CAR CAMPING, (double) WED 28MAY2014

I couldn't even surf until dark, but I came close. 

Loc: San Onofre, Churches, and Trestles

Crew: Khang

Conditions: overcast, glassy, 3-4 FT+, inconsistent

     I wake up at 0439 with only four hours of sleep. The plan is for Khang to meet me at my place by 0500 so we can convoy together. After brushing my teeth, I shoot him a text. He’s not going to make it on time.

     My car is already preloaded with all my goodies, so I make myself a cup of coffee, kiss Bri, and head out the door. The clock reads 0502 at the start of the engine, and it’s sixty-eight degrees already. It’s proving to be a warm summer so far.

     It’s nice being up this early for the thrill of a legit dawn patrol. I have a long drive to San Onofre, and I hope to be in the water within the hour.

     When I reach Churches, I give Khang a call. He’s still at home.

     Surfline had pumped this swell up to be a good one, literally fair-to-good conditions according to them. Even Magicseaweed had a forecast of four-to-six feet for the morning. However, the surf isn’t macking like I had expected. There are only a few heads out, and the lullometer is all the way in the red because everyone is just sitting and waiting. The gray, overcast sky doesn’t help. Some people park next to me, get out to check the surf, and then leave. A set approaches, and it looks decent. Easily three-to-four feet. I whip out the Motorboat Too and anticipate some powerful backhand snaps.

     In my 3/2, the water feels warm, even though it’s barely past six in the morning. A pack of surfers sit at the top of the wave while a scant line of surfers sit at the last peak on the southern end. I sit in between. Lines start coming in from the outside, sectiony and walled from corner to corner, stretching across the whole break. The set waves are big, a legit five feet. Surfline was right about the size but not about the quality. Plenty of surfers paddle for waves, but the waves are so wide that they can’t get around them. I try to get down the line too, but I keep falling behind.

     I go in and swap out my Futures Black Sticks for Khang’s AM2’s, a bigger set of fins. Upon returning to the lineup, I feel how the board has more drive. I’m able to crank some single-turn rides, feeling more rooted and more grip at the top of my snap.

     I haven’t had a watch for a few days now, so I don’t know what time it is when Khang shows up. All I know is that the tide went from low to mid already, and the extra water has brought on another massive lull. Sets still show, fewer and far between, but when they do, they have some size and power. Khang and I trade off waves until about 1100.

My favorite San Clemente spot for post-surf fuel--La Tiendita. Khang opts for the torta. 

Khang told the lady that I had just graduated, and she hooked us up for four more donuts for free.

#

     After lunch, we come back and chill in front of Churches. The sun’s burnt off the marine layer, turning the day sunny and bright. Even the air is hot, so hot that Khang braves the conditions by trunking it. He suggests I do the same, but I refrain and use my torn 2/2 short-sleeve full. Upon paddling out, I’m burning up. Around us, guys are in full suits and booties.

     Khang decides to paddle towards the main pack, but I remain in the middle of the wave. With the tide going low to high again, the afternoon is much more consistent than it was this morning. I connect two-turns on each wave, even passing up some to make sure the guys at the bottom of the wave get theirs. I can see Khang paddling for waves, but it’s so crowded where he is. He has to compete with so many longboarders. Even a grom snakes him on a good right.

     At about 1700, the incoming tide brings in another lull. It also brings in the cloud cover just like this morning.

     After saying my goodbyes to Khang, I head to Old Mans and paddle out. I expect the surf here to be much better than Churches. It’s consistent, but the waves are so soft that I can’t get into them. I even sit deep and still no. Other longboarders stare at me. I’m the only shortborder. Meanwhile, the longboarders are killing it. Maybe if I had my fish I’d have a chance, but I don’t, so I do the “paddle of shame” in.

     I skip Churches this time and head straight to Middles. The plan is to surf Lowers when the sun goes down, but Middles has some decent peaks working here too. The crowd here is sparse, so I barely have to pass any waves up. For a change I get lefts. They’re not long, but the sections stand up. I pump and set up for one nasty carve. I feel so strong on my frontside turns that I’ll put my Layback Snap on the shelf for a while. It might be too early to start doing that. I’m probably not ready.

     I suffer a tremendous wipeout, purling on a right and landing into a thick mass of kelp. I’m so entangled that I have to take the next wave on the head.

     I feel the length of the day finally come over me. Because of the long days, the evening/afternoon session lasts forever. There’s still some daylight left when I get back to my car, but I punch out. I’m done.

#

     After dinner, I walk to the empty bathrooms and brush my teeth with only the sound of my toothbrush bristles breaking the silence. I miss my warm bed. I miss my woman. I miss my friends. I miss hot showers and dry feet, clean of any sand. I miss my tiny studio apartment. But being out here, car-camping it, I learn to appreciate everything I have at home and home itself. I love surfing, but I’m still incomplete and unbalanced, and I’ll keep myself away from home for a night just because I miss it so much. I walk back to my car with the cool ocean air on my face and arms, the only sound now the rustling of leaves and the rubber from my slippers. Being truly alone sometimes can be healthy too. There’s no bullshit out here, just me paying attention to my quiet thoughts and letting my mind function freely.

     My wetsuits are hanging outside next to my car. My sleeping bag and pillow are laid out. My right hip and lower back ache from today’s purls and wipeouts. Even though I miss home, I know that when this trip is over, I’ll look forward to doing it again.

Biggie's Burgers in San Clemente. Burger combo with drink is under $8. I'll be back.

Five-star accomodations

A RETURN TO HB PT.II, MON 26MAY2014

Loc: Huntington Beach

Time: 0700-0900

Crew: Bri & Klaude

Conditions: overcast, glassy, 2-3 FT+

     Bri and I meet Klaude and his friends, Pat and Pete, near Magnolia. We check the surf, and it looks smaller than yesterday but still surfable. I brought the bigger AM2 Futures fins that Khang had leant me, but I opt to leave my small fins in because the surf isn’t calling for it.

     Pat is Klaude’s roommate’s boyfriend, the guy who invited Klaude to the Oaxaca surf trip just weeks ago. He and Pete are firefighters . . . ripping firefighters. Upon paddling out, I see Pete going backhand on a right. His curly red hair and wide mustache makes him look like a boxer from the nineteen thirties, wearing high trousers with suspenders. He gets two snaps before the wave closes out. Pat kills it too, making the down the line on the fast sections, milking everything. Even Bri’s kicking ass on her 6’10” NSP, easily getting a higher wave count than I.

     Like yesterday, I struggle on my Motorboat Too. The surf looked small earlier, but now, the sets are coming in close to yesterday’s size. I fall behind the sections. Going down the line, my board and I are not in sync. I curse myself for not putting in the bigger fins.

     On a sectiony left, it’s breaking into Klaude’s right. Before kicking out, I get perfect view of Klaude pulling in on his frontside, fueled with a newfound aggression after his trip down in Mex.

     When Klaude and his friends leave, I want to stick around a little longer and swap my fins out. I eat shit on another wave and swallow water upon resurfacing. The second wave of the set approaches. Bri is on the inside, heading towards the sand. I head in too.

     We eat pho on Brookhurst on the way home. Usually I’m stoked for the fifty-percent off pho, but the noodles are hard and the meat tough, but maybe it just tastes that way. The way my board felt today was like the way it had felt when I had taken it out last winter during a big swell at Porto. The board just wasn’t working right. Despite sliding out, the board didn’t ride well.

     Dipping my chicken into some hoisin sauce, I think about the last two sessions I’ve surfed here. It’s not an issue with the fins. I have a whole quiver at home, different boards for different conditions. It’s time to put them to use. As fond and connected as I am to the mana of my MB Too, I need to be wiser in my board selection.

     I take a big bite out of the chicken. The hoisin sauce saves the chicken, making it sweet and salty at the same time. It doesn’t taste so bad. 

A RETURN TO HB, SUN 25MAY2014

Loc: Huntington Beach

Time: 00800-1030

Crew: Khang

Conditions: overcast, glassy, inconsistent, 2-4 FT

     Khang, who has a rare day off, picks me up at 0630 to head to Huntington. I barely get to see him nowadays because of his nine-to-five life. He barely gets to surf either, but that’s just life—you need money to survive.

     Cruising down PCH, Seapoint is small. There are signs of surf north and south of the pier. With the hundred dollars I had received, from my homeboy Dan as a graduation gift, I immediately put it to use to pay half the amount for a state parking pass, money well spent. It’s perfect timing for the summer, since the South Bay has only gotten minimal traces of windswell as of late.

     “Should we check it first?” I say. I want to check it.

     “We’re gonna surf here anyway, right? Let’s just suit up.”

     Usually I’m the one who’s frothing to paddle out, but Khang has me on this one.

     Since it’s Memorial Day weekend, there are surfers scattered along the stretch of scattered sandbars. But River Jetties isn’t so random, as it’s breaking three feet and consistent to our south.

     It’s an overcast morning, but the water is warm around my ankles. Despite the high tide, glassy A-frame peaks sprout up and pitch once they hit the sandbar. The gray sky makes it hard to see the waves. We both misposition ourselves; our timing is off. We’re either too deep, too far out, or we miss the waves entirely.

     Once we get used to the way the surf is breaking, Khang draws first blood. He goes backhand, getting a small snap before the wave closes out. Peaks sprout up so randomly that we luckily find ourselves in the right spot. My wave of the day is a frontside left. I get down the line, tagging the lip and tossing some water out the back before it closes out.

     Initially, my board selection seems right. I’ve fallen back in love with my Motorboat Too, arguably a groveler. For the rest of the morning I try to pull in, but I keep getting pinched. I take some beatings, getting glimpses of the swirling almond before it cinches down on me. My brother had told me that I should be able to ride this board in hollow surf. I told him that the MB Too slides out in big waves. He said to just use bigger fins. This board’s been great at Porto, but not so great in waves that have more of a vertical face.

     We expect the surf to get better with the lowering tide, but instead the surf turns increasingly inconsistent. With the lack of HB’s trademark current, surfers sit in place waiting. And then the wind picks up.

     After some Vietnamese sandwiches (banh mi), we reflect on the session. It was fun, definitely better than what the South Bay had to offer, but I know that I, myself, didn’t surf well. I had recently done a close examination of my boards, and I had it figured out, so why am I riding the wrong board for HB?