RICK’S BIRTHDAY WEEKEND PT.II (double), FRI 07NOV2014

Dirt Dan, Nasty Nate, Juan, Bri, and I, standing by for the evening call.

Loc: Churches

Crew: Bri, Rick

Time: 1545-1715

Conditions: 1-3 FT, glassy, sunny, cool, consistent.

“Zippi Time”

     When Bri arrives after work, she brings the rest of our camping gear. Most importantly, she's brought the Zippifish, which I’ll need for the small surf forecast.

     Having missed the first session, Bri paddles out right away while the rest of us head to the store for supplies. Dinner’s gonna be gourmet chili dogs by Chef Gary. I pick up Negro Modelos and tomorrow’s lunch, Spam Loco Mocos.

     I’m itching to paddle out and join Bri for the evening sesh. The tide’s pushed so far out that all the cobblestones are exposed. Conditions are still glassy, and the peaks are coming in small but consistent.

     Rick and I get our gear ready, but I head out ahead of them. Juan opts out of the second session but preps his camera and tripod.

     Walking towards North Churches, I spot Daniel doing some tide-pool recon. He hollers out at me, “You should wear shoes!” I know what he’s talking about. I’ve received my share of cobblestone cuts in the past. No matter how much you think you’ve mastered walking over the rocks here, there’s always the possibility of taking that one misstep and then SLICE. You’re out for about a week.

     Bri’s sitting wide north of three people. A shortboarder paddles out just ahead of me. Even though the water’s cold, I still opt for shorts and a wetsuit jacket. Better to keep my wetsuit dry for tomorrow morning.

     As fun as the RV was for the first session, nothing I ride catches waves easier than the Zippi. It’s just so thick all the way up to the nose. The nose just slides down and gets into waves no problem. Peaks are coming in small, but with the low tide, they are so easy to paddle into. It’s like a repeat of the first session, but instead of trying to get turns, I focus more on distance. The waves are lining up much longer from the tide, and the shape is even peakier.

Photo by Juan A. Camera zoomed with San Onofre in the distance. 

     Juan’s on the cobble stones at the edge of the water, snapping pics. We all score with the sunset in the background. Bri leaves first since she’s been out the longest. Rick follows suit, and then I walk back with Juan.

Juan snapped this iPhone pic as I was getting out, looking back, stoked on small surf.

     Back at the campsite, Gary’s got the chili dogs going, and there’s something about camping that just makes everything taste delicious. We could’ve eaten Cup Noodles for dinner, and I would’ve been happy.

     Now we’re sitting around the campfire with a full moon above us. It’s so bright that we can still see the surf in front of our camp site.

     The call is DMJs tomorrow. Even though I know I should get to bed early, it’s hard to fathom it. Completely beached with a beer in my hand, hot flames warming my face, I look at my watch. It’s barely six thirty. 

RICK’S BIRTHDAY WEEKEND PT.I, FRI 07NOV2014

Here's Rick my surf mentor and former platoon sergeant. When I'm in my 50s, I'll be lucky if I'm ripping like this guy.

Loc: Churches

Crew: Rick, Juan, Gary, Nate, Daniel

Time: 1100-1230

Conditions: 1-3 FT, glassy, sunny, cool, soft.

     Rick’s secured a campsite for the whole weekend. Unfortunately, the surf forecast is dismal, probably the main reason why some of his main homies have backed out of this trip. But Rick’s like a dad to me, and I don’t give a shit if it’s only half a foot out there. I’m going.

     It’s an early start. I get up at 0420, Rick picks me up at 0500, and then we rendezvous at Gary’s house in Torrance. From there, everyone else shows up. I’ve surfed with Nate in the past at DMJs, but this is the first time I’ve met Daniel. They’re both Russ’s childhood friends, and Gary’s coached them when they did hockey tournaments as teens.

     After battling traffic, we arrive at Churches in good time. With a six-and-a-half foot high tide, the surf is swamped out. The conditions are excellent. The sun’s shining brightly over two longboarders sitting in the lineup not catching shit. A fisherman on a longboard paddles out. There’s a crate on his deck, fishing pole, too. Yet, there is an occasional one footer that breaks. The surf wants to do it. A good sign with a tide this high.

     Then it’s breakfast at Pipes Café in San Clemente. It’s practically empty. Their $6.95 French toast special is a small unfulfilling meal, but thankfully the rest of the guys don’t know how to eat, so I polish off a couple their leftovers.

     By 1100, the tide is beginning to go out. Small-wave peaks are rolling in. There’s no complaining from any of us. No moans or groans about the surf. We all knew the forecast before coming out here, so there’s no bitching aloud.

     Gary lets me sample his 5’9 Lost RV. The thing is over 21 inches wide, so it should do great in these conditions.

     Nate and Daniel head to Lowers but stop short and paddle out with the rest of us when we set ourselves up at North Churches.

     The longboarder and SUP guy at the spot can’t be happy with our invasion. I’m trunking it with a rashguard, and fuckin’ A, the water’s cold. What happened to hot November? To compensate for the temp, I paddle with a purpose for every wave and move back and forth through the lineup.

     Rick gets a lot of waves on his green longboard. It’s a 9’6 singlefin. Gary’s on his Pill. One of the other guys is on the Lost Lazy Boy.

     The last time I had sampled the RV was at Jalama in big rippable conditions. Basically, I was using it in the wrong conditions. Now in legit small surf, I’m testing it out with my SA2 quad setup.

     Even though the surf is small, it’s still fun out here. Trestles, Churches, San Onofre just have good shape, and you don’t always need a longboard. Right now, the RV is working, and I’m catching waves pretty easily. Of course, not as easy as the Zippi, but I’m getting quality rides on this thing.

     I start off with some noserides. Some occasional lefts sprout up at three feet. The smooth shoulders line up perfectly as I pop up, get in my first two pumps, and wrap the RV back and rebound down the line again. As much as I love rippable surf, I know how to have fun in these conditions, too.

     It’s a short first session, more like a go out just to make the camping trip official. We head back, snack, and wait for the evening window to surf again.  

All set up for a dirty-old-men weekend. That's Juan, looking depraved and hunchbacked. 

EVENING GLASS, WED 05NOV2014

Loc: El Porto (45^th)

Crew: Bri

Time: 1530-1700

Conditions: 1-2 FT+, glassy, warm, drained tide.

     “There’s no wind,” says Bri, as she comes home from work. Usually we go to the gym. In fact, we had gone the last two days. “You wanna switch it up?”

     I pull up the surf cam. The tide is drained out. Small crumblers are breaking on the shore. It looks clean though. Who the hell would want to work out indoors in a gym when the weather’s this nice anyway?

     We load up the small-wave equipment and head to El Porto. Parked on top of 45^th Street, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun is still high over the horizon, and the water’s so glassy that it looks like a gleaming lake stretched all the way out to the horizon. Small white lines break in the surf. I got the Zippi, Bri the NSP.

     It’s been a while since I pulled an evening session. Bri has to be tortured by my stories, on how back in the day, when I was 100% pure Barn, I used to drive straight to the beach after clocking out from my cubicle. Back then it didn’t matter. I never looked at cams or forecasts. Shitty days to others were good days to me because I couldn’t do much more on a wave besides go straight. Funny thing is, I mostly recall the evening surf being good back then. I had caught so many glassy evenings with good shape. When one progresses as a surfer and learns the good conditions from the bad, he gets picky. Nowadays, a good evening sesh is hard to come by.

     With the sun going down much earlier, the Porto lot is barely full. Crossing over to get to the stairs, I hear someone in a truck behind us talking to Bri. I turn around, and it’s Kurt from 26^th Street rushing the evening sesh, too.

     The air is warm. A low-tide line exposes the flat wet sand up to the shallow water line. People are trunking it. Guys awkwardly paddle on their foamies. Yup, it prime time for beginners—the Costco hour. I’ve been there. I remember.

     There’s a left in front of the bathrooms that’s working. Bri and I paddle there. A couple is body surfing the left. I want to be exactly where they are. Next to us, surfers shout to each other in German. Germans . . . they’re everywhere.

     I get a wave immediately, but the low tide has the waves racing fast. I pump to get distance but reach shallow water within seconds.

     We both get a lot of waves, but it’s hard to get any good down-the-line rides. No turns this evening. As the sun gets lower, more people come out. Some noobs trade off riding closeouts on a shortboard that has a GoPro mounted on it. Now the break in front of the sandwich shack has a peak. Groms on shortboards are getting decent rides, finishing off with fin-blasting maneuvers. Ah, must be nice to be so light. I wish I had started surfing in my teens.     

     Kurt leaves. The sun goes down, and the horizon turns into an orange blaze.

     We catch our last waves in and head back up to the wagon. Even though the surf wasn’t that good, the conditions were so pristine that we did ourselves some justice just by paddling out. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this perfect SoCal evening. Shit . . . I even trunked it, no shirt. How often is November this warm?

     At the same time, there has to be balance. The surf has been small, and I can’t see myself paddling out in tiny shapeless surf every single day, but we had to do it at least once. Sometimes you have to surf the small days.