New Video: "Sh*t Dude!"

You know that parking lot next to Carl's Jr.'s near the Trestles trail on the Cristianitos exit?  Yeah, that's a State Park lot and you have to pay...  Fun things happen anyway.



Sh*t Dude! from Kookingitup on Vimeo.

Side Show Surfing

I was watching the U.S. Open webcast last Monday as I emptied mountains of boxes into our new home in the 92307.  While the marine layer played it's part in hiding the sun away, everything looked bright and warm out in Huntington Beach which is about 90 miles away from where I live.  Tired of unloading crap that I'll probably never touch or use ever again, I texted Swayze "You down to go watch some surfing and half naked bodies at Huntington Beach on Friday?"  "You had me at naked bodies."  Swayze texted back.

The California dust bowl.

First thing we did was grab some breakfast at The Sugar Shack on Main Street, just a ways from the Huntington Pier.  There we met an old Dogger named Al who ended up having coffee with us at our table, giving us the low down on where to get the best views of the surfers and the revelers.  After breakfast we walked down Main Street to the Pier and ran into the Surfing Hall of Fame Induction, where my favorite big wave charger, Shane Dorian, was being inducted along with Skip Frye and Rockin' Fig.

After that, Al took us over to the middle of the Pier where we watched some of world's best Women and Men's surfing go down, right under our feet.  Literally.  I always thought that The Lane had the best arena style set up for surfing, but from the middle of the Pier, I was right on top of the action.  I could here the competitors paddling, here them grunt and almost feel their spray.  Here are some pics of what went down below us. 

Nat Young getting some air.

Nat Young speeding down the line.

Nat Young's competition, Charles Martin punting one.

Stephanie Gilmore coming directly below us. 

Stephanie Gilmore off a rebound.

Laura Enever took the heat against Gilmore.

We than walked down to the beach where thousands of people sat and watched.  What tripped me out was how knowledgeable the crowd was.  I remember when the second to last Maverick's competition happened when the spectators were allowed to hang out on the hill and cliffs.  I'll put money on it that only about half the crowd knew what was going down.  The other half didn't realize that walking in high heels probably wasn't a good idea.  But this crowd was smart.  Even the pretty girls in g-strings knew what was going down, knew what a hack was and how influential Stephanie Gilmore has been on Women Surfing.  It was pretty refreshing.  I came to a realization, maybe true, maybe not, that surfing is just part of life in SoCal, ingrained in it's culture rather than an irregularity as it is in NorCal.  I'm not trying to put down the place that holds my roots, but it's a fact.

Finally, sun. 

We sat next to the exit and entrance for the competitors.  We watched some of the best women surfers in the world run out.  And some of the most overrated  (you know who I'm talking about).  Here are some pictures from our vantage point.

Bianca Buitendag.

Lakey Peterson.

Carissa Moore

She can out surf probably the top 10 men, seriously.

Out of all the female surfers, I was most impressed by Carissa Moore.  She has the full game folks.  Power surfing, smoothness with a lot of style.  That lady can surf.  Like ya'll didn't know that.  What else tripped me out was Ms. Blanchard.  When she ran out to the beach, her hair was perfect, Mascara was lined up and her skin was radiant and exfoliated.  The lady looked near perfect.  No matter how you look at it, Women's surfing needs Alana just as much as they need Stephanie and Carissa (both beautiful women also).

Ms. Blanchard.

There she goes...

Yeah, she can surf too.

The Van's U.S. Open was interesting to say the least.  It seemed as if surfing was just the side show and all the half naked bodies, booths and loud music were the main attractions.  But at the same time, it's the celebration of surfing in SoCal, the birth of mainland American surfing.  It celebrates the the athleticism, the past, the future, the heros and the foes.  It's all wrapped up in a neat little package for all the world to experience.  For how many people that attended the event, along with the webcast, it is well organized and surprisingly, not crowded even with the thousands of people.  There is a lot of space and always a place to sit and watch the world's best do their thing.  The webcast is great, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't do the spectacle justice.  You have to experience it first hand, full on.  Lots of great things to watch, including surfing.  And even though commercialism has it's greedy little hands on it, you can still feel the celebration of SoCal surfing and the stoke.

Territories

B.D. hugs the world.

I recently returned from holiday (I should call it vacation, I'm American dammit!) from Greece and Turkey.  While in Greece, we visited this small town called Oui (pronounced "ee-ya".  My wife corrected me ten times) on the Greek Island of Santorini.  The sunrise and sunsets were unimaginably beautiful on this island.  Never have I seen the sun rise and fall as I did during our 3 days on Santorini.  You'd think I'd sleep in while on vacation, drink tea at ten with a side of fruits.  But no, not The B.D.  I woke up around 4:45 a.m. each morning, put on my slippers and walked east and watched the sunrise over Oui's eastern hillside.  Watching the sun wake up and cascade it's rays against the back of Oui's virgin white houses left me blessed every morning. 

On the first morning I met this cute, happy dog.  He always had this big, stoked out smile, as if he was just happy to see another sunrise.  As it goes in Greece, no one really owns the dogs or cats.  They are all strays, free to roam and siesta under the shades of bustling tourists and under cars.  Rather than a single family owning them, the town or city owns them, vaccinates and hospitalizes them and so on.  The town folks put food and water outside of their door steps to feed them, most of the time in front of their shops.  One local O.G. told me that the strays keep the rodent population down.  And to my surprise, all the strays I met during my trip we're friendly, giving me smiles and allowing me to pet and take pictures of them, for a nominal tip that is.

My buddy Joe

We'll "Joe" (That's what I called him, which is better then "Hey dog" or "Here puppy, puppy") would meet me every morning.  I'd buy him some scraps of meat the night before and give it to him while we sat on stoops and stair cases watching the sun bring life to another day.  He was a good buddy, and even though he was Greek and probably spoke Greek in dog language, we understood each other just fine.  He would sit by my side, lick my face, I'd rub his soft fur and we'd talk story for a few hours each morning.  He said he'd even Facebook me once I got back to the States. 

Joe scoping for the best spot to watch the sunrise.

After watching the sunrise and watching it come to a point where it got hot enough to where I needed shade, I'd start making my way west to the village center to pick up some morning brew.  Joe would follow me about a quarter of the way into the center of Oui but he would always stop at a certain point.  I would always look back thinking I had lost him but find him at the top of this stair case looking at me with this hesitant half smile, half nervous look, saying with his eyes, "Shit dude, I don't know if I can do this."  I would try to bribe him with bacon and beer, but he could never step over that certain line.  So as it goes, I would tell him "αντίο!" and he would say the same to me and we would go our own ways.  

After a few days of getting dissed by my buddy Joe over my breakfast plans, I finally figured out why he couldn't come with me.  The city has about twenty to thirty stray dogs who litter certain parts of the town.  The dogs are we'll cared for, clean and usually just lay there as tourist shuffle by.  But each part of town is owned by packs.  And the part of town that I enjoyed my coffee and snacks was also enjoyed by the biggest king pins of them all, who I will call Andre, Pete and Samantha.  

Andre, Pete and on the far end, Samantha.

None of the dogs crossed the "King Pin" Line.  If another dog from another hood would try and cross the line, Samantha would just have to give a look and Andre and Pete would be all over that ass.  From my observations, Samantha was the leader of this outfit, and well respected by all dogs and humans.  She owned one of the most beautifulest views not only in town, but probably in the world.  The view from her spot was so beautiful that it didn't look real, it looked like you were watching it in high def at AT&T Park.  

Samantha and her view.  She gets the best spot.  Locals only.

So I finally understood why Joe couldn't come over to my side.  So instead of trying to prod Joe over to the Westside, I found a cafe just east of the center, get my coffee and snacks and hang out with Joe all morning.  I spent my last day with my buddy Joe, and I sure miss him.  

Are you down with the Eastside or Westside?

Looking back, I think my experience with Joe was foreshadowing of my future.  Like a good book, it all started to make more sense.  As of mid July, my roots and all that I belong moved 450 miles south of San Francisco to the city of San Diego, crossing that dreaded line somewhere in Bakersfield or the Grapevine, making me a now SoCal resident.  Due to "great" circumstances in regards to my wife's professional growth, she dragged me kicking and scratching to my new home that is just five minutes away from Scripps Pier.

If your not from California, then I don't think you can understand how our territories go down in this state.  Here in the great (let's say greatest) state of California, we have Northern, Central and Southern California.  And each Californian throws up their pride for where they live.  It's not how, but rather who we are.  And I am what you call a NorCal for life type of guy, not matter where I go.  Yes, I lived my younger days on the Big Island, but I was born in Kali and have lived in the Bay for over 20 years.  It's where I became a man, met my wife, shed blood and tears and learned to surf.  Moving territories to a place that is far from what I know is leaving me like Joe, half smiling about the new adventure and warm weather, but hesitant and nervous at the same time, saying to my self, "Shit dude, I don't know if I can do this."  But after my first week here in San Diego, I don't think it's going to be that difficult ;)

Things that I will miss about my beloved Bay:  Jackets in the summer.  Kung Pao Pastrami, Salt Cod Fried Rice and Chingqing Chicken Wings at Mission Chinese Food.  Salted Carmel at Bi-Rite.  Crossing the Bay Bridge and seeing the City come to me.  Foggy summers.  Ice cream headaches.  All my best friends, and they know who they are.  4/3's during the summer and 5/4's during the winter.  Getting paddled around by Panama Red.  Santa Cruz kelp.  Firework nights at A's games.  Watching the Warriors win the NBA Finals (future missing).  Taco Trucks on E. 14th Street.  Betty Burgers.  Layering.  Spot checking at O.B. but never finding a spot.  Noriega.  Linda Ma..... Na, I won't miss that.  

Anyways, here's to a new life in San Diego where the water is a bit warmer and Trestles is a lot closer.  Please keep tabs on the blog for new adventures.  I plan on going international surfing once a month, so keep in touch.  The blog will continue, and I will always be "Just another Northern California surfer trying to perfect the art of the cut back while trying to stay warm in his 4/3."  Except I'll be trunking it from June til September ;)

SoCal....  Yeah.

PS.  Just added on August 2, 2013.  Here is a video from our trip through Greece and Turkey this past summer.



τουρίστας/ Turist from Kookingitup on Vimeo.

Lessons Learned

Yeah, we all think we are waterman of some sort.  We know how tides work, how winds can free our waves and kill them, what "fetch" is and where our waves come from.  We know how to duck dive and take a beating.  We all think we can ride big waves.  We're all geniuses of some sort until a mega swell hits and we are standing on the shore whispering to ourselves "What the fuck am I getting myself into?".  Yeah, I had that moment on June 7, 2013.  I just stood their with good 'ol Panama Red somewhere on the Eastside of Santa Cruz at a spot that is usually a non lethal, forgiving, long board wave.  362 days out of the year I wouldn't be caught dead paddling out at this spot, but on June 7, 2013, this spot got major.  We're talking world class major.  We're talking about 40 yard double barrel's, with the hope of getting a third barrel at the "Pipe".  Yeah, epic would sum it up.  Let's add two more words, nerve-racking.  All the "wisdom" I thought I knew, yeah, after five hours of non-stop washing machine/ getting blown up/ eyes popping out of my head/ hitting bottom/ paddling for my life/ ride of my life/ walls forever/ barrels...  I really didn't know shit.  Here are some lessons learned from the last mega south swell. 

Lesson numero uno:  Never go for the first wave during a mega swell, especially a south swell.

No one else was paddling for them, so why not?  All I saw was guys paddling out deep, letting the first go by.  So I paddled for it.  And my kook butt went for the first sectioning barrel.  I was in it for about three seconds, but I surfed the barrel horribly and didn't make it out.  Where was I when I came out of the washing machine?  Directly in the impact zone.  When I popped my head up from the foam from hell,  all before me were lined up bombs coming straight for my head, the first one with a guy so deep in the barrel that he looked like one of those circus fellas getting ready to be shot out of a cannon.  And he was coming straight for my head.  He missed me.  But the six mega bombs that followed didn't.  And this leads me to my second lesson.

Lesson numero dos:  Never let go of your board.

As I was getting tumbled and humbled, I held on to my board for dear life.  I had just got done reading a chapter out of Gerry Lopez's book "Surf Is Where You Find It", and he talked about getting his most violent hold down at Pipe.  So violent that he had an out of body experience.  Gerry wrote that he's biggest mistake was letting go of his board.  While getting knocked around, I remembered G-Lo's wise words and bear hugged my board like their was no tomorrow.  I saw guys ditching their boards left and right then coming up for air with their eye's popping out of their heads and panting like a dog that just chased two cars around the block.  My board saved my life that day.  No, f-ing, doubt.

Lesson numero Tres:  Take three deep breaths before you know your about to get pounded.

I paddled for my life during some sets.  There was one set in particular that looked like it had no end.  I swear I paddled over six waves and was half way to Monterrey but they still kept coming.  And they kept breaking farther out.  My shoulders were burning and my lungs were at overdrive, and with the monster wave of the set coming straight for my head, I knew and everybody else around me knew that we didn't have a chance.  I accepted it, that I was going to get rag dolled like I had never been.  But I told myself that I had to be calm, go to a "safe place" in my head and take three deep breaths.  As the wave approached, I took the three deepest breaths ever.  By the second breath, I was calm, my "fight or flight" response had eased and my thoughts were pretty clear.  After the third breath, I knew I was going to be o.k. and then BOOM!  I was in washing machine heaven, saying hello to Tide, All and it's family of fabric softeners. But I let it all go, let the wave do it's thing, held on to my board and found my way back up.  The three breath rule worked and it led me to this final lesson.

Lesson numero cuatro:  Hold your ground.

(I want to put up a disclaimer on this lesson.  Try this particular advice/ lesson at your own risk.)

I had a pretty good feel for the swell after a couple hours of getting beat down, but at the same time catching some of the rides of my life.  The set waves were coming in so frequently that it became obvious that there were going to be at least six waves per set.  I wanted the third wave of each set.  Perfect size and shape for my skill set.  But for me to remain in position for the third wave, I had to take a beating, sometimes before the wave but most times after it if I didn't make the sections.  But I was tactful, really trying to calculate my way to the take off point, while adjusting my position according to the tide.  It took a lot of my nerve as I lined up a bit inside knowing that this swell was not going to let up for anybody.  That swell just wanted to eat people up.  It was starving like Marvin and the only thing that could satisfy it's hunger was human flesh, epoxy, PU, foam and fear.  But I used my breathing techniques, took my beatings and caught some of the rides of my short lived surf life.  All to holding my ground, breathing and letting that pretty little first wave roll under my board.  Yeah, I was fearful at times and backed off on a number of death defying would be drops.  But on this day, nobody was like "Damn!  If you paddle for it you have to go!"  No, everybody that day was like "Damn, that was a fucking bomb!"  No shame in my game.

That swell was one of the largest and most powerful south swells I ever surfed in (pretty much up there with the swell at El Salvador but about 5 feet smaller).  But let's be honest, I have only been surfing for about two and a half years, so that ain't saying much.  But it was big and full of raw energy.  I guess when the South Pacific wants to unleash it's power, watch out.

I guess the final lesson learned was just knowing my limitations.  The swell peaked during late noon on June 7th.  When I saw how straight up "Mondo" it had gotten, I held my ground with the fellas and sat that session out.  There were rides to be ridden, but a lot of just mega closed out bombs that usually would of held up at this particular spot that usually catches the wrap pretty well.  But this spot couldn't even handle it.  Do I regret sitting out that session?  No way.  Besides, I lived another day to surf, and the next day was just as good.  I'd go into more detail, but that's for another entry : )

Drowning Fear

DROWNING FEAR from Matt B. Taylor on Vimeo.

Great shots of our beaches up north and interesting commentary.

Electric Blue Heaven

GLOBE'S ELECTRIC BLUE HEAVEN from GLOBE on Vimeo.

Yeah, if I had this in my back yard, I'd be throwing airs too.

Cy's Sunrise Lefts

Cy's Sunrise Lefts from www.KORDUROY.tv on Vimeo.

This short always gives me secondary stoke when I need it.