A Flea Amongst the Top Dawgs of Lowers 073011

Surf Report:  2-4 feet, with the occasional 5 footer

Water: Cold

Wind: Trade winds blowing side to side

Atmosphere: Gloomy

The DRC planned a Trestles trip from a week ago.  This Saturday was supposed to see some swell hit SoCal and so we were all pretty excited about going to Trestles.  The plan was to be on the road by 0515 and get to San Onofre by 0630.

4:00 AM

I woke up at 0400 to get ready.  Christina had called me in the morning when she woke up, and so I did my usual twenty minute yoga routine to get my body going and headed out.  All my stuff was packed up and ready to go.  I figured since we’re going south towards San Diego that I wouldn’t need a wetsuit, and that would just be extra baggage that was unnecessary for the trip.

Christina was ready to go in the morning with her three bags of “stuff.”  I told her she over-packed for a half a day trip to San O, but she said that she needed ALL OF HER STUFF.  Go figure.

Khang calls us while we pull up to Matt’s place.  0500 and he’s already up and ready.  We told him we’ll meet him up at San O.  Christina and I pull up to Matt’s and start loading up all our stuff.  Matt and I strap on the boards to the car, and the four of us, Matt, Lauren, Christina, and myself, set out to San Onofre by 0515.  Right on time.

Don't fly away, boards!!

The drive down was a serene one, busting jokes and the occasional fart from Matt.  We were all pretty excited about the surf trip today, but I tried not to psyche myself out this whole week since I tend to underperform and get screwed over when I do psyche myself up for surf.

When we arrive at San Onofre, Old Man’s wasn’t even breaking.  Churches right in front of us looked dismal, but the occasional pulse would send a nice three wave set and make us froth in our pants. 

Sunrises are always so beautiful

I was the only one to wear boardshorts out of the whole crew.  Ok, let’s be fair.  Christina also was crazy enough to wear some boardshort looking thing too.  We were the most exposed surfers.  Khang, Dais and Cheryl arrived shortly thereafter, and we all took pictures in front of the tree to commemorate our little trip. 

The winds were pretty strong as they blew from the north to the south.  The wind created some chop on the water as we walked down towards Middles and Battle Positions.  We decided to paddle out towards BP’s since it seemed the least crowded out of all the spots…

The water itself wasn’t TOO COLD.  I think the wind chill factor and the lulls in between were killer to me.   Everybody in the line up had a full suit on, and even they were complaining about how cold the water was.  I tried to stay busy and paddle around to keep myself warm.  I caught maybe a wave or two in the first hour, but that was it.  Matt, Dais, and Khang were in the same boat, catching a wave or two in that one hour time frame.  More people filled in the line up, and the lulls made everyone hungry for a wave.

Low Tide at Churches

The longboarders kept going for these mushy, slow rolling waves and couldn’t even catch them.  People hung out on the inside trying to catch the boggers, but that didn’t seem like a working plan either.  All I could see is the greener grass towards Lowers.  My hands started to feel numb and tingly from the cold, and I wasn’t really that stoked at this moment. 

A nice wave perked up on the horizon.  I saw Khang trying to go for it, but he was too outside.  There was another dude going for it, and he did a double paddle, signaling to me that he was determined to catch it.  I let up my paddling just a bit, and that small hesitation cost me.  The dude couldn’t get into it for whatever reason, the wave would have been mine for the taking.  But, I scratched out on it, for I let up just for that split second.  I hesitated, and I lost out.  Matt said that could have been the wave of the day. 

I felt my right foot about to cramp.  Taking a page from Dais’s book, I told myself to not thing about it, and just keep paddling and moving.  I tried to get my heart rate down while pumping my arms and kicking my feet:  an oxymoron, I know.  But it did get the cramp out of my right leg.  I kept paddling further and further north, for the wind was pushing us further south.  That wind was just killer… it reminded me of Diamondhead and how the wind would just push surfers out of position. 

We sensed Matt’s frustration.  He had his grimace/smile that we know is just a cover up for his frustration of lackluster surf.  We could feel it from his aura or mana, or whatever you might want to call it.  I shared in that energy too.  Did we really wake up at 0400 and drive all the way down here to get skunked?  It sure felt like we were getting skunked. 

Earlier, I told Matt that I was going to paddle to Lowers, but I didn’t want to go at it alone.  However, at this point, I had to go.  There was no way in hell am I going to let this swell just pass us up like this.  The opportunity is there, right before my eyes.  I had to get a wave over at Lowers.  I could see from my blindness that the waves were pumping there, and that every surfer on it was cranking out at least two or three turns.  I had to go there.

I paddled and paddled and paddled.  I paddled passed Dais, passed Khang, and passed Matt.  I told Matt I was going to Lowers.  He wished me luck.

I get to the shoulder of the Lowers peak.  Every surfer shredded the shit out of the wave.  A guy would cut back casually into the white foam, pump, and then do a large hack off the top.  Another surfer behind him on the next wave would pump a few times, and pull off a massive hack on the lip. 

I tried not to get too nervous around these guys.  I wanted to pretend like I belonged there, but it was clear that I didn’t.  I got psyched out in the first twenty minutes.  I tried to keep my heart rate down and not get too nervous, but it was too late.  Matt came to the peak too, to keep me company (I think) but by that time, my heart rate had gone way up, and my knee started to cramp.  I tried to shake it off doing the Michael Jackson kick, but then my groin started to cramp.  I had to get out. 

I paddled back out and walked out in pain.  I calmed myself down, and thought about my own behavior on the sand.  All the groms had sponsored boards, and the ones that didn’t were at least 30 or 40 years of age and packed the tight take off zone on the outside.  These were the top dawgs, and the groms were the little pups.  Me?  I felt like a flea amongst the top dawgs.  I wanted to show them that fleas can bite too. 

I got my board under my arm and started to walk back out to Lowers.  The water was still cold, but I tuned it out for now.  I wasn’t going to let the cold water bother me this way.  I paddle out and see Matt catch a long right.  He didn’t do any spectacular turns, but he took the wave all the way to shore.  At least he caught a wave. 

We paddled out together and I went straight for the peak.  I analyzed who was catching the best waves, and where they sat.  There was this guy with orange markings on the shoulders of his black wetsuit.  He obviously wanted to be seen, and he was the stand out local guy.  He almost ran me over on the take off, but he was never in any aggro state.  He almost hit Matt too. 

The mood was super mellow, but you could feel the snickering and the growls under everyone’s breath here at Lowers.  It was a dog eat dog world.  Just a small let up while one sat, and he was out of position from the take off zone.  I stayed on the outside, mimicking the paddle of all the “local guys.”  Most of these guys are probably not “local” but have been surfing this spot for decades, I’m sure.  They had this place dialed in.  They would greet each other with “Hey, long time no see~!” and “How was that one?  Sick turn!”

I complimented a guy on his ride, and he gave me a huge smile and said, “Yea, it’s pretty fun.  Have you gotten one yet?”

“Naw, I haven’t gotten one here.  I paddled from Middles because it wasn’t even breaking over there.”

“Was it better earlier?”

“Yea, it might have been, the tide’s kinda killing it right now.  I’ve been here since about 700” I told him.

“Wow, yea, I couldn’t wake up today… I just got here.”

“Yea, my friends and I woke up at 400 and got here so we could surf some waves, but we kinda got skunked.”

“DAMN!  Where did you come from?”

“L.A.”

“That’s dedication, man,”  he told me.

Sure is…

I watched and observed the top dawgs and their mannerisms.  I paddled behind them, and waited for the set.  I would paddle for the first set, but this old balding guy would take off on the outside of me.  Even though I knew I would have been able to out run him, I didn’t want to upset the hierarchy, so I pulled out as I garnished speed on my paddle.  Of course, I was out of position for the next three waves and paddled towards the shoulder to avoid being run over by the other locals. 

I figured that I needed to position myself just north of the four bathrooms.  I sat, and waited, and paddled, and waited, and paddled more to keep my position. 

Just then, a magical left appeared.  I don’t know what was going on in my mind, but I sure wasn’t focused on catching the wave any more.  I just let the wave pass me up.  This guy on the inside looked surprised that I let that one up, and did a Turn & Go.  He got a few hacks off before the wave closed out. 

I was pissed at myself.

What the fuck am I doing?  Didn’t I come here to surf?  And now, your body is shivering, your hands are numb, your balls are blue, and you passed up a set wave that was just for you.  Mother Ocean was like “Here, show them that a flea can bite the top dawgs” and you basically shit on her gift.  FUCK.  YOUR.  LIFE.

I went for a close out.  I had to.  It was my punishment for passing up a great wave.  I knew it was a close out, but I had to go for it.  It was a left and I air dropped on the mushy white water as it broke.  I felt the white water gobble at my feet and throw me off, then just take me under her large bosom.  I let her take me down, roll me up and spit me out.  I was on the inside now, where all the sets were breaking on top of my head.  I paddled hard to the left so I could get out of the impact zone, and finally made it back out to the line up.  Again, I was south of the porter potties.  I had to paddle back north.

I didn’t do a paddle of shame in from Lowers.  I was determined enough at this point to not do that, although my sense of defeat was overshadowing any feeling of exhilaration or stoke that would be able to pry its way into my head.  If stoke was a key, then the door was a nuclear power plant’s retna and finger scanning touch screen with a fifteen digit pass code only accessible by the White House. 

I hung out on the inside where waves started to pump.  More and more surfers started to come out of the wood works, and this one guy yelled MINE! As he paddled into a wave next to me.  He still got snaked, not by me, and wasn’t all too happy about it.  Every wave was taken by someone other than myself.  When I got a solitary moment alone with the Ocean, I finally got to my feet on a wave and rode it out to the inside.  I had had enough.

I walked back with my head hung low.  I put my chest out and keep my chin up as I walked further away from Lowers.  This flea will be back, for sure. 

Khang whistled me in near Churches.  I paddle out and he and Dais joke that they saw me busting airs and 360’s out in the Lowers line up.  They brought light to the situation, and I was okay with my surf session.  I was still hungry as hell and cold as fuck though.  I didn’t really want to be surfing anymore with just boardshorts.  My whole arm was freezing and I couldn’t even tell if my penis was still there or if it had broken off like an icicle. 

Fuck the Japanese guys:  There were two Japanese surfers in the line up at Churches, and they had the WORST surf etiquette.  They almost ran over me, and Khang, and a few groms.  They had absolutely no regard for other surfers, and were selfishly going for waves without looking around them.  I couldn’t believe that of all people, Japanese surfers would be doing this.  The society of Japan usually frowns upon actions such as this, so it took me by surprise.  Well, I guess every culture has its rotten apples.

I was finished for the day.