TRESTLES: SURF BUM SHELTER, FRI 3.18.2011 EVE

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 1600 - 1800, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Clear skies, onshore wind, low tide, slight south current, three feet, inconsistent, long lulls, mostly rights and a couple lefts, good shape.

    Instead of chillin’ on the sand, like how I did during my last staycation, I ended up lying down in the back of my wagon. Well, first I had a loner picnic and devoured all of my food. I was drained from that first session. Oreo cookies saved my life!

    I parked under a shaded tree to read a book, but then passers-by kept staring at the brown monkey trying to sleep in his car, so I drove closer to where I parked in the morning.

    I backed my car up so the rear hatch faced the ocean. It was amazing. I read Ronald Dahl’s Switch Bitch (for school) until I got tired and fell asleep. I woke up here and there to a couple text messages and phone calls, but I loved having the view of the ocean at my feet. I watched some little longboard waves roll by as I drifted back to nappy-poo status.

    At 1530 I woke up to get ready for round two. Low tide was at 1500, so I figured that I’d let an hour slide by to let the tide rise a little. A major transformation took place, as the tide was so low that all the rocks were exposed on the drained shoreline. I walked all the way to Cristianitos trail again, and then I turned around to check out Middles--the same spot. There were about five people there, and it looked like the best bet again. It was just a little sloppier because the winds were blowing on shore, but the spilling waves still had open faces accompanied with them.
    My walk out to deep water was long and treacherous. The stones were slippery, and I took great care not to twist an ankle or step on any unwelcoming surprises. I looked like a drunken orangutan trying to walk a tight-rope.
    I finally made it to waist deep water and paddled out, and then . . . I waited. Gawd damn, another long ass wait. More surfers approached as I sat, and the same main peak in the morning was being hogged again. This time, there were a lot of little grommies, but those little kids were ripping it. I still got the random sets that broke by me. I got another outside right. I remember how I got lucky. When the set came, two groms paddled for the first wave. Since only one got the wave, the other kid was out of position. By the time he saw the second wave approaching I was already making a beeline for it. The wave cloud-breaked on top of me, and it gave me so much speed that it set me up perfectly when I dropped in. I remember looking down the long open face and seeing about a half dozen guys, bobbing up and down on their boards, watching me, as I came pumping down the line. I love the feeling of bottom turning up the face. My arms outstretch wide to set myself up, my eyes looking up the wave, and then it happens. I hit the lip, and then I’m looking down the wave ready to do it again. Also, I actually got a really good left. It was exactly what I’ve been wishing for: a left to practice my turns on. I did my best to get some good front-side carves on the lip, something is still wrong with my body mechanics, but I know I’m getting closer. I focused all my efforts on pushing hard on the tail. I pulled it off, but not with the speed and power that I wanted. Well, everything is just repetition; I just need more good lefts to practice on. I need a good south swell to generate some lefts.
    I didn’t feel like competing at the main peak. Those locals had it wired, and I didn’t want to get in there at that moment; I need a little more time there. The lull wasn’t worth the wait in the end, so I called it a day after two hours. Right now Trestles is my training ground. Each time I go there I feel like I’ve learned something or progressed a little further. I look forward to getting that spot wired.
   


   
   

   

TRESTLES: PATIENCE, FRI 3.18.2011 MOR

CREW: Solo
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: No one
TIME: 0820 - 1120, 3 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Clear skies, light offshore wind, high tide, no current, three feet, inconsistent, long lulls, mostly rights, excellent shape.

    I could barely sleep the night before. I made sure to pack everything for the morning: food, boards, wetsuit, wax, towel, etc. I sent out a mass invite, but no one was able to go on the trip. I couldn’t blame them; not everyone has their Fridays free, and I should consider myself fortunate. At 0445 my alarm clock went off; I only slept for about three and a half hours, but it was enough for me. I was up to my neck in homework, and I studied really hard up until Thursday night. I did all that to have Friday free, free from the thought of anything not relating to surf.

    As I ate my breakfast I went through my surf porn collection to get me pumped for the day. I thumbed through Modern Collective, Innsersections, Sons of Sickness, and Blue Horizon. I thought I’d watch Andy in his prime in the darkness of the early morn. I’m not sure if I got the effect that I hoped for, but I ended up being saddened watching Andy on my TV screen. Reality hit, again, that the surf community suffered a great loss with his passing. In my somber mood, I stumbled into the morning darkness with two boards, a cooler, and a large backpack. Walking up to my car, I noticed that the full moon was shining over the top of my street. I’ve never seen the moon that full and round before. It was 0530. I was glad that I started the trip on time and that I was way ahead of the sun.

    The freeway lights were a pinkish orange. Cars slightly swerved in their lanes, paralleling the tired state of their drivers. I was listening to The War on Drugs on Pandora. It’s a hippy/rock genre that was perfect for the drive. I was so stressed during the week. Finally, I had a moment to get some clarity, a moment to get centered.

    I pulled into San Onofre and took a look at Old Man’s. I wasn’t too impressed. It was about 0640, the sun wasn’t over the mountains yet, it was just above fifty degrees, the winds were howling off shore, and the surf was barely three feet. There were only a couple guys out; I beat the main rush to hit the beach. I parked as close as I could to Churches and changed. I wasn’t sure what to think at first, but the surf was a lot smaller than what I hoped. A couple people were out surfing over there, but I opted to make the walk to Trestles to see if it was better.


 

    As I left the first point at Churches a perfect three foot left peeled away right in front of me--no one was on the wave. As much as I wanted to just paddle out right there, I kept moving. Nothing was happening at Middles.

    As I entered Lowers the tide was so high that I had to walk through thigh deep water. Once I got to the Cristianitos trail, I realized that I didn’t need to venture any further. The swell direction wasn’t doing anything for Lowers.

    On my way back towards Middles the first wave of surfers was approaching. I looked for a peak. I saw some waves breaking at the point between Lowers and Middles, but I wanted to find something better. I ended up paddling out where I saw that first left at the end of Churches.

    I stashed my sandals and paddled out north of three long boarders. The wind died down a little bit, and the water was glassy. The sun’s reflection gave the surface a golden and honeylike appearance. There was a film on the water, but not the kind in the South Bay, it was a good film. The lull was forever. The dedicated early morning risers took hold of the main Churches’ peak; I was north of them. I saw longboarders getting waves over there, and I was sitting, waiting for leftovers. I random right finally came in. The wave was a clean three footer with only a couple ripples giving it minimum texture. Thanks to the JS board, I had more than enough volume to paddle into it early. The wave was worth the wait. What I love about the San Onofre and Trestles area is that the waves are so user friendly. You’d have to be an idiot to not be able to catch any of those waves. There’s no “pitch” on the wave’s lip; it’s so gradual and gentle, and the face holds shape so well to allow you to get your turns and carves in. As I glanced over my shoulder the wave looked at least four feet, but in reality it was probably barely over three. I bottom turned, transitioned into a nice arching top turn, did it again, and stalled on the third top turn. I wish I could see my spray. I know I’m not throwing buckets, but I’m sure I’m throwing some water out the back. My first wave of the day was so clean. I kicked out without getting my hair wet. In fact, for the first hour my hair didn’t get wet; that’s a record.

    The three longboarders next to me paddled to my north. They were getting some waves, and I had such a long lull that I had to paddle all the way to Middles. The first wave of surfers that I ran into was hogging the point that connected to Lowers. I hung out just south of them to get some random sets. It was weird. No one was talking, but there were at least a dozen bodies out there. Everyone was in close proximity, no eye contact, no talking, but the personal agenda was clear. We were all there to get a wave, not to make friends.

    The lulls were killing me. I was unhappy, and I thought that the morning session would be a bust, but things got more consistent into the second hour. The point produced a peak out of no where. The waves would just jack up after hitting the shelf. I saw guys catching tiny waves that didn’t look possible to paddle into. Despite the long waits, every time I got a wave it had shape. There wasn’t one bad wave out there. I lost count at five and didn’t find it necessary to keep track any more. The most I got was three turns on a wave, but for me that’s a lot. I sat far on the outside and got a couple waves as they were cloud breaking. The white wash pushed me into the wave while I was still on my belly, and I only popped up as I slid into the face. There’s no need for me to describe the ride, just go back to the first wave that I described; they were all like that. Again, like I said, the waits were long, but they were worth it. I can’t put enough value on a wave that actually holds and lets you turn. The South Bay hasn’t been very giving lately. One day in Trestles is worth more than a week full of close outs in the South Bay.

    Half way through the third hour I was shivering. Both of my wetsuits are riddled with little pin holes; I hope I can hold out until it gets warm. I pressed on until 1120 because I wanted to do at least a solid three hours for my morning sesh. I caught my last wave in and walked back to my sandals. Round one complete.


   
   

  

THE LITTLE HB WAVE THAT COULD … KICK YOUR ASS: SUN 3.13.2011 MOR

CREW: Klaude
FLAKES OF THE DAY: None
RAN INTO: Wendell
TIME: 0945 - 1045, 2 hrs.
CONDITIONS: Clear skies, no wind, mid to low tide, no current, waist high, occasional chest high sets, some hollow, fast, pitchy waves.

 Saturday night Klaude called me and suggested that we go to PV instead of Parks. I was a little apprehensive, initially, because I’ve heard bad things about PV; even Rick has told me he’s had bad experiences at PV. But I knew that new surf spots don’t get discovered with that attitude, so I obliged. The plan was for me to load up in his van by 0630.

 I had a restless night. I had--what I thought was--two cups of weakly brewed coffee. I drank them late at night because I wanted to stay awake to write Saturday’s surf entry. I lost a couple hours laying down, staring at the ceiling pumped on caffeine, and I lost an additional hour because of the time change. I woke up at 0600 with barely two hours of sleep. I ate, packed, and staged my gear outside my door. 0630 came around, and there was no sign of Klaude. I called him, and when he picked up he sounded groggy as hell. He said he was doing his yoga stretches and that he’d be here by 0700. I brought all of my shit back inside the house, and then I watched TV to kill some time because I couldn’t fall back asleep. At 0713 I was staring at my watch. I’m usually pretty punctual about getting in the water early, and I was past my usual start time. I was about to tell Klaude that I was just going to head out to 26th because I had been awake since 0600, but Rick called and told me that Porto looked like shit, so I couldn’t surf local. Klaude arrived at exactly 0715 just as I was about to call him.

 We cruised down PCH and made our way to The Cove. I’ve never surfed PV before, and it was a breathtaking morning view. The sky was gray, overcast, and the water looked ice cold. There were about fifteen surfers out. We could see the lines of waves for a couple miles, but there was one problem: they weren’t breaking well. We watched some longboarders drop in and go straight, or the waves broke too late, closer to the shore. After further deliberation, we decided to use my brother’s state pass to surf HB.
 We got back to El Segundo, cross loaded our gear, and headed out on the 405S. Even though Randy’s in Bali, we thanked him for handing down his parking pass. I looked forward to showing Klaude another new spot, especially a spot that my brother turned me on to. There were a lot of surfers parked along the coast, which was a good sign for surf. When we reached our parking spot I saw Randy’s friend Wendell pull up. I said hi and introduced him and Klaude to each other. It was another adventure, two days in a row of escaping from LA.

 We took a familiar walk out to the water, a walk that my brother and I used to take. I thought about my brother and how much I missed him. Before I paddle out I always say a little ritualistic prayer: one for me, one for the other surfers around me, and one for my brother when he’s surfing in Bali.
 I told Klaude how I’ve rarely seen a bad day of surf in HB. I recalled the last session that Randy and I had there; it was too small. Other than that, HB has never let us down. Sunday morning wasn’t big. It wasn’t getting much of the WNW swell, but it was still clean, and there was shape. Unfortunately, since we were there late, the water was getting a little shallow, but we saw a couple good peaks with little three foot A-frames rolling through.

 Klaude stretched while I hurried to get out there. I forgot how much that spot grew on me, and I was comfortable being back. It was an easy paddle out, as there were long lulls in between the sets. It was more crowded than usual but not as crowded as Manhattan Beach or Trestles. My first wave was a right, but I wasn’t able to pull off any turns before it closed out. Just as I resurfaced, Klaude had just got to the line. I told him that HB has some high performance surfers, and that I usually stay away from the crowd, especially since I don’t have Randy around anymore. A bump started to form on the surface, and before he knew it a peaky left was fast approaching. From my perception it was like slow motion, but I could tell that Klaude was paddling into the wave too late. I saw the thing jack up and start to pitch just as he tried to pop up; he disappeared in the fast, exploding, and throwing lip. During the drive there we talked about how HB is a different wave, and I shared my description how HB’s waves are more “pitchy.” That morning was no different.

 Klaude wasn’t the only one. You have to pop up fast at HB, faster than any other spot that I’ve been to, yet. I got thrown by the lip a couple of times, but after that I backed-out when I knew I couldn’t make it. I saw Klaude eat it on a couple. I had the view from behind the wave. He’d paddle, disappear, then his fish would go flying in the air. We both had a frustrating time. The funny thing is that we still saw guys ripping, getting mini barrels, airs, etc. It wasn’t the conditions at fault; it was us.

 More people ended up in our area, and we pretty much let them have the waves. They were locals, they knew that wave, and it was obvious that we weren’t shredding. As the morning went on, the tide got lower, and the onshore wind picked up just a little bit. By the end of the session the lulls were longer, the peaks weren’t as defined. Rogue sets randomly popped up. Klaude and I got walloped by a couple chest high waves. They weren’t even that big. The waves were pretty small, but they had some speed and power behind them. Combined with the shallow water, it only added to their strength.

 Before we left I saw Klaude get a couple clean rides, and I managed to get two rights that I got to hack the lip on. It bothers me that I still can’t get good spray on my front side.

 It wasn’t a phenomenal session, but we both appreciated that it was still better than the South Bay. Even though we didn’t do well, we still had fun, and we both knew that the trip was worth it. HB has always served as a reality check for me. I can appreciate guys like my brother and the locals that surf there; they mastered that wave. We still have a long way to go. Just thinking about it now, though … I can’t wait to go back. I do love that spot, it’s such a great alternative to Porto, and it’s good when I can’t make the drive further down south.