The Aloha Spirit 101511

Surf Report: 4-5 feet

Winds: Off shore to on shore in a heart beat

Atmosphere: Sunny

Water: Cold

I slept over Matt’s house, engulfing mounds of taquitos, papusas, and chocolate brownies with ice cream, while watching scenes from Innersection and Lost Atlas.  Lost Atlas was… weird.  It had more acoustic music than Kai Neville’s last film, Modern Collective.  The surfing was great, and the interviews/talks were awesome too.  I probably have to watch it a few more times to fully appreciate this surf porn.  I would give it 7.5 stars out of 10. 

So, we go to sleep at 1230.  Matt, like the champion he is, is able to sleep four hours and charge dawn patrol… me, I’m an old man, and I need my continuous six hours of sleep at least to charge on a Saturday morning.  

I slept on Matt’s comfortable couch, but moved to the floor.  I tried to sleep on the floor, but the light penetrated the window, so I had to move back to the couch.  I removed the pillows and discovered his couch is HUGE.  Next time… next time…

I woke up to Matt hanging over me with the lamp in the living room on.  It was already past 630… shit.

We make our way down to his car and start packing up all my stuff into his car and take off north.  Rick and Manny let us know how Oxnard was breaking, and they said it was no good.  Too much shore pound, too much water (and, it’s only low tide.)  They opt to surf Malizoo.

We check 26^th Street and the place looks dismal.  We see Mikey there with his big iron jaw and gorgeous smile that is chiseled out of marble, along with a few of the other local guys we see all the time.  We chit chat, and decide to leave this spot.  I let Dais, Khang, and Tom Yam know what’s up with 26^th Street.

Tom Yam said he was checking out Torrance beach as we made our way on to the 405 South.  Matt suggested we even go down to San Onofre.  It was a day off for me, so I was willing to go anywhere for surf, but my mind was telling me to take a nap.  I couldn’t… I was sitting shot gun!

Dais and Khang wanted to head to Newport, but we convinced them to stick by Brookhurst.  Matt and I arrive at Brookhurst and tell them both where we parked.  We get changed and head down to the beach.

Matt see’s white water exploding on the sand, but I couldn’t see much.  He looks amped and stoked.  I for one, was tired still.  I tried to keep my energy level up, but my mind was telling me otherwise.  This reminded me of the time in Trestles where I couldn’t get a lick of sleep and we surfed five footers at Middles. 

Boy, was my mental state in the gutter.

Matt paddles out and immediately catches a right.  He hacks off the top, throwing out spray.  He cuts back, and while he does this, I go for a right.  I grab on to the wall with my trailing hand and eat it.  Matt looks happy. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” I asked.

After a few minutes, we see ourselves drifting halfway to the next lifeguard station.  Holy crap, the current was strong!!  We had to paddle back.  A rogue set appears, and I get caught on the inside.  I get tossed and turned and let go, only to see a few more bombers roll through.  They weren’t gnarly hold downs by any standards, but they were surely Mother Ocean’s way of telling me “You’re not welcomed here today.”

I was expecting a session like this today, not just because of the lack of sleep, but because I’ve been scoring some fun, mushy waves in the South Bay.  Huntington is a more high performance wave, and with higher performance, comes higher probability of eating shit.  After what seemed like an endless paddle to catch up to Matt, I found myself still half way to the other lifeguard tower.  Matt waves me down, pointing to shore.  Dais and Khang have arrived…

I sit.  I wait.  I eat it on the inside.  I lose sight of Matt. 

“Take a nap, god damnit,” my mind says. 

My joints were hurting, my mind was slow and sluggish, and my reaction time was totally off on even the minute task of duck diving.  So, I paddle in, set up my board to create a shade, and sleep. 

I think I kept my eyes closed and breathed for a good twenty minutes.  Flies that were munching away on the seaweed right by me started to land on my face, but that really didn’t bother me.  I just wanted to sleep.

I woke up, and found that the waves are crumbling from on shore winds.  Just like that, those barreling sections that we arrived to had disappeared like a redneck at a hoe down, and I was all alone.

I walked up to the 3^rd lifeguard station because Matt would always be position where he said he would be.  Today was an exception.

I paddled out, tried to get a wave or two, ate it, and paddled back in.  I walked back to 3^rd, paddled back out, did the same, came back in.  This continued for about six rounds.

One wave that I caught was an outsider which I was able to easily paddle into.  I didn’t have to grab rail or anything to make the drop, and was able to do a small pump before dropping in to the bottom of the wave.  The wave closed out behind me, but I couldn’t make it around the white water section as I would have liked to.  I was still super stoked to finally catch a wave of consequence and make it out alive.

The board for the surfer I want to be finally rode a wave that it was made for.  The only problem was the surfer wasn’t the surfer he wanted to be. 

I got tired after six rounds of running back and forth between tower 4 and tower 3.  I grew increasingly alone, with no one to really talk to, since people were getting washed around constantly.  I was almost ran over by two guys who popped airs after dodging around me.  Oh, HB, how high performance you are…

I walked back to the car in hopes of Matt being there to no avail.  I walked back, paddled back out, and got sent home by the white wash.

“You’re not welcomed here,” she roared at me.

I sat on the beach, beaten and battered, but surprisingly, no ego hurt.  Perhaps there wasn’t an ego to hurt at this point. 

I then see Dais, Khang and Matt walking towards me.  It was the most welcoming sight of the morning.  We reconvene and talk story about the mornings happening.  I was the struggler, Dais was the wiper, Khang was the snake, and Matt finally got his wish of riding a fast left. 

We all departed at the street parking on Brookhurst, and Matt and I made our way to the freeway.  I wasn’t really bummed at all for this day, since I knew why I didn’t surf well.  I needed some sleep!  But now, my stomach grumbled… even after all those taquitos, papusas and chocolate brownie with ice cream, my body craved nourishment.

We stop in at Bob’s Hawaiian Okazuya, a spot in Gardena.  The vibe there was amazing, with all these Hawaiians eating lunch, with a take out spot with beef curry, chili, banana leaf rice, beef stew, and the like in heat sinks.  A live Hawaiian band started to play on their ukulele and slack key guitar.

The food was great!  The Ahi poke was a bit expensive for the portion, but it tasted great.  The chicken katsu was perfect, the chow mein was amazingly tasty, the mac salad was normal (I’m not a big fan of mayo) but the nori-maki fried chicken was bland.  Maybe it was meant to be served by itself.  But everything else seemed so powerful and tasty that the fried chicken was just… bland. 

I then see a short, large Hawaiian woman with an angry look on her face.  I’ve seen this face before.  We’re in trouble!  She had the angry look of an Aunty that you broke something valuable and hid in the back yard of her house, only for her to dig it up while planting some tomatoes.  My heart skipped a beat.  Turns out this lady was Cynthia, an old co-worker of Matt’s from Honda.  She was here with her husband, Paul, and their son who I forgot his name.  They were just back from a soccer game where their son’s team had won, 2-0.  We all talked like we’ve known each other for years, and after a few minutes, we departed. 

I was stoked for this whole day.  Not even eating shit multiple times at HB would bring me down.  The journey we took and the people we met today were amazing.  It definitely reminded me of the day we met Clay Marzo.  Just everything seemed to fall into place.  My belly was full (or half way full) and we headed back to Matt’s house to watch The Forgotten Coast.  We (again) engulfed Ghiradelli chocolate brownie topped off with ice cream.  Hell, if you’re indulging, might as well go balls deep, right?  No need in just eating half ass. 

Mahalos Mother Ocean for a valuable lesson in the importance of sleep (once again) and a big Mahalos to Matt for letting me crash at his pad. The Aloha Spirit is alive and well.