stay by me for very long. He paddles just outside of the main peak where everyone is at. 

     It’s a mixed bag of waves that are hard to predict. I gamble on the inside when they break late, and then clean-up sets form out the back. I work on my front side turns, but since the waves are mooshy, and I suck going left, I keep bogging out and falling on the carve. Khang gets a good set-wave going left. I raise my GoPro and rush to snap a pic.

Hard to tell, but that's Khang.

     We decide to call-it after a couple more. Just when I think that the session’s ending on a lame note, I get two lefts. The last one is my wave of the day. It’s only a four-footer, but it’s a little racy. I do my best not to fall, so I tighten up my pumps as I make it past the spilling lip. I look at the wave and have a face to work with. I project up towards my top turn, use my arms for as much torque as possible, and do a decent frontside carve. By no means is it “solid,” but what stands out about this one is that I redirect, pump, and keep momentum; I DON’T BOG OUT! Fuck, it feels so god damn good! I usually stall really bad after the turn. I think the key here is that I used more rail—“I think.” With my momentum I keep pumping and do another carve, but I bog because the wave is done. I’m sure the ride itself didn’t look spectacular, but for me it’s a milestone. 

     Going up the trail, Khang’s feet are being torn apart from the rocks. I offer to share one of my slippers. He refuses, so I leave it behind and walk away, forcing him to take it. “Hey, having one slipper helps!” he says. 

     I do the mellow drive back home, stopping at the signs, letting people pass. An old guy waves at me for letting him go. I’m just cruising through the South Bay, no rush. Everything is better by the beach. It’s sunny and seventy-four degrees. All my windows are rolled down, and the sunroof’s open. I can get used to this routine.  

OFF, WED 25JAN2012 MOR

Crew: Khang & Francis

Time: 0900-1030

Conditions: High tide, mooshy, 4 ft, offshore, sunny, warm, and crowded.

     I stayed up pretty late handling stuff for school, so instead of getting up at first light, I thought I’d prioritize my rest, seeing as how I have homework to do now. The only thing is that I know high tide is around 0900, so there’s a chance it will be mooshy. When I wake up at 0800, I have texts from Khang and Francis. They’ve already been there for a half an hour. I’m so lethargic in the mornings now. I used to be “Morning Matt,” but I don’t know about that any more. I get VIP parking by the lifeguard station. A surfer who’s also suiting up behind me asks me a bunch of questions about my wagon. He drives a monster truck. It’s probably the fifth time this has happened, and I’m proud to talk about how my car’s been the perfect surf mobile. 

     The waves look mooshy, but it’s pretty consistent. I spot the boys easy, and I watch Francis’ frontside attack as I paddle out. He carves the lip, crouches, shifts his weight on the tail for the turn, and redirects his nose down the line, all with speed, never missing a beat. It’s exactly what I’ve been working on, but he’s already had this smooth and down pat for quite some time. I can’t help but be a little envious. Knowing Francis, he’s so chill and mellow, and then he just tears it up in the water. What an alter ego, like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Maybe if I just relax and be chill it will enhance my surfing ability. . . . Doubt it. 

     When I paddle up to him, he says that it’s still pretty good right now. It’s a little crowded for a Wednesday morning. I go for a couple waves but have to back-out because guys are already on them. Khang’s sitting a little north of 26^th where’s there’s more people. I’m not catching waves anyway, so I blow up his spot. I ditch my board, dive under the water, and try to surprise him, but when I resurface he says, “Awwwww, I saw the GoPro!” My board blew my cover. He says it was better earlier, and that the inside was really brutal when the tide was lower. We lose focus in conversation, and a wave is about to break in front of us. I try to turn-and-go, but I’m too late, so I wipeout. It’s not the best way to start a surf session. Guys on the shoulder must have been like, “Look at this kook.”

     I’m struggling, scratching out on a lot of waves. Even the guy with the monster truck is scoring. Every time I’m in position, someone else is on it. Like a conveyor belt, Francis and Khang are on fire. The monster truck guy compliments Khang on his last wave. I hate sessions like this, the “off” ones, but I guess we all gotta have them. I’m constantly sitting in the wrong place, or when I avoid the crowd it’s in a spot where it’s not breaking. Meanwhile, I’m watching everyone else going to and from the lineup like their on a gondola. 

     Francis tells me that he’s catching his last one in. When I finally catch a right, all I can do is pump. I’m waiting for the wave to shape-up for a turn, but it doesn’t happen. It’s a long ride but turnless. Francis is by the tower, watching us before he goes. I don’t know if he’s just watching the surf, but I tell myself that he knows I’m sucking this morning, and he’s just being a good friend watching me catch a wave. He does that sometimes. He’ll surprise me the next day and talk about a wave I caught after he already left. 

     The water’s good for other things. It’s brings friends together, and I vent to Khang about my problems at home. He’s studied psychology in college, so he listens attentively. It feels good to get things off my chest. He gives me some advice, and I plan to take it home with me.

     I paddle in when Khang does. He reaches the sand before me, and catching my “last one” is taking forever, so I paddle in, catch some white wash, and do my patented Donny Duckbutter Funky Chicken. I think it’s an awesome surf maneuver, guaranteed to turn a couple heads or at least raise an eyebrow or two.

     Back at the house, Lauren and I have a long talk and reach an understanding. Saving the details, I’m feeling much better now; we both are. I think it will help out my surfing.