PRIORITIES, MON 04NOV2013

Loc: 26^th Street

Time: 0630-0800

Crew: Solo

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, overcast, glassy, walled, crowded

     I’m trying to find some balance between surfing and school. It’s just that time in the semester when assignments are more demanding, and on top of that some west-north-west swell begins to show. If I surf too long I’ll be too tired to get my assignments done later. After a two hour session, I will definitely need a power nap.

     So right now I’m looking out from the park above the surf. There’s definitely some size. It’s still early. The high school kids haven’t taken over the lineup yet. The smaller inside waves provide some shape, but the set waves are walled. I watch a guy pull in on a right. The section is too fast, and it closes out over him.

     So, despite “rationing,” and trying to cut down some of my surf time, I have to make the call on whether or not I’ll paddle out. I almost feel like I can just leave, call it a walled morning. Besides, I have a lot of other things to do today.

     However, it’s not that easy. Winter is coming, and despite the shape, paddling out while there’s some decent size out there will help prepare me for the bigger surf later this month, so I change, put on the quad fins, and run down the hill.

     Now that I’m in the water, it’s not as big as it looked from up top. The tide will be going high, but it’s about mid level right now. I don’t see many of the local 26^th Street vets. The high schoolers are now ruling where the waves are breaking best. I sit in front of the brick house, hoping for something to swing my way.

     I get a right, a decent, peaky, four-foot right. I haven’t dialed in my backhand with the quad setup. I feel eyes all over me as I drop in. I almost purl, but I pull off a deep bottom turn. Jordan is on the shoulder duckdiving and another guy is trying to pull out from snaking me. I wind up for a backhand snap, but I lose it, stalling on the top of the lip, letting the wave peel away from me. Fuck.

     My next wave is a left. One of the local guys has position, but he calls me into it because he’s too deep. It’s my wave of the day. I get a little carve on top, but the wave mooshes out on the inside.

     To my north by 33^rd, I see a guy get a little cover up. Even though the wave closes out, he’s far enough on the shoulder to penetrate out the cascade of water.

     I get another right, but my feet come unstuck from my board as I hit the lip. Bigger sets start coming in, but they’re all walled. The incoming tide isn’t helping the shape. A lull hits. Everyone is waiting for something. As the kids start to leave, more adults show up.

     I take a desperation right, pulling in and grabbing rail. I know it’s a closeout, and I’m not really driving in the barrel, but it feels good to at least get my technique down.

     By 0800, I tell myself that I have to go. Plenty of things to do today. A week ago I would have sat until about 1000. I catch a wave in.

     When I check Surfline afterwards, I’m surprised that they had given the local report a poor-to-fair rating. Sure, it was walled, but eh . . . there were some occasional peaks here and there. The water was glassy, there was size. I would’ve at least given it a fair rating.

     Now I have the rest of the day to do homework. I have a feeling that Palos Verdes will be working this evening with the swell size and low tide. Unfortunately, this swell is coming in too walled for the beach breaks. I’d like to go to PV, but I got priorities. 

INSTINCT, SAT 02NOV2013

Loc: 26^th Street

Time: 0930-1030

Crew: Bri & Todu

Conditions: 2-3 FT, choppy, onshore, walled, crowded

     After wasting all of Thursday on shitty surf, I don’t paddle out on Friday. With the tide so high in the morning right now, I feel that it’s better to check it before noon when it comes down a little. Today, Bri and I are ready to go to the gym. It’s about 0900, and then Klaude hits me up for a breakfast invite.

     “I was at 26^th from like seven to nine,” he says.

     “How was it?”

     “It was actually . . . pretty . . . good.”

     Fuck. Please don’t tell me that I missed out. “Really?” I say. “I expected that the tide would be too high, so I didn’t even bother.”

     “Nah,” he says. “Despite the tide, guys were getting some long rides. Tom was out there. Roy was out there. It was offshore. Still is.”

     Bri and I load up our gear and head towards 26^th. On the way there, the surf looks a little walled and small. I find free parking, and then we walk out from 33^rd Street. The surf . . . well . . . it’s sunny and the conditions are nice. There’s a light onshore wind creating some texture, but the surf is fucking walled. The lines are long with a fast corner at the end at best. We walk all the way to the brick house and then to the 26^th Street tower. Fuck. It’s kind of crowded. The surf isn’t as good as I had hoped.

     Bri and I paddle out, finding Todu in the lineup. “Were you here earlier?” I ask.

     “No,” he says. “I just got here.” 

     And fuck . . . the surf is crappy just like yesterday morning. Closeouts and fast walls. I get a fast shoulder that I get some pumps on, but that’s it. Within the hour, more surfers pour out from the street, onto the sand, and into the water. Now there are no gaps as far as I can see.

     After an hour, Bri and I leave and head to the gym. Fuck this.

THE BOLSA GAMBLE (double), THU 31OCT2013

Loc: Bolsa Chica

Time: 0715-1015

Conditions: 2-3 FT, sunny, sideshore, glassy, inconsistent, swampy

     I should really dedicate this morning to doing homework, but Surfline is calling today’s forecast Fair to Good, so I have to go. If today is supposed to be better than yesterday’s score then I have to pull my surfer card and throw out my student one.

     I show up at Bolsa just after first light. I have to because my first class today starts at 1100, so if I want a long, solid session then I have to be here early. Yesterday looked fun despite the high tide when I had arrived around 0900, so with a little rise in the swell, the surf should be good.

     The first thing I notice when I step out of my car is the wind. It’s slightly offshore, but it’s coming in at an angle from the north. The water’s choppy and swampy, but it looks like some peaks are trying to push through it. It doesn’t look as good as yesterday, but I have to have faith. In an hour it should be firing. 

     I change and paddle out in my 4/3, feeling glad for the investment in this wetsuit. One longboarder is to my south and another guy is way to my north. Again, I have this spot to myself.

     Despite the tide and the texture on the water, I manage to get some decent rides. The backwash makes the peaks stand up on the outside, and then I have a long, racy line to work with. I have my thruster setup today, so I pump down the line and set myself up for some single shot turns. The only problem is that the waves are so swampy that they are gutless, not pitchy and punchy like yesterday.

     I had expected the surf to get better, but it doesn’t. Even at 0900, the surf is still swampy, more inconsistent even. Proof of this is the lack of surfers in the water. People arrive and then leave. Fuck.

     At 1000 the conditions clear up. The wind turns offshore, the sun comes out at full strength, and the water turns glassy. But still, the waves are inconsistent and slightly walled. Fuckin’ A. I would’ve skipped class if the surf was good, but it isn’t. Surfline was off. I’ve been bamboozled.

     Back at my car, changing, I see a couple guys show up to look at the surf. Before they leave I hear one of them say, “Yeah, yesterday was way better.”

DESPERADO (evening session)

Loc: Palos Verdes

Time: 1700-1800

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 1-2 FT, glassy, inconsistent

     Despite the shitty surf this morning, the conditions are so wonderful that I can’t stand the thought of spending the day indoors. After class, I wait for Bri to come home. When she does, we eat a light lunch, pack our gear, and head to El Porto in hopes that the good conditions will equal good surf.

     The surf is shit. At 1600, the tide is still drained out. The onshore wind is strong, making the surf choppy and walled. I squint and try to make out some decent rides out of the waves. Lines are coming in. There’s potential, but . . . all the surfers out there right now are just desperados, going straight on the closeouts.

     In desperation, I drive to The Cove, hoping that the low tide and lines coming in will transfer into some kind of surf over there. When we get there, there are only three surfers out and with good reasoning too. Fucking flat. Eh . . . there are some little lines out there. I think they might be bigger in the water. “Let’s do it,” I say to Bri.

     “Really?” she says. “There’s nothing out there.”

     It’s funny how glassy PV is despite all the shit surf everywhere else. The water here is so clean that we could be in an entirely different region somewhere, a land without wind. We do the trek down the hill and paddle out. Fuck. The surf looks much smaller in the water. I catch one closeout. Bri gets about three waves, but it’s even hard for her to get them. To end the session, I have to paddle in. It’s that hard to surf on my shortboard.

     So that’s how the Halloween session ends. We go back to El Segundo and have dinner at Mandy’s. I’m surprised at how packed the neighborhood is with trick or treaters. I tell Bri that I’m nervous that we might get visitors and that we don’t have any candy. “Trick or treaters don’t go to the outskirts of neighborhoods,” she says. “Especially not apartments.” And when we get home, our street is a ghost town. No one knocks. Bri is right.