TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY PT. I, MON 23JUN2014

Loc: Churches

Conditions: Scorching hot, 3-4 FT.

     After attending Klaude’s belated birthday party last night, we could only manage to wake up at 0600. However, we had pre packed my wagon the night before.

     Exiting Basilone Road, we took a peek at Lowers. The famed wave was working, but Middles was flat. It could’ve been a lull.

     We reached Churches. The tide was coming up. A pack of longboarders sat at the south end of the Point as a peaky three-footer broke through the swampy conditions. The wave was clean, a classic Churches wave. Then a similar wave broke a little further out. Suddenly, a set rolled in, creating scattered A-frame peaks throughout the whole break. I texted Rick to give him a report and changed right after.

     Our favorite spot, Mons Pubis, used to be empty, but now everyone knows about it. We paddled just north of the crowd to sit outside of them. Waves still swung wide, but the rights were a little walled and not lined up well. I picked off the random lefts, as I always do, and managed to connect a couple carves. Even though I’ve had some breakthroughs on my frontside turns, I decided to surf conservatively instead of forcing miracles. Once the wind turned onshore, we headed back to check in and set up camp.

     Bri treated me to Mexican brunch at La Tiendita. After that I was so full that a nap was mandatory. Underneath the shade of an umbrella and facing the ocean just feet away, I was burning hot. The sand, the air, the sun, the shade, everything was scorching. I’d doze off only to wake up in hangover-like discomfort. I found Bri in the tent, miserably lying on our inflatable mattress. I told her we needed to paddle out to cool off.

     We paddled out at Churches in trunks and rashguards. The initial shock upon submersion was freezing, but by the time I reached the lineup, I was warm. The water felt silky and smooth over my arms, like its consistency had been changed by its temperature.

     The tide was coming up again, and the consistent surf was reduced to small and weak lumps, but something odd happened. With the increasing tide, the swell actually got bigger. There were 3-4 FT peaks, but most of them were breaking section on section. I managed a few turns, but it was more of a going-down-the-line kind of session.

     We got out at 1800 after the tide got too high. After showering and getting resettled, we still had over an hour of daylight left to burn. It was the first time that we had been done surfing so early. We didn’t have to cook in the dark or even cook at all. Bri was down to just PB&J it for the night. After we scarfed our sandwiches down, we threw some saimin over the burner and shared it. Our one bundle of firewood lasted into the evening. In the past, we had packed more gear and cooked so much food, but this minimalistic approach made things so much easier. But we still had our Wenzel Instabed. In our sleeping bags, we sank in the middle towards each other over a huge cushion of air.

     So the forecast had been overrated, but everything had met summer expectations. On a quiet Monday, with only the few shrill screams of the kids a few campsites down, we fell asleep to the sound of the roaring ocean just yards away. 

WEAK WINDSWELL, SUN 22JUN2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 1000-1130

Crew: Bri

Conditions: onshore, crowded, sunny, warm, 1-2 FT.

     Figuring that a dawn patrol would be a waste for tiny conditions, Bri and I slept in and headed to the beach late. Too bad the whole South Bay community had the same idea.

     There was no street parking anywhere. The same cars zoomed past, all in the same chase for a space. An old lady was standing in an empty spot yelling into her cell phone, holding it for whomever she was talking to. I gave up and went to Porto. Lot closed. All the residential streets surrounding MB was chaos.

     We finally went to a parking area that I refer to as my “Secret Garden” and found a spot immediately. Only issue was the long walk.

     The beach was packed, a typical summer day with blazing hot sun, teenage ass, and bare-backed studs strutting their shiny buff chests. The only local I knew that was out was an old lady who rides a Costco foamie and wears a boonie hat. The rest of the crowd was day trippers, most of them in wetsuits.

     I had prepared for the small surf, rocking the hand-me-down 6’8 NSP that my friend Dais had let Bri borrow. Armed with a funboard, I braced the tiny onshore conditions.

     Surprisingly, I had a lot of fun. It’s nice to ride something different when the conditions call for it. The NSP made the small surf feel punchy. The speed upon sliding down the face made for fun rides. I tried walking the nose but couldn’t quite get my toes over. I’m a terrible cross stepper and don’t plan on ever mastering it. But even though people were in my way, I was able to turn the bulky board and steer the nose away from them.

     There was one kid learning how to surf. He tried paddling for every wave, flailing while his legs dragged off the sides of his deck. I took a right, and even though he saw that I was on it, he still went for it and wiped out right in front of me. I steered out of his way. He looked at me and smiled, not knowing that he had just committed a surf etiquette no-no. But I didn’t want to be a “regulator,” so I left a few waves after.

     Walking back up the hill later, the noob and his homeboy drove by in their truck. Their boards were in the back while they joked and laughed with red burnt faces. Their eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses. They had surfed like shit, but sitting in their seats, they sure looked like they knew how to rip. 

SAW A SHARK AND GOT OUT, SAT 21JUN2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0600-0800

Crew: Bri

Conditions: glassy, clean, 1-2 FT.

     There were rumors that the recent windswell was good, so I decided to stay local, especially since I had a camp trip scheduled the following week. As appealing as HB sounded, I didn’t want to burn the gas.

     Upon arriving at Manhattan Beach, there were small lines rolling in consistently, in front of the tower and to the north and south. I hoped that the lowering tide would make the waves stand up better as the morning went on.

     There were already surfers sitting on both sides of the tower. As small as the waves were, there were occasional sets almost three-feet. The fat peaks broke close to shore but lined up for a few pumps. I managed one left and went down the line.

     I waved at one of the locals who I know, an older guy named Jon who wears a Rastafarian rashguard. He shot me a shaka back. I meant to talk to him, but upon looking back, he was walking back onto the shore and looking behind him. Pretty soon four other guys who had been surfing with him also got out. Everyone had his eyes on the water, and I already had a feeling on what was up.

     It was one of those moments where I could’ve chosen to be a bitch and gotten out. Or, I could’ve been an idiot if my life was in danger, but I ignored the obvious warning.

     I paddled to the spot where they were all at, and then I caught another small left. Only two other guys had refused to get out. They were talking to each other, mumbling about how the other guys were bitches.

     Jon paddled back out, pointed next to him in the water, and said that there had been a shark right there. The other guys on the shore left.

     I was comfortable staying in the lineup knowing that there were a lot of other people out. A swimmer in the water was flagged down by some SUP guys who warned him about the shark. The swimmer swam closer to shore.

     I looked back at Jon. He was gone. Something had really spooked him.

     Later in the session, the waves didn’t improve much. I waited for the waves that never came.

     Out in front of me, the tip of a dorsal and tail fin poked out of the water, disturbing the surface as it wiggled past. An SUP guy raced after it and pulled out his GoPro to take pics of it. It was just a baby.