San O

Two turns later, I fell off because my balance was all screwy and I couldn't hold on, but hey, with creative cropping, a person can dream...



Thanks to Birthday Boy for sending along the picture.

Hurts So Good

Do you know how far it is to paddle out to Old Man's at San O?
1,216 kilometers. No joke.
I got this measuring tape in Europe and it only gives the metric system.

Holy crap am I out of shape. Besides the long paddle-out, which wasn't so bad really, I was paddling with futile desperation for waves that wouldn't break. A combination of regularly surfing beach breaks and being on a board I haven't used much in a year completely psyched me out on San O's rolling waves. Surf Sister and I took a trek down for a friend's birthday session and found ourselves laughing at how many waves rolled under us as we paddled furiously. When we finally got into the groove, I looked up only to see an outside set wave coming in. Turtled. And another, and another... I must have turtled 15 waves in a row. By the time I made it outside again you could stick a fork in me. I was done.

Nice skies, beautiful waves. Good day. But I knew I was going to pay for it in the morning.

And if that wasn't enough to knock me on my ass this weekend, I saw these old fogies later on in the evening. Rock on, Whiffleboy! Seriously, I don't know how you can sustain that level of energy on stage. It was impressive and infectious. I look forward to the band's 20 year reunion.

Sunday morning came and I was in pain, but I was deluded into thinking that moving around would help dissipate the soreness. I probably should have taken it as a sign when I couldn't lift the heavy Cooperfish into the car, but instead, I opted for the weirdo board. Glad I did, because it was totally fun at my pitching beach break.

I learned, though, that moving through the pain really doesn't help.

Malibu - it was a dark and stormy night...

5:30am is DARK.

6:00am is still dark, but you can kind of see enough to understand why a couple people were driving up, looking, and pulling away.

Weird onshores were blowing out Malibu. Oh. Goodie. I'd only surfed Malibu once before -- a sunset session at second point when it was overhead. Last night, I'd decided that I wanted to surf SOMETHING of this south swell and since it was closing out my beach breaks and I'd already lost my performance longboard. If I wanted to surf, I'd either have to crack out the weirdo board (which I haven't surfed in a year) and go to Porto or lug out the Cooperfish and try to do some walking at a point.

Malibu was the choice. The junky conditions de-crowded the break, so I was only surfing with a dozen other people who were all quite nice. Mellow. It's a nice introduction for me because I have such psychological hang-ups when I get to a point break that I find myself choking because of all the mental pressure to prove that I can surf... and I should probably take the note that nobody REALLY cares how well you can surf.

Still, though, I don't understand the point break wave. I understand how the wave curls around the back of the board to hold you in when you're walking to the nose... It just doesn't happen to me. I'm just not very adept at getting the board in that trim position all the time. I feel like I need two solid hours with no one around to just mess up and be a goof and figure it out.

And then there were three...

9'7" Cooperfish Hornet - heavy volan glass with fin patch (I am the second owner)

9'0" Surf Prescriptions aka "Doc II" - performance board with 2+1 fin set-up which I have converted to a thruster on big days, round pintail with a bump (First owner, custom made for me)

7'0" Small Faces aka "Weirdo" - 30-year-old beak nose single-wing diamond-tail singlefin (I don't know its history)

7'0" Guy Okazaki aka "Dragon" - alien shape thruster (I am the second owner)

Doc II
RIP
March, 2004 - September 19, 2006
Ocean Park, Santa Monica, California

REMINDER: next board

This is just a reminder for me:

http://surfysurfy.blogspot.com/2006/09/true-blue.html

http://surfysurfy.blogspot.com/2006/09/big-blue-beauty.html

When I feel like I've gotten to a good place with my Cooperfish and when I feel like I deserve a new art-piece type board, I'm going to get a real flat pointbreak board like this.

I smell like Paris Hilton

We just got a package from the CEO who distributes Paris Hilton's fragrances. And for all the sea-water and bacteria screwing with my olfactory system, I don't think it smells half bad. The women's scent on my left wrist is starting to smell like cotton candy -- which is starting to make me crave funnel cakes. I actually like the men's fragrance on my right wrist better.

Kick-out

A triathalon in Venice denied any northbound ideas I had, so I ended up at Porto. Crowded. Mostly guys. Greeeeeaat. I had wanted to try to up my game at better breaks with more aggressive peers, so I guess there's no time like the present. Infrequent chest-shoulder-high set waves. Waist high tweeners during the lulls. Slow-going at first for me, but then I got into the rhythm and had my share of decent shoulders.

I finished most of my frontside waves today with kick-outs. The only one I bunked was a wave that closed out immediately. Still grabbing my rail out of the backsides, though.

I had a super kick-out on my last wave -- which I didn't think was going to be my last wave which is why I kicked out in the first place... Just as I directed the board up and over, I saw a bigger set wave breaking almost on top of me. Nothing quite like kicking out of a wave only to see your wave's big brother looming, ready to pummel you. I turtled that one only to see another. I quickly decided that I didn't have enough money left on the meter to make it worth suffering through battling out the set waves, so I took the whitewash in.

I've noticed that since I've started concentrating on kicking out frontside, I've magically begun to do frontside top turns. What a RUSH!

Happy Anniversary, Me!

Labor Day marks the four-year anniversary of me and surfing in California. I remember that first Labor Day after I'd scoured the Internets for How-tos and Rules and traveled up and down PCH looking for a used board. (Even then I knew what I wanted, although I didn't have the vocabulary to say what it was.) After going up to Malibu and hopping into stores and came back to be more gas efficient about finding a board by calling down the phone book listings looking for an 8-foot longboard in the $200 range, I decided to take a walk in my neighborhood to get some smokes (oh, those days). I decided to check out the mod-looking Board Gallery (which moved to Lincoln Blvd. this year).

I'd walked by the shop maybe a hundred times before, and after a day of unsuccessfully finding a board, 20 miles away, I found the perfect thing right across the street. They showed me the back room where stacks of used boards hung out. I didn't know it then, but I was looking at some classic boards that cost five times what I was looking to spend. He showed me an 8'6" longboard that had just come in on consignment for a little over $200... it had a neon orange nose and an art deco blue fade through the middle to a white round pintail and three fins. (A pintail with a slight bump at the rails with glassed-on thruster set-up, I was later to find out.) There was a big Rx logo and Ray told me the board was about 10 years old, signed at the stringer by the shaper... Jeff "Doc" Lausch.

Yup. That was my first Doc. I took him up to County Line (which I didn't know was called County Line) on Labor Day. I stayed out of the other surfers way like I'd read in the How Tos and Rules, and I died.

For the next month or so, I'd die on the weekends at Venice, walking my board to the beach, and again at County. Then I started dying on the weekdays, too. On one driving excursion, I rolled into what is now known as the "home break." I think what made me stay there is what makes a lot of people start there... the convenience. Parking and easy walk-out. Three days a week turned to every morning. Sometime, between paddling the distance of six lifeguard towers and back and just turtling through some hairy autumn close-outs, I stopped dying and started catching waves.

Lordy, I loved that board. RIP at overhead Topanga and Doc Lausch made me a 9'0" version with slightly down rails, hard at the tail with the bump and round pin. Lordy, I love this board! And I do believe I'm getting verklempt about how we had a great anniversary today with peaky shoulder-high stuff and all the family under the sun.

Dialogue

To the anonymouses (anonymai?) who commented on my last post... yes, I always give waves up to people who have priority - no matter new or experienced. (In fact, one of the surfers this weekend commented how I was pretty good at giving up waves in crowded situations... and I've found that I get a good number of priority take-offs in return.) That's not my point. My point in the last post was actually about me overcoming my non-conflict nature and giving suggestions to people who can actually take off on waves, but don't understand how beautiful a skill controlling your board can be.

I cannot wax any more superlative on the subject of a kick-out. It's such a gorgeous way to finish a wave. There are a couple really great surfers at my home break who can surf shortboards and longboards, but it's when they kick-out on a board longer than 9 feet that I have palpitations. In the chaos of a beach break wave that's closing out, they always finesse that board up and over the wave in a perfectly timed and effortless kick-out. About half the time, I can kick-out frontside, most of these are little baby kick-outs and nothing like the powerful arcs of these other surfers. Once in a while, I'll actually kick-out like they do and that's when I feel like a giant. On the backside kick-out, I'm still useless. I rely too much on kneeling, grabbing the rail, and pulling into the wave, sometimes in a cover-up, but mostly to punch out the other side.

But at least I'm not letting my board go.

I know I'm not at any kind of advanced level of surfing, but I do know I'm at a transition point right now. I'm not sure surfing is a kind of sport that you actually "master" because there always seems to be something else you can work on. Right now, I'm obviously working on the physical skill of kicking out (a failed attempt on Sunday resulted in a floater I was really proud of!). But more than that, surfing has always had that mental and emotional metaphor for me. And after being rather fearless and reckless (with regards to my own body, never with regards to others around me) and reaching some level of confidence with myself, I'm looking for a new metaphor. And I think it's going to have to be with how I interact with others.

In life and in surfing, I've always considered the feelings of others before my own. I've always recognized a need to be more assertive (in surfing and in life), but my non-conflict nature makes me walk (or paddle) away instead of confronting an issue. I'm not saying I'm going to go out there and pick fights and be an asshole. That's not me. Anybody who surfs near me can tell you that I'm always whooping for other people's waves. What I'm saying is that I would like to be better able to have a dialogue when something irks me instead of letting it simmer and twist up inside of me.

After reflecting on my inner dialogue on Saturday's incident, I actually talked to the girl on Sunday. She brought it up, actually, and apologized again for running into me. I took the opportunity to ask her if I could give her a couple suggestions that were given to me a few years ago. My insides got less twisted up and I hope the shared knowledge will improve her surfing.

And I'd REALLY like for this practice of being more assertive in dialogue to transition to my "real" life, too.

Home Break

aka Crappy Santa Monica beach break
aka Surf Spot of the Decade

Where did they all come from, these surfers? A refrain from last weekend and this weekend I heard from my buddies in the water, "F**k, if you looked at all the surfers in the water, you'd think this was a surf spot!" Granted, today was kinda fun, but the ol' grump inside of me started rearing its head when a kid started taking off on a wave that I was already riding. Gave him some stink-eye and he backed off. The kid on the soft top was an okay surfer, but there's no excuse for not knowing etiquette. I missed the ol' police presence in the water today. You know the guys. Those slightly scary guys who can surf circles around you and will put people in their place for any breach of etiquette. One's got an injury, one told me he'd be at work today, and I'm not quite sure what the other two guys were doing loitering around the parking lot.

I'm also never sure what to do when some of the newer people who I'm friendly with don't know how to control their boards. I was inside and I watched a girl I know take off on a wave drawing a line directly for me. She was looking ahead of her board and not right at her feet, but she was only looking about 3 inches ahead of the nose of her board. If I had been in her place I would have A) considered not going on the wave because there were two many people inside, B) gone on the wave knowing that I should trim more tightly on the shoulder, C) been looking WAY beyond where my board ended and where the water began, and, in the unlikely case that I would have come too close to someone inside, D) fell on the board and held on to stop it instead of falling backwards and letting go.

But I wasn't in her place, so I kinda saw what was going to happen. I decided that the safest thing for me to do in this case was to reach out and hold on to the nose of her board that was coming towards me. No, that's not right. The safest thing for me to do was to duck under the water, but that was not the safest thing for my surfboard.

I don't know. I guess I should have offered her my thoughts in that situation, but instead, the low-conflict kind of gal I am, I just said I was okay and that I had reached out and blocked her board with my hand. No worries.

No worries?

I come from a long line of worriers all the time. My bone structure and my worrying I've genetically inherited from my father.

I just don't understand why people can't see how ugly it is when they just fall off a board without making some effort to keep it under control and close to them? I don't understand why people don't see the classic beauty in a kick-out. Surfing's not just about speeding down the biggest baddest wave you can get. It's about taking control in an inherently chaotic environment.

And I guess I have to do that with people.

All that aside, I did have a great day of surf.

I "misunderestimated"

I honestly thought this swell wasn't going to get here, but I was wrong. And I'll force myself to listen to Bush's weekly radio address as penance.

As the Decider, I shot straight out into those waves today and didn't look back. Cuz I'm the Decider. I was ready to attack and smoke out those shoulders. Cuz we got weapons to find surf: liberty and freedom. Those other waves, you know, those closing-out brown-lookin' waves, they hate us. They hate us because they hate our waves of freedom and democracy.

(Oh, the waves were swell today by the way.)

Where Grace goes, no swell follows.

Almost every time I've gone down to visit Little Miss N in Del Mar, there has been no swell. Even if forecasts say there's going to be a little bump in size, my presence pretty much assures knee-to-waist.

Even so, I had fun on Sunday in San Diego County. I brought down my darling Cooperfish to treat him to some shapely waves. It amazes me how easy it is to surf nice waves when you call a crappy close-out beach break home. I took off on some decent set waves and had some time to walk back and forth. I still chicken out before I get to the nose, and I'm not sure how to get beyond that reaction.

School of Wipeout

I thought I did stupid stuff in the water... but Mark Healey does it in double-overhead and tow-in waves in this video on Surfline. I'm dedicating my next good wipeout to the master.

A break from surfing... for a rant

Mooooovies suck. The movie business sucks even more. I'm tired of listening to sucking up, desperation, middle men. I'm tired of projects being sold on charm and smarm and who's in the damn thing. I'm tired of deals done out of relationships rather than out of content. I'm tired of corporate America which is what the media business is. Three white men own every friggin' thing you see on TeeVee, mags, and the big screen. (And Clear Channel owns the radio waves.) You know this right? Rupert Murdoch, Disney (which isn't so much a man anymore than faceless monster of shareholders), and Sumner Redstone.

Here's a media ownership chart that's a few years old, but I'm sure with all the mergers of company, the spheres of influence are bigger and fewer.

http://www.mediachannel.org/ownership/chart.shtml

Don't EVER EVER let anyone tell you that the media is liberal-biased. When you have a corporate media, the only thing that media answers to is the DOLLAR (or maybe soon, the YUEN). And corporations are in the business of conserving or increasing the value of shareholders' dollar... inherently CONSERVATIVE.

I'm tired of this stupid business. I shoulda done what my daddy tole me to. Shoulda gone to med school. Cuz THAT business isn't dogged with corporate control at all. (No pharmaceutical pressure to approve drugs and push them through doctors, nope nope nope.)

Ack. I need to go live in a tree somewhere.

Whitewash waves - who knew?!

When I started doing this surfing thing, I didn't start out in the white water. I started out paddling, turtling, and paddling back and forth along the shore the distance of 6 lifeguard huts. I'm a good Asian and I always did my scales and etudes before I started practicing the concerto. When I started "surfing" I started on the outside waves. I got pounded. I missed waves. I learned by wiping out. I never ever surfed the whitewash. It didn't even occur to me.

But today, I sat on the beach for ten minutes watching Sensei J and Sir Richard bobbing on the horizon. Each of them got an in-n-out with some pretty kick-outs, but mostly, they were just bobbing beyond the head-high close-out sets. I'd just had a GREAT day yesterday at County Line. Head high and peaky, and everybody was cordial and followed etiquette (unlike Sister's experience at RPB). I think I got tubed, but I don't think it counts unless I open my eyes. All in all yesterday was a great surf day.

So you can imagine my reluctance to take the beating of Santa Monica close-outs. Then Ms. Birds joined me on the beach sipping her coffee and happily said, "I'm thinking of just playing in the whitewash!" Well, hell, the sun was out and I'd just driven from the boyfriend's place forty miles away (he's geographically undesirable), so I decided to take a spin in the whitewash, too.

I had SO MUCH STUPID FUN! I think I caught a hundred waves and I felt sorry for the growing number of schmoes bobbing up and down in the line-up. Each whitewash wave came with a requisite amount of silly posturing on the board and each walk-out was a work-out. Not joking. The inside rip was so strong, we were fighting it and the chaos of unending activity on the inside. I know I'm going to feel it in the glutes tomorrow.

My favorite wave was one I decided to take on my belly. As I was speeding toward shore, I saw this backwash wave come racing up at me and I held on for dear life. I launched off it, caught air, and slammed back down to continue racing to shore. Stupid fun!

One thing I learned about the white water I never surfed before: It's really difficult to maintain balance on your board. Because the water is more chaotic and the waves have less power, any imbalance can send you digging a rail and tipping. I think whitewater can actually be a good conditioning exercise for longboarders! I took some steps back and forth trying to maintain balance and I made sure to cross-step intead of shuffle. Another close-out day (which I think this south swell will continue to give our beach breaks) might see me doing these whitewater exercises!

Crowdin' the line-up

So I took the boyfriend out in the water this weekend. I'm not doing this to make my life easier, because he'd just be waking up around the time I get out of the water anyway. Someone accused us single people of crowding the line-up when we started dating people, but I'm not overly invested in having the boyfriend catch the surfing bug. Instead, I'm doing this in the hopes of introducing him to some physical activity in the hopes of keeping him healthy and alive longer, so I don't have to worry about the difference in male and female lifespans. I know. Morbid, but sweet.

Heck, surfing's the only real physical activity I have besides doing a vigorous fine chop on garlic for the evening meal. If I didn't surf, I'd be 200 pounds with a life expectancy of 60 years.

So, the boyfriend had a great belly ride on a board through the whitewash and it was small enough this weekend that he paddled out to the line-up to practice sitting on the board. It always amazes me how awkward sitting up is for newbies. I have a theory that it's easier for women to adjust to the motion because they're used to having looser hips whereas men don't really shake their thang on a normal walking type basis. Anyway, he started getting the hang of it. Now, I'm very good at teaching people how to be safe in the water and how to safely wipe-out because I am a student of the Wipe-out School of Surfing.

I'm not, however, very expert at teaching people how to catch waves. I think this is partly because I'm a good Asian and believe you should do all the basics before you move on to the next level -- like Mr. Miyagi making Daniel-san wax on and wax off for days and days before they started sparring. Also, I learned how to surf by going out and taking every single friggin' wave that came my way. I learned by wiping out and missing waves. It started registering which waves were bad and which waves were good. I'm not very good at teaching instinct.

(I also don't believe that someone should teach a person they're dating how to surf if he or she wants to continue dating that person!)

So, he's getting a lesson with Frank this weekend. He's given me a billion great surfing tips over the years and he's a great presence to have in the water. Of all the teachers I've paddled near in the water, Frank is the one who I trust the most in terms of surfing safety, knowledge, and philosophy. Hell, I'm entrusting the care of my boyfriend to him!

Some of my best friends are Doodahs

I didn't Doodah, but some of my friends did. Vote for either "Tippi Hedren and the Birds" or "Marge Simpson" (or both!) at the Doodah site.

My brush with fame

I surfed at the pier this morning for the first time in a long time. Little Miss N is in town and she likes the spot, so we go there. Lo and behold I meet the famous Uncle Grant in the water and pointed out Santa Monica surf reporter Matt on the Pier. Matt took these shots and posted them on today's report:



Uncle Grant. Nice wave.

He had the wave of the day and came flying down the line past me as I pulled back from paddling.

Me.

I'm going to take this opportunity to wonder about my right hand. I've seen other pictures of myself and that friggin' hand just hangs there in the air, hovering around my ear. I'm not really sure what I'm doing with that hand. Sometimes I notice it when I'm actually surfing, but more often than not, I am only reminded when I see pictures.

Surf Dog Surf-a-Thon

September 17, North Beach in Del Mar

Register for the non-competitive surf-a-thon with proceeds benefitting the Helen Woodward Animal Center. My friend Little Miss N works there and I have a feeling this was her brilliant idea.

Bring your dogs for their own surf contest.

It sounds like fun and I might ask people to sign my pledge sheet -- donating per my wave count -- so if I wasn't already able to psyche myself out before, this certainly would do it! Oh, the pressure of knowing I'd have to go back to people and tell them how many waves I got in an hour!

How lazy am I?

Since I seem to have backed off being a daily surfer to a weekend warrior this year, and I haven't backed off the bacon in a similar ratio, my belly has seen the brunt of this choice. This is most apparent when I try to surf shorter boards. I had the opportunity to try out Sensei J's 6'1" Con Fish shaped by Bruce Grant today and I have to say it's a very stable board. I know this because I popped up reeeeeeal slooooooow and the board was waiting for my feet to land. If there were any shape to the waves today, I would know if I had any chance of turning the twin fin.

My biggest problem, though, was my endurance. After two waves and three paddle-outs, I was exhausted and overheated in my 3/2 fullsuit. Ever since trying them on my Costa Rica trip, I'd been idly looking for either a fish or a 10-foot board to add to the collection. I missed out on a 10-foot Boss recently, so now I'm in possession of a fish for the next week. Mostly, I'm going to be assessing how lazy I really am.

I brag about being a lazy surfer. I prefer steep drops at a beach break to paddling like mad for easy rollers at Sunset. I often make it out into the line-up without getting the top of my head wet because I won't battle set waves even in my eagerness to get out. I love the waves I've gotten where I've just leaned in and popped up without a paddle.

I am a lazy surfer. Edit that. I'm an OUT OF SHAPE lazy surfer.

So how can I possibly imagine owning a shortboard? Even if it is a fish?