A WINDOW, SUN 15DEC2013

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Crew: Tom, Calvin, Toru, Bri

Conditions: 3 FT, offshore, warm, sunny, walled.

     Bri and I check the local surf at first light, and the surf is walled again. Instead of paddling out and waiting for the surf to change, we head back home and postpone our session. It’s looking like a gym day, so we eat breakfast and watch some older episodes of The Walking Dead to fill the void. Of course, this is when the texts start coming in. Dave T. says that the surf is getting better, as well as some other surf buddies. Bri and I look each other and feel it’s worth the drive to have another glimpse.

     It’s the late morning now around ten o’clock, so the beach is already getting crowded with non-surf, Sunday day dwellers. Lucky enough, surfers from the first and second shift are leaving, timing that awards our recent arrival.

     In the lot, Tom and Calvin have just finished suiting up. They say they’ll meet us in the water. Even Toru has made a late arrival.

     It’s a typical, Manhattan Beach day with blue sky and blue water. In front of the brick house breaks a clean right-handed peak about three feet. With the tide going down, the shape is much more negotiable for at least a turn if one’s lucky, so it’s a no brainer for us to paddle out.

     Bri does decent as usual, getting some long rides, but she gets a little worked when the sets start coming in.

#

     And I can’t remember much else for this session. It was a while ago. Bri went in early because she was tired from the day before. Toru left shortly afterwards, and then Tom, Calvin, and I went in at about the same time. It was a decent Sunday session but nothing spectacular.

RELIEF VIA COBBLESTONES (double), SAT 14DEC2013

Loc: Middles

Crew: Bri

Conditions: 2-3 FT, offshore, warm, sunny.

     This past week, Bri and I have dawn patrolled Porto nearly every morning to be met with disappointment. Even though Surfline had given the South Bay a fair rating, most of the peaks were too lined up—long lines closing out with rare corners to work with. On Friday morning, I told Bri that on Saturday we’d be driving south. Even though the swell would be smaller at south-facing breaks, at least there would be some cobblestones providing decent shape.

Prep:

     So Bri and I are trying to get into new habits before going on these surf trips. I pack the whole wagon up the night before. Even her longboard is mounted on top of the wagon, just not strapped tight ‘til morning. Boards, wetsuits, everything is thrown in the ride, save for the hot water bottles.

     We’re on the road by 0600. The tide doesn’t top out for another hour, so there’s no rush.

Selling It:

     Old Mans is empty. Too much tide. We continue our drive from San Onofre to Churches. The sun on the sand is giving it a bright beige color. With a cloudless background, everything casts a shadow with a hard slant, indicating the sun’s first glimpse over the mountains from the west. Even the small ripples in the water cast a shadow, and in the water are only four surfers.

     Since the tide is high, the waves are breaking closer to shore, but there is potential in this swell. Despite the tide, some clean rights begin to break and peel. The four surfers have a photog guy snapping away. These guys are good, walking their longboards all the way to the nose then walking back all the way to the tail, redirecting their ocean-liner boards into the crumbling white wash and back down the line again. One of them gets out and swaps his longboard for a shortboard from the van parked next to us.

     We’d like to paddle out right next to them to get on those peaks too, but they got a photo shoot going, and they’re really the ones who are soul surfers who paddled out even though the conditions are swampy. They deserve their spot.

     Bri and I change. I whip out the old Becker Board. It’s a 6’10 shortboard-shape with a quad setup. I had bought the board initially as a medium board during my progression towards a shortboard. I’ve been waiting for the right conditions to ride it in, and finally today I’ll get my chance to see if I’ll be able to turn this beast. After locking up the car, we head towards north Churches. 

Right Decision?:

     The tide . . . we’re waiting for the tide to go down so we can get some waves. A left comes. I paddle into it with ease. The shoulder is peeling for a long ride to shore. I pump to make the section. On my second pump, my rail is so set that I go over the wave on accident. Wasted. After that a lull sets in, and it’s hard for me to get into the waves, even with the Becker.

     Meanwhile, Bri’s doing okay. On her longboard, she can get into almost everything. The days have passed when she used to be the one sitting around while I was going back and forth after each ride. Now I’m the one sitting here, turning around to see if she’s made the drop, waving back at her to let her know she’s doing a good job, and then looking out towards the horizon wondering when my turn’s gonna be.

     But the lulls get so long that we’re both sitting here. Only a few other guys have paddled out. I wonder if we’ve made the right decision coming here. I picture Porto. Perhaps today is the morning that the lined-up peaks have tented up into A-frames. I imagine the local vets: Kadowaki, Roy, Ross, all going for it and hooting each other on. The locals who surf the same spot day in and day out, knowing that if the surf sucks one morning, they’ll be there the next to be the first ones to score when the shape changes.

     Towards Middles we see some rights rolling in. It looks better over there, but it always looks better “over there.” So Bri and I abandon north Churches, Mons Pubis, and paddle all the way to Middles.

When Old Spots Work:

     There’s a rock formation at Middles that looks like a bunker, so I had named this spot Battle Position years ago. It rarely works. Nowadays it’s a spot I skip, either staying at Churches or sitting on the south side of Lowers, Little Lowers. But on this morning, no one is here at Battle Positions. The locals might be waiting for the right window. Maybe they know. Regardless, as the tide drops down, some wide A-frames start rolling in. Only three feet but it’s a solid Trestles three feet—rippable.

     Maybe I should’ve unleashed my Lost Mini Driver because they waves are beginning to stand up more. The Becker has so much volume and thickness to it that it really requires some strategic foot placement and weight-sinking pivoting of the hips. On a left, I try to do a frontside snap, but it comes off sluggish and more like a check turn. But my wave of the morning comes in the form of a right. I pump down the line, shift my hips and my head back towards the spilling section behind me, do a cutback, and rebound cleanly onto the white wash and into the face of the wave again. It’s one of the cleanest cutbacks that I’ve ever pulled off on my backhand, and I’ve done it on one of my old boards, a 6’10.

     Bri and I trade off waves for about forty-five minutes before some guys start setting up shop on shore. They watch us for about ten minutes before paddling out. Down at Churches, I see more heads in the lineup. The window’s open, and now everyone is rushing through it.

Crowds:

     We had it . . . we had it to ourselves for almost an hour, so it’s okay that there are five old guys sitting at the top of the wave on their longboards. It’s okay that there are more guys on our inside, fully surrounding us. It’s not Porto crowded, but since these waves peel for so long, all it takes is one guy taking off at the top of the wave to cancel everyone else out. So Bri and I share. We still get some rides. I get a few sluggish snaps on my backhand. But it’s almost noon, and we’ve been out for about three hours. There’s water waiting for us in the car. Cookies and tangerines too. More lulls start to set in, so we let the second-shift surfers have the spot. The crowd’s arrived, but Bri and I scored the best window.

#

Loc: North Churches

Time: 1500-1700

Recharge:

     I got the fourth season of The Walking Dead on my laptop, so we snack in the backseat of my car and watch two episodes. The wagon’s facing the ocean, so over the laptop screen I see solid four-foot set waves peel past. Guys are ripping it, getting long rides. The water’s still glassy. It’s gonna be offshore all day.

Round Two:

     We packed extra wetsuits, and it’s so damn nice to put on a bone-dry wetsuit versus one that’s still soaked from the first session. But the tide is so low that we can tell that the wave size has dropped with it too. The surf needs more water, but it will be too dark by the time that happens. Church’s main peak is working, but everyone’s sitting there. Middles doesn’t look as good as it did in the morning, so Bri and I go back to Mons Pubis.

     This time I have the wrong board. I’m on my 6’0 Mini Driver, and I could use the extra volume from the Becker, but I stay committed to my call.

     The surf is lookin’ like two feet with occasional three. I get a few waves here and there, but nothing of great significance. It’s still offshore. The sun’s low and beaming into our faces. Everyone in the lineup holds up his hands, filtering the light with a screen of fingers, searching for the bump on the horizon. It’s been offshore all day. Small but clean. Crowded but not annoyingly crowded. Bri and I know that we exceeded our expectations for stoke today. And maybe local was good back in the South Bay. Maybe our friends did score this morning. And if they did then that’s okay because we scored too.

THE SNEAK SESH, SUN 08DEC2013 EVE

Loc: El Porto

Crew: Bri, Dais

Time: 1530-1715

Conditions: 1-3 FT, scattered peaks, light onshore.

     I shouldn’t be in the water today. There should be no time for it, but I’m off work early after our holiday party. I should still be there, but I told my squad to ditch our clean-up detail. Why not? I was stuck for over an hour last year, so I’m not doing it this year.

     Before going home, Bri and I cruise by Porto. It looks like a nice evening, the wind is light, and the tide is already coming back down, hopefully relieving the symptomatic moosh.

     When we pull into the Porto lot, we see small scattered peaks everywhere, only affected slightly by the north wind. I call Rick, but he’s at his niece’s birthday.    

     “I don’t really feel like surfing,” says Bri.

     “You don’t have to,” I say. I haven’t surfed since Friday, so I’m frothing.

     “No, I’m not gonna let you go out there by yourself so you can tell me what I missed out on. I’m not letting you get that one up on me!” So Bri and pack up the wagon with speed and head back to Porto.

     Before paddling out, I send the DRC Signal to Cheryl, Christina, Khang, and Dais. I tell them: Porto is clean for the evening session.

     When my toes touch the water, I realize that I made the wrong decision by wearing my 3/2. Yes, winter is here. It is fucking freezing. I can only imagine how cold it must have been this morning.

     With the swell on the down slope, this is it. I have to make the best out of this session.

     In the lineup, I worry that I may have made the DRC Signal prematurely. The surf had looked better from the shore, but now . . . eh . . . it’s a little on the walled and racy side. Every wave I catch is running away from me. Since Bri’s on the longboard, she’s able to get into the waves early and make the sections. These are not shortboard conditions.

     About fifteen minutes into the session, and I see Dais on the sand making his way out. It’s so easy to spot him with his long hair in a tail and his long Confucius beard.

     “I was wondering all day when to paddle out,” he says. “Go when the tide’s high or wait until it comes down? And then I got your text.”

     I tell him that you have to be in the right spot and that I haven’t really gotten many waves. But something about Dais’ presence changes my luck. I’m in prime position for a left. Upon popping up, the section is already building. But I pump down the line and get one carve before it closes out.

     Even Bri is getting better rides, finding herself right on the shoulder in expert position for the building sections.

     Once the sun goes down, the water begins to clear out a little. A school of dolphins cruise in front of us.

     “Oh shit!” says Dais. “What’s that?”

     Suddenly I’m not so sure if those are dolphins. There have been so many shark sightings lately. I duckdive the next wave, thinking the worst: jaws upon my face under the black ocean. When I resurface, I see that the number of fins in the water can only mean that they are in fact a school of dolphins.

     On the next peak, Dais is too deep and duckdives, but I’m on the shoulder for the right. As I slide into the face I can’t believe that the shape is holding, so I wind up for a backhand snap. The inside takes some section maneuvering and setting up, but I get a second blast off the lip. Who knew? This evening session wasn’t even planned. I ditched my detail at work to make it in time for an evening session, and now I’m actually scoring some turns, much more fun than the cleaner, crowded session on Friday morning.

     It’s dark when Bri and I leave the lot. We see Dais changing, and we say our goodbyes and plan on meeting up to surf again this week.

     At home, Bri’s decorated our tiny studio. We even have the holiday candles going. She warms up some leftovers from the holiday party. I return Klaude’s phone call from Oahu. He tells me about meeting JOB at Pipeline and how he caught day one of the event right by the competitor’s area. We’re both stoked for each other.

     Kobe Bryant makes his debut, coming off of an eight-month injury. With a mouth full of sweet potatoes, I can’t wait to watch Kobe make his triumphant return over the Raptors, perhaps breaking his eighty-point scoring record. Oh yeah. With good surf and good food, how can anything go wrong tonight?