I had a few of the most ridiculous, albeit, hilarious surfs that I have partaken in for quite some time last weekend. Not the one we just had, but prior. This was coming off the heels of my trip to ‘Surf City’ El Salvador, where the Adult Learning population is large and growing, mind you. Here’s what happened.
Saturday morning I got down to Newport, early. Before 7. Still, even at this hour, there was not much parking. A sign of things to come. After making my second trip around the block, I managed to catch someone in the corner of my eye backing out of their spot on 47th street. I would never break Rule Number 1, this was truly just a lucky moment. I wanted to clear that up just in case you had any thoughts.
So I snag that spot and walk up the sand to see what the waves looks like. If you’ve been following along with our daily Wave Checks on social media, you’d have noticed how bad the sand bars are at home (in Huntington Beach) right now. This was a nice change of pace – decent little inside peaks, maybe even a couple of mini tubes on offer. And only one guy out between the jetties I was looking at. Between 56th and 52nd was already holding a solid crew of 15-20 guys, and I’m guessing there were even more on the North side of the 56 jetty towards RJ’s. I suit up quickly, and run out directly next to the jetty; give that other dude some space.
My first wave was a cool little vision that I got head clipped on but I made it out. A little shampoo. Stoked. Best wave I’ve had all week since returning home from the Land of the Rights. One or two waves later, I kick a little straight punt that felt cool. No landing, but it was the best section I’d got in a week. Countdown 5 minutes, and there’s now 7, then 9, then 13 people in the water. Now, I don’t know about you, but I always try to be pretty aware of my surroundings, anywhere I’m at. I could feel the crowd slowly closing in on me, inching closer to the jetty by the second. I am kicking out the back of a wave when I watch 2 guys have a mad dash of a paddle to sit right on the jetty peak I was surfing solo not even 20 minutes ago.
I was not surprised at all. That is kind of the name of the game around here in Orange County; crowds. It comes with this territory. But wow, I would never do that to someone else. I guess perspectives and mind sets have just completely changed in recent years. What’s yours is yours and you are entitled to it, and that includes the jetty peak that I was already surfing by myself. I couldn’t help but have a chuckle. I still paddled back directly next to the jetty, I’m talking less than a few feet from the rocks, and sat just inside both of these fellows. I held the slightest smile on my face but never made eye contact.
Imagine this at a skatepark. You pull up and there are 2 people rolling around, practicing or whatever. Are you going to post up 5-10 feet from the guy who’s practicing on the flat rail, immediately having your go at the same flat rail, the second he clears way? All while not saying a fucking word? It’s the strangest behavior. What about at a driving range? You dropping your ball in the sand pit to practice wedge shots with another person in there? Bowling alley? Oh, did I mention there is another skatepark and another sand pit fucking 5 minutes walk up the street? How about the bowling alley? Open lanes everywhere, but that guy is throwing strikes on that lane. I want to share with him.
I get it; it’s surfing and the ocean and we’re dealing with a limited resource. Shit, I just spoke about how bad the sandbars were in Huntington – why do you think I’m in Newport in the first place? That being said, I would never be the first or even the second guy to paddle over and sit on a dude who was just enjoying a peak to his lonesome. Especially at a beach break where there are plenty of other options. I can understand how a reef or a pointbreak might be a different situation.
Anyways, I got a couple more waves and paddled a few circles around those guys before calling it quits. That’s my story from Saturday.
On Sunday I brought the family down with me so I opted for River Jetties. I knew I’d have better luck with parking, there is the little river mouth and some tide pools the groms can play in, and I just thought it would be an overall better option. I didn’t get a chance to look at the waves – hence me forgetting to post the Wave Check – I just lugged all the gear down; boards, towels, chair, wetsuits, etc. We got there much later than I had been all week. It’s nearly kickoff for the Sunday football games, so I get my wife set up to watch her Packers before I throw on the wetsuit. The waves looked kind of fun. Again it’s still small, like waist high at best, but there are a few peaks. It’s fucking packed. As I’m getting my suit on, I’m watching the lineup and the large amount of fuckery going on out there. I knew I was in for some kind of a session…
I tell the wife and kids that I’m just catching a couple and I’ll be right back to push my grom into a few. I wasn’t lying, that was my plan. When I did get out there, however, that blueprint flew right out the window. First and foremost, the sheer volume of people in the water makes surfing more difficult than it should be. You’re (I am) constantly looking out for other surfers, wondering or asking if they are going to go on this wave and which way? You’re (I am) consistently watching out for them when paddling back out so as to not get run over. Or while paddling into a wave, up and riding, you name it. It’s half dodgeball and half surfing, half the time.
So I get a few waves anyway, and I notice that this crowd is the prototypical weekend warrior crew. Some of them can surf. Most of them can not. They talk. A lot. They actually don’t shut the hell up. Talking about this board and what model it is, which fins work better, where they surfed and did you get any waves during Marie? How was that last one you got? Did you see that turn I just did? Describing the floater and the section and every damn thing on their mind enters the entire lineup’s consciousness. It’s just like a local bar, except at the bar you usually don’t have to dodge anyone and check with them before you sit down.
There are two friends right in my vicinity. One is in trunks, on a yellowed, (estimated) 7’0 beaker nosed fish type of board. The other is in one of those Florence hooded rash guards and riding some kind of carbon high performance shortboard. Both of them could get up and ride waves. Neither of them were good surfers. The pair had caught my attention early on in the session; Aggressively paddling into each and every wave, any wave they could catch. Straight back outside and paddle battling for the next one. It was not just myself, everyone out there noticed these guys. A short interval into my session, the guy on the flat looking mid length fish is on his way back out from a ride when a small little set starts approaching. He races me into the spot. Scratching, scraping, I’m talking like a full on aggro contest style paddle battle. I am deeper than him, but he’s going. No questions asked. I already know it. I still turn and have a look. It should be my wave. Like I said, I’m deeper on the wave and in the spot, and he’s literally on his way back out from a ride. Now in position, there are no looks, no words, he goes. I pull back and just fucking laugh. This one bald fellow out there – who was ripping by the way – looks at me and goes, “what a fucking kook”. I just smile, slight shake of the head, and shrug my shoulders.
Fast forward another 30 minutes or so, and the lineup is still jiving with life. Older guys chatting it up like a coffee break at work. A full crew of groms just down the way learning to ride shortboards, looking like it’s the first session without their parents. It’s a proper summer weekend session – a mess. I’m kind of making my way around a couple of peaks. I truly didn’t even notice until it was too late, that I was just about to burn the same dude who took off on my wave – he was about 10 yards behind me. I only had half a glance as I was paddling into it. Maybe he did the same thing as before – just caught a wave, making (racing) his way back out and spun around. I’m not sure what happened. All I know is this time, he was deeper than I. But probably too deep. I go. He goes. He’s definitely too far behind me, so I stick with the wave, pumping down the line far out in front of him anyway. Pretty sure he got caught in the foam or whatever, maybe straightened out, I’m not sure. He was never going to catch me. I paddle straight back out and I already know, I just fucking know there’s going to be some kind of situation; words, temper, whatever.
About a minute goes by and I hear some murmuring behind me. Something, something, “yeah, that guy and that guy need their asses kicked”.
I turn around. It’s his buddy, not even the guy who I torched, the carbon board Florence ripper who’s talking. “Oh yeah?,” I ask, “are you gonna be the one to do it?”
“YEAH, YOU KNOW WHY? MY PTSD FROM AFGHANISTAN IS ABOUT TO KICK IN WHERE I KILLED OVER 150 PEOPLE.”
“Wow,” I say. This was new. I had to have a smile on my face. I was almost laughing.
“Wow.” I repeat, giving one of those tight lipped approval nods. I’m sitting on my board looking in at the two, who are laying down on their boards really close to each other.
“War Hero”
“You ever killed anyone before? Yeah. I didn’t think so. Paddle away.”
Now I’m pissed off – telling me to paddle away. Fuck that. And I know he’s lying out of his fucking ass. “I’m not going fucking anywhere. Come over here and do what you wanna do.”
The guy that I actually burned was saying something by this point about me snaking him. He tried to tell me I burned him twice, which was untrue. The Florence guy says I was mouthing off, or that I was the one talking shit, also untrue. I literally had not said a word. Now causing a bit of a scene in the lineup. It’s a yelling match between those two, I’m not saying much. Guys are pulling their earplugs out in disbelief at what they just heard.
The guy in the trunks on the mid length said he’d kick my ass on the beach, and I offered to go in. I then told them they were both fucking kooks, pointing out all the money spent on the Florence gear and carbon board, all so he could come out here and fucking rip (he was not ripping). I explained that I was not the only one in the lineup aware of their dumbass antics – have a fucking look around. That same guy that I mentioned was ripping earlier, the bald fellow and the one who called this guy a kook for burning me, he told me he got snaked by this guy with the Carbon board. The rich ripper. Everyone could see it.
At this point the mid-length guy is still yammering. He says he’s going to burn me again, and we basically agree to keep snaking each other. I tell him I am all good at playing that game; let’s burn each other all day. The certified liar and former War Vet is doing some kind of deep breathing, “Okay. I’m calming myself down. Hey, enough. I’ll handle this.” Finally, they both shut the hell up, and I turn my back to them, looking back out at the ocean.
What a shocker. PTSD. “150 Kills.” Afghanistan. Fucking liar. We are surfing hardly 2 foot, onshore, Newport beach closeouts. This isn’t fucking Pipe. They both fucking suck. Absolute kooks. By happenstance, another surfer posting nearby to eavesdrop was wearing one of those Florence rashaguards. “Hey dude, nice Florence gear! I like the hoodie,” says the War Hero. Oh boy. I just sit and let these antics go. Sooner than later, I lost both of them in the lineup. Apparently everyone took notice of this ordeal. As I’m paddling back out from another wave, I get a bit of a hand wave and a guy telling me, “Hey, I’ve got your back.” Not that I was worried in the slightest, but it was cool to hear that someone else had taken note of what was going on. Also as a side note, this guy could actually rip. Charlie is his name, and he surfs really well.
After I let a few minutes pass by, just sitting and recollecting on the situation, I start to talk with that guy and a few others floating & sitting in the area. I told him how I wasn’t worried one bit, but Thank You. And I appreciate it. They all saw what those 2 were up to. I guess a lot of people had been getting snaked by them too. “There is no way those guys are from here. LA is my guess. Probably South Bay?” I thought that was a great call. Even though it was small and onshore, the guy is surfing one of the punchiest waves you can find around here with a 7 foot beak-nosed fish. Very strange. There are much better waves for that style of surfing in a very close vicinity.
I ran into the bald fellow again on the way out of the water and asked if he had seen any of that mess. “Wow,” he seemed pretty surprised. That’s what I said! He also told me that the dude in the Florence gear paddled over and apologized to him; said sorry for burning him. I guess cooler heads prevailed for the War Vet. I was shocked to hear that. I wonder why I didn’t get an apology. Maybe he learned something in that interaction. The only thing I learned was that I hate surfing in and around Orange County, for the most part (laughs). I can’t wait to get back to El Salvador, or anywhere out of the country, for that matter.
Long story for a shitty surf. End of summer. El Nino hype. Warm water. OC, Southern California. What can you do?
You’re the man Charlie.
Cheers,
hwilsin
Drew Stanfield