MY ENDLESS SUMMER, PT.7 FRI 01AUG2014

Missing Heats

Loc: El Porto

Time: 0600-0745

Conditions: 1-3FT, offshore, crowded.

     Yesterday was good. That’s what everyone from the WHC who had paddled out at first light said. In the midst of my recent unsuccessful sessions, I had decided to sit this one out. Bad call. So this morning, I’m not gonna miss it.

     I park at the usual rendezvous spot at 0545, but none of the guys are here. I understand why. None of them committed to surfing this morning, and I had missed my heat yesterday, but I’m chancing it to see if any of them will show. Regardless, solo or not, I suit up anyway.

     Walking between the El Porto homes, I can see small lines coming in. No one’s in the water yet. A group of groms finish warming up and dart towards the break in front of the bathrooms. A guy to my north starts walking out to the lineup in front of Rosecrans. I warm up and watch the water. Surprisingly, the surf is consistent, but only with the smaller waves. A three-footer finally breaks, but since the tide is low, it’s breaking fast and close to shore. It still looks fun.

     The water’s warm enough to roast me in my 3/2 wetsuit. I’ve been on a wave drought for quite some time, so I’m ready to catch something. One and two footers roll past me, crashing on the inside. It takes a while.

     The longboarders start coming out. So does Team Costco. Finally, I get one of the bigger waves, but right upon popping up, the wave closes out over the shallow inside.

     I’m hoping that the tide push will improve things. An hour and a half later, the surf is improving just a little.

     An old guy on a longboard looks at me and shrugs.

     “You surf yesterday?” I say.

     “Yeah. It was better yesterday. Not ‘good’ but better. More waves.” He turns around and catches a little right and gets to the open face. He paddles back, flagging his friend down. “I finally got one!”

     I’m in position for a right that has a decent shoulder to it. I pop up and aim down the line. A shortboarder pulls out for me. It’s a racy ride, so my best bet is to see if I can stick a floater as the wave closes out, but this fucking Team Costco guy paddles into the shoulder. “Hey, hey,” I say. But he keeps going and straightens out.

     I try not to let the Team Costco Rider ruin my morning, for the waves already suck. Why be so upset?

     I make do with the waves that I have, mostly going left and trying to get turns on the closeouts or baby floaters.

     By the time I leave, I see that 45^th is packed. There’s a crowd around me now. The surf seems to be getting a little better, but I have to be out by 0800.

     I return to a parking lot, just as vacant as it was when I had first arrived. To think that yesterday the surf was better, and at this exact time, the parking lot was filled with my buddies, probably shooting the shit over the good session while letting loose a couple snakes from their towels. From now on, I gotta start showing up for my heats with them.

MY ENDLESS SUMMER, PT.6 MON 28JUL2014

Unclassic Huntington Beach

Changing it Up—Beach Break Gambles

Loc: Huntington Beach

Crew: Bri

Time: 0700-0930

Conditions: 2-4FT, consistent, sectiony, walled, uncrowded.

     I tell Bri that we need to change it up. After so many unsuccessful trips down south, we’re better off sticking closer to HB to sample its sandbars. The forecast is 2-3FT and fair, so we’re hoping to get some decent peaks.

     Driving south on PCH, we pass Bolsa Chica, and the surf is barely two feet and crumbly. The Cliffs don’t look that good either. The waves south of the pier look how Oside looked the other day. I can’t help but think, Fuck. Skunked again.

     We park at my favorite HB break and walk out for a look. There is decent size and activity, but the waves are breaking section on section. No isolated peaks. Walls. Motherfucker.

     Bri looks at me and says, “I should have stayed home.”

     I don’t need her negativity, but I hold my tongue. The situation already sucks, haven driven all the way down here for shit once more.

     We paddle out. We have to. And wouldn’t you know, in between the walled sets, there are some occasional waves that hold a little bit of shape. Bri, Miss Grumpy Head, catches back to back waves. Yeah, she had said that she should’ve stayed home, but she’s smiling now.

     I do okay, getting some random isolated peaks. They are racy and section out, but at least they offer a turn before closing out.

     I can’t say that the surf is good, but the lack of crowd leaves all the rideable waves to us. We make the best of it, and the best is enough to make the trip worth it.

     Into the last twenty minutes of surf, something weird happens. The wind completely dies, and the water turns so glassy that it’s hard to read the waves from the sky’s reflection. There’s a line on the outside, and when it comes closer, it’s the first wave of a four-foot-plus set. I paddle out and barely duckdive it. Bri gets dragged all the way inside. There are about five waves in the, and it’s so clean, the faces glassy as a pond. It’s walled, but it’s beautiful to be immersed in. If only there was a shoulder.

     Just as soon as the water turned to glass, the onshore wind picks up, and the surf turns choppy. We catch our last waves in.

     We get some 50% off pho for breakfast, still stoked for the waves that we had caught. It wasn’t a successful gamble, but for the drive and distance, we broke even. 

MY ENDLESS SUMMER, PT.5 SUN 27JUL2014

Forcing It

Loc: Oceanside

Crew: Bri, Rick, Juan, Allen, Vance, Colby

Time: 0800-1000

Conditions: 2-3FT+, inconsistent, sectiony.

     I really don’t want to drive further south again, especially if the surf might not be much better than it was yesterday, but Rick’s pushing for Oside. No one challenges the call. I’d like to say that Bri and I will just stay here, but I don’t want to be “that guy” who breaks up the group. I love Rick, he’s like a father, and I’d hate to put him in a position where he’d have to go against his initial judgment just to please everyone, so I opt to convoy south with them.

     Upon reaching Oside, the surf looks a little better. There’s a small increase in size, and even though the waves aren’t lining up perfectly, there is a little more activity.

     Bri’s not feeling well, so she’s on camera detail. Vance opts to stay dry, as well.

     A set rolls in shortly after paddling out. Rick gets the first wave, but it’s a short ride. He gets back to the lineup quickly. We’re both paddling outside for the next wave. Need I remind you, Rick had just caught a wave. What does he do? He paddles right out and catches the next fucking one, too, and this wave is a nice down-the-liner. Behind it, there are no other waves coming.

     I’m a bit upset. If I’m gonna get backpaddled or snaked, I’d rather have it be by one of my homeboys, but this one really stings. I just have a feeling that that was my only shot at a decent wave today. I hope I’m wrong. Meanwhile, Rick paddles back up to me, smiling ear to ear.

     Frustrated, I sit at the top of the wave. A rogue wave comes. I paddle into it. It’s good for two deep swooping pumps, but it sections out. Other surfers are here, too, and everyone’s jockeying for position at the jetty. I say, fuck it, and paddle north away from everyone.

     Again, I only get one decent wave that I get two turns on. Other than that, nothing. Just closeouts.

     Back at the van, Rick argues with Juan.

     “Don’t move the boards,” says Rick. “Put them back how they were. They need to be packed in a certain order.” Rick grabs his board and pushes its nose in Juan’s ass.

     While Rick reorganizes the van, Juan rolls up his towel and tries to snap it on Rick’s ass for some brotherly butt revenge.   

     We drive back to the campsite, where we’re pelted with rain on the 5 North. There’s even thunder and lighting.

     After packing up the campsite, Rick invites Bri and me down to Churches to hang out and drink. It’s high tide. The surf is a bit swamped out, but the shape looks better. There could be a good window for surf in the evening, but I’m over it. I tell Rick that Bri and I are hitting the road. Usually, I’d stay, but other than the company, the surf has been unfulfilling. I know that there are people out there who work so much that they wish they could paddle out as much as I have, but I’ve been so spoiled in the past, so I can’t help but bitch. Truth is, the trips down south haven’t been paying off surfwise. Either the surf is walled or sectiony, and I’m left hoping for a decent peak out of the shit bundle. My surf theories haven’t paid off. Both direct south swells and south swells with some angle in them, haven’t been producing good shape. I don’t know what it takes anymore. You don’t know unless you go. Maybe I just need more gambles, but I’m tired of losing every hand.