INTEL, FRI 13JUN2014

Loc: Huntington Beach

Time: 0630-0900

Weiner Sliders: Gary C. and Donny D.

Conditions: light onshore, textured surface, low tide, semi consistent, sectiony, 2-3FT.

     I had debated on going back to HB, but Gary sent me a text last night, saying that if I drove that he’d cover gas and food. The offer to chip in for gas helps. As much as I love scoring surf down south, I sure as hell hate the hurting it puts on my wallet. And as far as food, well, a Filipino eating machine like me can’t ever pass on a meal.

     I show up to Gar’s house a little early at 0509, and he’s already in his driveway hauling a boardbag in each hand. Years ago, Rick used to try to get me to join him and his buddies, the WHC, for surf sessions. I had my own crew, and still do, so at first I was reluctant. Over time, I realized what Rick’s true intention was. You progress faster when being around good surfers, and I can name off the whole WHC, and all of them rip, even in their fifties they’re schooling the youngsters.

     Gar gives me the whole DL about his Costa Rica trip, which will remain classified. I picture the reeling long lefts that he’s describing to me, and it makes me froth for my next surf trip overseas. As appealing as Costa sounds, my heart’s in East Java. It’s hard to beat two-minute lefts on a sand-bottom pointbreak. Meals on the economy are less than a buck, two bucks to dine like a dictator. Anyway, that’s another story.

     So Manny A. had given us intel on a spot that’s working in HB. Apparently, it was firing and empty yesterday, and I believe him, but as soon as Gar and I hit PCH we see that the wind is onshore. Scoring parking on the beach, we can see textured peaks, not as big as it was a couple of days ago. I think Gar knows what I’m thinking, and I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing I’m thinking, but we don’t kill the moment. We don’t rush, in hopes that the conditions will improve. Before I’m in my wetsuit, Gary’s already rushing the sand. I bust out my 6’3 JS, my Bali board. I haven’t ridden it since the winter of 2012 when it got dinged up pretty bad, and since its repair, I’ve been itching to get reacquainted with it.

     There are peaks coming in, and even though the water has a slight chop to it, there are some fast and steep shoulders that open up for a single turn or down-the-line pump action. Gary draws first blood, despite his elbow being worn out from so much surfing. I get a couple lefts, and catching waves is easy on the JS, but the length feels awkward. My Motorboat Too is a 5’9 and my Mini Driver is a 6’0, so the extra three inches just feels like too much. I try to at least climb the face before my waves closeout, and the nose just feels more purl-prone. After forty-five minutes, I run back to the car to switch boards. JS, I’ll have to figure out what to do with you. . .

     There are Germans in the water. I can’t understand what they’re yelling about, but they’re pointing outside and yelling what sounds like: “SHAAAAAA-HK! SHAAAAA-HK!” I look at what they’re pointing at. It’s a seal. Another surfer looks at me and raises his eyebrows. One of the Germans snakes me on a left. After the waves closes out, he resurfaces, raises his open palm, and says sorry. I hate getting snaked, but a post-snake apology really helps in diffusing the situation. But Gary, on the other hand, gets legit snaked by some grom in a neon-green wetsuit. It’s pretty bad.

     I don’t get any solid waves that line up nicely for a carve fest, but it’s still worth being down here, much better than what the South Bay has to offer for now.

     Back at the car, Gary whips out some Costco muffins. When I drop him off, he tells me that there’s one more in the bag that he’ll leave for me. Money for gas, muffins for my stomach, mission accomplished.   

SOUTH BAY SUMMER, THU 12JUN2014

Loc: El Porto

Time: 0645-0820

Conditions: light onshore, 1-2 FT, warm, empty, inconsistent.

     Oh, my South Bay, how you once had waves. It’s hard to imagine how good the winter was to the local surfing populace.

     I’m at 26^th Street for my dawn patrol. Only one guy is paddling out. Weak crumbly lines are rolling in. The peaks are like weak clawing fingers, swiping instead of gouging.

     I drive to Porto. A set rolls through at three feet but sectiony. Did I see a shoulder? It looks good enough. Surface conditions are fairly clean with a light texture.

     Under the overcast sky, I sit and wait. My first few waves are weak, but the inside stands up a little. I fail at my layback snap attempts. On one, I completely back flop onto my board. I turn to shore where a lifeguard truck is parked and watching. I turn back around, acting like I didn’t notice how stupid I looked.

     I do have a miraculous two-turn wave of the day. My Motorboat Too works so well out here. I get an arcing top turn on the open shoulder. I’ve been getting better at this. Where the eyes go, the shoulders go, and then the hips and the feet follow. It’s nice. Instead of a layback attempt on the inside, I reach back with my forehand and just lean backwards, shifting my weight as I transfer from my inside to outside rail. I don’t ride out of it, but I get that extra torque on the arc, whipping the tail a little more. Practice makes perfect.

     I want another wave just like that one so badly, but that’s it. The South Bay is closed for breakfast. Even funboarders and foamers sit on the inside, their surf appetites unquenched.

     I return to a near-empty parking lot. How sad. Meanwhile, I know HB is working. I’m spoiled, having had my recent sessions there. I can only imagine how good it is down south right now. In the winter, the South Bay shines. In the summer, we have to pay the price to travel. Tomorrow I’ll be there.  

SOUTH SWELL’S OFFICIAL, WED 11JUN2014

Loc: Huntington Pier, Northside

Crew: Dais, Khang, Hideki and the HB Gang

Time: 0645-1015

Conditions: light onshore, 3-4 FT, warm, crowded, semi consistent.

     I had called for everyone to meet at my place at 0530. My phone starts ringing at 0536. I pick it up. It’s Khang. I’ve slept in. “Is Dais here?” I say.

     “Nah, he’s not here yet. Take your ti-ime.”

     I can hear his smile over the phone, but I’m not smiling. Blame it on the Rich Chocolate Ovaltine that I drank last night before going to bed. I had a hard time going to sleep after that.

     We’re on the road by 0545, three guys, three boards in my surf wagon. We stop at Goldenwest first for a look over the railing. It’s a gray overcast morning. The wind is light sideshore from the south. Sectiony peaks break in front of us nice and clean. At the pier, we see the lefts peeling from the northside. There are heads in the water.

     I suggest we use my state parking pass and push it further south. Stopped at a red light at the intersection on PCH and Main, I see a surfer in a short-sleeve full wetsuit running towards the pier, board in arm. It’s Manny A., Rick’s brother. I yell at him out the window. He’s surfing the pier.

     Two blocks later, I make the call to turn around. We know that the pier is working. My other HB spot is a gamble. Might be uncrowded but might not be as good. The clock’s ticking. Have to paddle out ASAP.

     We paddle out north of the tower. The surf looks decent, a solid three-to-four feet, but . . . it’s much more crowded than it was when I had surfed it last week with Hideki.

     Upon reaching the lineup I see Chris, Hideki’s homie. He says that earlier was a little better and more consistent, standing up more. Hideki paddles up to me a few minutes later and says the same thing.

     So I’ve brought the South Bay DRC to HB. Hideki is now the official Huntington Beach Rep of the group.   

     The waves may have been better earlier, but they are still good. I choose to sit with the pack. There’s a technique to it. The current pulls everyone north a little, or they catch a left that pulls them away from the lineup. A gap is created. As the other surfers paddle closer to the pier, I shoot in that gap. I let everyone scatter for the first couple waves of the set, and then I at least have one for myself out the back. I sit outside.

     On my Lost Mini Driver with the quad setup, I take my first bomb left. I bottom turn deeply and shift my weight for a carving top turn, but I feel sluggish. It turns into a check turn. On the inside, I get a baby turn to finish.

     Dais and Khang sit a little more north where there are less people, but I continue my carousel, sitting closer to the pier, catching a wave, and then paddling back. I’m doing okay despite the crowd, and I even choose to sit away from my spot for a while to ensure that I’m sharing.

     After spending so much time on my Motorboat Too, my Mini Driver just feels too big. Even at 174 lbs., this is too much board for me. My surfboard perspective has shifted since riding my smaller boards. The question is, which board in my quiver is the right one now?

     Hours fly by. What was an overcast morning is now full on summer sunshine. I’m burning up in my wetsuit. So is Dais. I attempt a layback snap, the right way this time. Hideki sees this attempt. “Did you stick it?” he asks afterwards when I resurface. I didn’t. The board was under my feet while I was lying back, but I came unstuck underwater. Regardless, it feels good that I’m trying and that it’s an identifiable effort.

     By 1000 the light onshore is enough to create some surface chop. The waves aren’t as clean as this morning, and now it’s more inconsistent.

    Ending the session, we hit up Pho Vie. Gotta have Vietnamese food when you’re surfing around here. It’s a travesty not to, for your stomach and your wallet since it’s so cheap.

     It’s a rare occasion, surfing with these two guys, having the whole morning to ourselves. HB is working right now. Hopefully we can come back for more. Oh, and DRC is not dead either.