Monday, April 6, 2015

STOKED NOW, BUMMED LATER, SAT 04APR015


 

Loc: Manhattan Beach, 26th Street                     

Time: 0700-0745

Conditions: 1-2 Occasional 3 FT, crowded, soft.

Board: Motorboat Too

     After yesterday’s surf fest at Churches, I knew that I had to lower my expectations surfing Manhattan Beach. As soon as I parked, I saw weak lines rolling in to shore. I mean, glassy weak. The lips were just wavering in the morning light, complexion grey. Could get better, I thought. The report had called for occasional four footers . . . but I knew I was fooling myself. Yet, my crew, the DRC holds itself to a high standard. Klaude had said he’d be surfing this morning and that he’d be out.

     One good thing about being there was that I got to see all the local guys I haven’t surfed with in a while. One by one, as we spotted them in the lineup, we caught up. Orlando invited me and Bri to his camp out late this month. Stocky Jon had shaved his mustache and goatee. And Roy was looking scruffy and dark and bloodshot as usual.

     I popped up on my first wave and got two pumps before cutting back. Immediately, the wave bogged out. Second wave bogged out even faster. After that, I couldn’t catch anything. A few longboarders were able to glide through the moosh, but even they were having a hard time.

     At 0730, I told Bri that we’d be leaving if we didn’t catch anything. Sure as shit, we ended up doing the paddle of shame.

     Back on shore, I checked my phone and saw that Klaude had just got up. Usually, we’d give each other shit for missing the session, but I told him that he didn’t miss out on anything.

BRI’S DAY OFF (triple sesh), FRI 03APR015


Taking a break during the second intermission before the third session
 

Loc: Churches                                        

Time: All Day

Conditions: 2-3 Occasional 4 FT, uncrowded, clean.  

Board: Motorboat Too & Zippifish

     With spring break here, Bri finally has a day off from both of her jobs today, so the Trestles area is the call. Even though the surf forecast looks small, it’s truly our favorite place to surf. Worst case, I’m bringing the Zippifish in case the surf is tiny. Occasional three footers on Trestles-quality waves can be all you need for a day full of fun.

     Usually we’d be on the road at first light. We sleep in a little, hitting the snooze button, finally rolling out of our futon at 0600. It’s too easy to make excuses. Today’s excuse is that it’s a rare day off for Bri, so why rush it? We may be missing the low tide window, but it’s also nice to take our time, drink some coffee, and leave at our own pace.

     Of course, I regret this decision when we hit Orange County on the 405 South. Traffic. At least the carpool lane has us at a steady crawl.

     When we reach the Basilone exit at about 0730, we look off to our right and see some small waves breaking at Lowers. Middles has some long lines, showing signs that it’s not giving any classic A-frame peaks, which are hard to come by nowadays—Middles not Lowers.

     There’s a parking space left in front of Churches. The tide’s up at mid level. Looks like a lot of water on the surface, but waves are still breaking. My buddy Klaude had told me that today might be crowded with spring break and Good Friday, but there are only about half a dozen longboarders out in front of us. Though small, the surf is living up to Surfline’s report. Clean three-foot rights are rolling through, and, best of all, it looks rippable enough for my Motorboat Too. Even though the surf looks decent here, I already know that we’re going to push it a little further north to the edge of Churches. Something about getting on a good cobblestone left, especially if you’re a goofy footer, that’s too good to pass up on.

     Too bad most of the crowd today had the same idea. Surfers used to like crowding the top of the wave at Churches, but now it seems that Upper Churches is the new primary spot. Six surfers aren’t too many heads to deal with, but on a smaller day like today, it can be enough to annoy.

     Bri and I sit wide south of the small group at first. My first wave is a right. At barely three feet, sliding down the face of such a clean Trestles wave is still invigorating. Just yesterday I had surfed some punchy Manhattan Beach beachbreak peaks, but I just love this spot so much more because of the shape. I bottom turn and get a top turn off the lip and then transition into a backhand wrap. The rest of the wave runs away and softens up, offering a baby float section. Looks like the tide’s starting to moosh it up, the water too deep on the rights.

     Gradually, we work our way into the pack. People start leaving. Now there’s more than enough room for everyone.

     It’s all about the lefts now. The lefts run all the way into the beginning of Middles where it’s a little shallower. I can’t get more than two turns on my rides, but I’m guaranteed at least a solid opening carve and a decent finishing maneuver. Since my last session here was on the Zippi, it feels good to open up on one of my legit shortboards. Arcing through my top turns, I feel the sharp accentuation when I whip the tail around.

     Even though we had shown up at about mid tide, peaks still roll through consistently until about 0930. By 1000, Bri and I are done. More people are out now, but the surf has gone inconsistent.  

     Back at the wagon, we keep our wetsuits on but pull them down half way. We refill on some snacks and water and play cards at one of the unoccupied picnic tables. An hour later, we rewax our boards and get ready for the second session.

#

     My wave of the day comes early on the second session. Right after paddling out, a set-wave left comes my way. Just like in the morning, I get a really strong arc on the top turn on a wave that’s a little steeper than any ride this morning. Bri gets her wave of the day, too, on a right. Some guy even backs out for her. I watch her head from behind the wave going back and forth as she cuts back down the line.

     Everything looks good for the second session, but then things start to slow down. Also, the onshore wind starts to pick up, and it’s knocking down the peaks into warbly two-foot lines. My Motorboat Too turns ineffective. Like my previous all-day sessions, my energy level drops down to zero. My hamstrings start cramping on the duckdives, so do my triceps. I need calories, electrolytes, something! After an hour and a half, we’re both done.

#

     Bri decides to sit out on the third session, and I can’t blame her. My eyes are beginning to get a little sunburned. The outer layers of my eyeballs are starting to feel sticky every time I blink. The thought of investing in surf sunglasses crosses my mind. Another reason why I’m pushing it so hard today is because we’re also topping the day off with AYCE sushi, so you can bet your ass I’m gonna earn it.   

     I switch to the Zippifish for the last session. It’s the right board for what the conditions are doing, and it’s also perfect for how tired I am.

     Changing things up, I start at the bottom of the wave, and of course, nothing really comes my way. I end up at the top and then even a little further just short of Upper Churches.

     The Zippifish is a straight up cheater board. It’s just too easy. A couple of strokes, and I’m already popping up. It’s amazing how the right board can just change the whole session. The surf went from mediocre to rippable again. Even on the shoulders that are mooshing out, I bottom turn and just crouch low on the board to still force some backside turns. Meanwhile, guys all around me are on potato chip thrusters, pumping hard through the flat sections. Just not the right boards for today.


     A few plus-size wave come through that make riding the fish a little challenging. I snag some lefts and set myself up for some cutbacks, but since the tide is bottoming out, the twin-fin setup gets a little squirrely on me. By 1600, I’m done. I can’t surf anymore. I spot Bri on the sand. I belly ride the white wash to shore and head back with her.

#

     An hour and a half into sushi, the waiters keep asking us if we’re done. They want us to leave. This Friday evening, Zenko Sushi is packed with people waiting to be seated. Yellow tail comes in first. Unagi a close second, followed by the mackerel. When we leave, we’re not even in a food coma.

     The surf wasn’t great, but it was accurate from what Surfline had predicted. All we needed was three feet and we even got a little more than that. Just twelve hours ago we were showing up to surf. Twelve hours later, sunburned with sore back muscles and full of sushi, Bri’s day off was a success.
 
 

Thursday, April 2, 2015

MR. CLEAN, THU 02APR015


Loc: Manhattan Beach, 28th Street                     

Time: 0700-0830

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, offshore, crowded.

Board: Motorboat Too

     After having been gone for nearly two weeks for work, I show up to Manhattan Beach, expecting a mooshy 2-3 foot session. Motorboat Too it is, my shortboard with the low rocker, suitable for chest-high point break and beach break moosh.

     I’m hoping to run into some familiar faces I haven’t seen in a while, but the main peak is already dominated by groms. Must be spring break.

     Instead of the smaller surf that’s forecasted, the surf’s easily a foot bigger. The peaks aren’t coming in in clean A-frames but more sectiony with once-in-a-while corners.

     My paddling muscles are forced to reactivate when I paddle out. My body resists as if to say “this is new.” It takes a while to make it to the lineup. Regression is the reality.

     The main peak is firing, but it’s inconsistent where I’m at. My first wave is a closeout right. My next wave is a left. I cutback but it mooshes out afterwards. When the sets come in, they stand up into fast sectiony wedges. I pass on these since they don’t look rideable. Plus, I’m on the wrong board. I should’ve busted out the Lost Mini Driver.

     The best I do is catch a couple of long lefts all the way to shore, but I’m just cutting back the whole time. I’m thinking that I’m doing pretty well for myself and for what the surf is offering, and that’s when I hear a hoot. To my north at the next peak over, a recent local transplant is paddling for one of those fast wedges. The wave should be too fast, but he pops up, slides down the face, and pumps himself right underneath the lip as the lip curls over him. He’s in there, forehand and crouching, rear hand in the face of the wave like he’s pulling it along, forcing it to run with him. I lose sight as he pulls out into the flats before the closeout.

     I wonder if I’ve been surfing these waves wrong this whole morning. That guy got out clean. I catch the next wave and pull in. Its shoulder is soft, but I stall in the pocket and get a little swirl over my head before I’m pinched. Although, this is nothing new. I’ve been getting pinched like this for a while, unsure whether I’m progressing any more or not.

     Jealous of Mr. Clean’s barrel, and having seen him pull into a wave that would have otherwise looked too fast or passable, I get another swift reality check that barrels will always be the pinnacle of surfing.