Two Waves That Made The Trip

Swayze and I kooking it up at Scripps in San Diego.

The very first real tube that I ever experienced was when I was about twelve years old while boogie boarding at Kua Bay on the Kona side of the Big Island.  I remember making the drop on a glassy, smooth shore break.  I went right and I remember being surprised that the wave wasn't closing out and smacking me on the head.  I remember things slowing down and watching the lip curl over my head.  I was riding the tube clean, not feeling any chandeliers, just noticing water spinning and things getting very slow and somewhat dark from the wave bottoming out and draining the sand from below in it's soft swirl.  It got pitched dark in the tube from all the sand and I remember thinking that I was being sucked into another galaxy by this wet worm hole.  To make sure I was still on earth and present, I yelled "Aye!", and I remember that word echoing all the way down the line in pitch black wonder.  I don't remember the tube closing out, or getting rolled, but I do remember washing up on the beach in a deep, somewhat spiritual trance.  I sat on the beach for a few minutes until an older manong swam in, telling me he was proud of me for riding that hawaiian sized beach break barrel.  It's one of those experiences that I can never forget, it's something that I have cherished all my life and have retold a million times.  But I still needed the experience of making it out.

The Sunset posted up at Uppers. 

The Sunset (the present go to board of my quiver) and I had a great three days at Trestles last week.  With a fantastic south swell going off over a five day stretch, many waves were enjoyed but only two stand out in my memory.  Just like that wave at Kua when I was twelve, these two waves will always be remembered and retold a million times over. 

Windansea in San Diego.

Wave #1:  March 26, 2013, dawn patrol.

I made my way to Lowers before the sun had peaked over the hills behind me.  I walked the dirt trail in dark with a flash light, over the train tracks, passed Middles and over to where all the bikes, backpacks and towels rested against washed up tree branches and trash cans.  Just as the sun started to set, I paddled out with the Sunset under my chest, a lone agent amongst fifteen locals.  I paddled just inside of the point and hanged out with some of the locals who were just ripping each set wave that came through to shreds.  As one of the old timers paddled back from an overhead, beauty of a wave that just peeled right into the cobble stone shores, in a soft but stoked tone I said to him "Great wave!".  The old timer was beaming with a smile and couldn't hold himself back from telling me how perfect the wave lined up.

After about an hour and a couple waves into the session I paddled out to the point after a set had just emptied the lineup.  It was just me and the old timer that I had talked to earlier.  All of a sudden, a couple of clean over head peaks came our way and it was just me and the old timer on the outside.  The old timer looked over at me and said "I'll take the first.  You take whatever's behind."  As he turned to take the first wave, I just continued to paddle out.  If you have ever surfed Lowers as a tourist, you don't get really much chances at the classic, lined up overhead wave that this point produces.  And in my mind at that moment, I wasn't taking the second or third wave of the set, I was going for the one that looked the biggest.  And the fifth wave of this set had those thoughts written all over it.

As I saw it coming, I took a deep breath, turned and paddled.  I felt it lift me and without much effort I was gliding on the top of it.  I pushed myself up, leaned forward with my weight going right and shot down the wave.  I could see the wave all the way down the line, lined up perfectly, no sections, just classic Lowers glass.  For some reason, I had patience running through my veins that morning and instead of making that robotic bottom turn, I stuck my right hand in the wave and enjoyed that moment.  I could see the wave getting steeper, so I pulled up a little high on the wave, and I instinctively crouched and brought my limbs closer to my body and all of a sudden a little crescent curl started to form above my head.  I kept my right hand in the wall of the wave and my left hand stretched out straight like Superman. I could see somebody down the line smiling and I knew then I was in it.  This time I noticed no darkness, all I saw was the light from the sun transform as it shined through the hollowness of the waves liquid, thin lip.  And things slowed down.  I could see the water slowly rise from the bottom of the wave and move upwards as it curled and splashed back down to where it started into small, snowy white particles.  As I shot out of this mini tube, I stood up straight, looked up in the air and felt the wind blow against my black hair.  I think I closed my eyes, trying to lock this moment into the file cabinet in my mind labeled "all time".

I did it, finally did it.  And it was at Lowers of all places.  Later on, the old timer talked to me about my wave and said it was the wave of the day and that it rarely gets hollow like that, especially with how high the tide was that morning.  "It was just meant to be," said the old timer.  Guess it was.

Alberto and his Shark.

I met Alberto at Cottons the next day as the swell died down.  Alberto is from Spain and surfed the Canary Island's for years.  We talked for a bit in and out of the water.  "Why don't you come down to the Bay and we'll surf Ocean Beach and Santa Cruz,"  I said.  "I heard about the locals at Santa Cruz," Alberto replied.  "It's pretty true bro," I said with a little resentment.  "When I was living in Spain," Alberto said, with that foggy, down memory lane look, "I surfed the Canary Islands.  The locals there are for real.  I tried to get into the lineup and they would just swear and cuss at me to "get the fuck out" of there."  "It took me six months before they accepted me into the line up.  Six months.  That shit was real."  I enjoyed the story Alberto told me, but he has yet to experience the locals of Santa Cruz.  I guess this tripped me out because Santa Cruz's reputation extends in this instance from SoCal all the way to Spain (in Alberto's case).  But Alberto can rip, no doubt.

Wave #2:  March 26, 2013 at sunset. 

I love to surf Cottons.  The wave has such a perfect slope to it.  While everybody runs to Lowers and Uppers during low tide, I run to Cottons.  Cottons is known for it's long, beach break lefts.  Now and then,  a great right will lineup, but usually it's all lefts, peeling, perfect rampy walls that beg to be shredded by us novices.  I usually line up with this great huge mansion on the top of the hill just north of the County Line.  If I drift north of the mansion, I just get caught up with a bunch of the goofy footers who dominate this spot.

For some odd reason I was a bit north of my landmark.  All I could think was 'How the hell did I get here?  I'm sure that I was on the other side of the mansion just a few minutes ago'.  And due to this being the third session of the day, I was a bit tired and not in the mood to peak hunt.  So I just sat there, enjoyed the sun and watched pelicans fly by into the dusk.

Then all of sudden a set came.  I pretty size able one.  The first wave that came looked like a right.  'Am I seeing this correctly?' I asked myself.  I had heard some of the guys in the lineup talking about all the rights that lined up the previous day, but with the swell was starting to fade, and I didn't want to believe that this was happening.  No matter, I just turned and paddled.  As the wave took me, it was confirmed, this was a right.  It took me a second to make it to the bottom this wave, not because it was huge, but because the slope of this wave was so perfect that I could make a mellowed, controlled drop.

I was just waiting for the wave to close out as most of the rights do at Cottons, but it didn't.  It just kept going.  As I was a quarter through this wave when I said to myself 'Well do something kook!'  So with ease, I placed my front foot correctly near the middle of The Sunset, set up my bottom turn and made a couple "Whaps!" on the lip of the wave.  After my second crappy snap I noticed I was way ahead of the curl.  So I crouched and made a real deep bottom turned, released, made it to the hollow top part of the wave and all I could tell myself was "commit you kook!"  I looked back at the curl and leaned on the heal of my front foot as my back foot put weight on my backside fin and felt my board take this smooth 180 degree turn.  All of sudden I felt this "Pop!" as my right outside fin released from the water allowing me to turn fully into the wash completing a true cutback.  I saw the wash and was amazed!  'I did it'.  As I was about to hit the foam from the curl, I instinctively threw my arms to the right along with my eyes and my board skimmed across the foam and leveled me at a decent amount of speed as I continued back across the green face of the wave.

As I was paddling back, the kook in me wanted to know if I really made a cutback.  There was a guy paddling back who gave me a nod as I was riding the wave.  So like a damn kook, I found him in the lineup and paddled over and asked "Dude, I'm going to ask you the most kookiest question ever..."  "No problem, go ahead," the guy replied trying to hold back his laughter.  "Did I just do a cutback?"  "You did a great cutback!"  Dude replied.  Hell yes!

I surfed one more day at Trestles as the swell died down.  Here is a video of Cottons on my last day at Trestles.  Even when it's small, it is such a fun wave without much of a crowd.

Cottons P.M. from Kookingitup on Vimeo.

After that Wednesday, the swell died down and there wasn't much surf.  So I headed more south to San Diego and hanged with my best bud, Swayze.  I also met up with Cynthia and we watched "A Deeper Shade Of Blue".  Great surf flick, but on IMAX, it looked more like a Deeper Shade of Green.  Swayze and I surfed Scripps once, but most of the time was spent eating burritos at Lucha Libre.  After eating the "Undefeated Seafood Burrito" at Luch Libre, I needed a bigger board.  Swayze is just learning how to surf, and I think he has it in him.  He's not scared of big waves, and he can actually paddle himself into waves without a push.  Another kook is born.

Swayze and I heading out at Scripps.

It was great surfing in SoCal, taking off the booties and riding almost perfect glassy waves.  But don't get me wrong, nothing beats our NorCal waves with it's ice cream headaches and numb toes.  With the summer south swells, there will be more memorable waves on the horizon.  And hopefully, another tube or two.

The Bay gave this to me as I drove over the Altamont.