PRESS PLAY.
You know that feeling.
It happens right after you pry yourself away from a notoriously crowded lineup where the surf was not only perfect, but you also managed to gorge yourself on said perfect waves…like the surf glutton that you secretly are.
Don’t worry: I won’t tell.
~So~
There’s only one thing left to do: A happy dance…to this song.
Soak it up while you can.
Summer’s a-comin’…
Photo: Seabreeze.com.au
January 25, 2015–San Clemente, Calif….where were you?
So worth it.
Let’s get one thing straight: I am not a morning person.
I never have been and never will be. You know that classical music song by Rossini? Of course ya do! Well, as beautiful as the song is, it will never be taken seriously by myself.
<Insert savvy pun about men my age here>
I CONFESS: I would just as soon as throw a brick through a window hoping to nail the rising sun that mocks my eyes than to be pried out of the comfort of my warm cozy bed.
The only sound that miraculously pulls me from my slumber: THIS.
Well hello there, feet.
Bleary eyed and cantankerous, my wetsuit-ed body pulls itself down the cold street by my bare feet, my mind counting my blessings in bittersweet fashion.
Is there some bump in the water? Don’t know until I get there, but I sure hope so!
Any tiny piece of gravel under my feet turns me into a moping baby in whine mode, the sand’s chilly temperature imitates grainy snow piling between my toes. The crisp air coupled with the first touch of the semi-cool Pacific finally wake my senses and, yes, I can do this.
With the lineup count at two, I slide into whatever choice glassy peak I want, sans hoots, aggro-ness and other alpha ape-like behaviors.
Alarms, cold neoprene, annoying gravel and a semi-lucid morning walk –worth every last frigid second.
As for the rest of the day, well…
Ok, I’m awake now.
Storm patterns have turned my weekends into glorious photo bliss coupled with daily surfaris up the coast. A few weeks ago, Hurricane Norbert graced our coastline with waves aplenty and warm water temps that I will surely be dreaming about six months from now. The category 3 hurricane veered up the baja coast and onto the inland southwestern region of the U.S. and delivered a much-needed dose of rain …now if only he swung a little more west, California’s serious drought problem might have been temporarily staved.
Save that water people!!
Until then, my journey plopped me in front of Newport’s finest carnage-inducing break: Wedge. Whether you surf, sponge or skin it at Orange County’s premier balls-to-the-wall sandbar slab, Wedge will do more than ‘kick your ass.’ It will turn you inside out, grind you in sand and spit whats left of you out onto the shoreline.
It might be wise to seek some sage advice from a seasoned pro or local before setting a toe in the water. I wonder who would be considered Wedge’s ‘Turtle’….brah….or would that be ‘bro’…?
Either way at Wedge,“…you’re gonna get drilled.”
It’s great to see photos of perfectly shaped waves that make you salivate and re-think jobs, relationships and other potential long-term life investments. This is not the case…just big, not-so-gnarly walls of water mowing over some brave weekend warriors at Trestles last weekend. I just happen to have my camera, albeit not the right lens, however, I caught some closeout fun at Upper Trestles on this last swell. Jobs, relationships and long-term life investments saved.
Enjoy the sorta-carnage. For real carnage, get your butt to The Wedge on the next south swell.
It’s common knowledge that the mass majority of surfers in the lineup are guys. Okay ladies, let’s face it: the likelihood of an all-girls surf trip to Mexico is pretty slim. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve traveled to Mexico by myself, survived and loved it, however, not many of my surfer girlfriends are as eager to hop the border and rough it to find perfect un-crowded waves. Call me ‘crazy’ for going to Mexico by myself on my first excursion, call me ‘insane’ for the second trip with a bunch of boys. I don’t care. My end results were fun times with no regrets.
Testosterone is everywhere on a guys trip and every once in a while, they might think you’re cool enough to include in their boys club, but I don’t blame you if you re-consider and decide to wait until Mexico’s drug war has ended and kidnappings are at an all-time low.
But if you’re as impatient as I was and pale at the thought of empty points breaking without you, here are few tips about traveling with the boys:
1.) Let them be Boys
You are on this trip to surf and surf some more. They are on this trip to do the same along with all the beer guzzling contests, dirty jokes, burps and farts intact. Deal with it. Bodily functions are a-plenty, so if you have a weak stomach, perhaps you shouldn’t have gone on this trip. Bring a nose plug.
2.) Bring a good book or a pair of headphones.
Get ready for hair metal mixes, mass drunken sing-a-longs to a garden variety of rap songs, dirty jokes you didn’t know existed and fart smells that will fry your nose hair. Think I’m kidding? Think again, chica. But don’t be bitter, this is a boy’s trip and you’re, well, the minority. It doesn’t hurt to occasionally force-feed a little Cyndie Lauper down their throats, either. You would be surprised by the music middle ground you can reach with a group of guys. Who knows? There might be a closet Taylor Swift fan among the group.
But there are times when those dirty jokes or fart noises can get out of hand. Tired of hearing Metallica’s ‘Creeping Death’ for the 10 millionth time? Remember to come prepared with your head gear equipped with your favorite tunes.
3.) Know Your Limits and Plan Back-Up Activities
If you don’t want to stay up for that third keg of beer or you’d rather not surf the spot swarming with seals, let your guy friends be their gnarly testosterone selves. Go for a hike, surf a different spot or take some ‘you’ time. After all, traveling with all boys might make you forget that you are, in fact, a girl. Celebrate all that is feminine while they hunt for bone-crushing barrels that break in inch-deep water. But if you can hang, go for it! You will only command more respect among the Y-chromosomed. Just try not to emasculate them in the process. But, know your own limits so they don’t have to cut the trip short due to your cute cocky self scoring a broken limb or head injury instead of a sick drainer.
4.) Stroke Their, um, Ego
Despite the over-stated machismo image stereotyped for surfer boys, there is a secret sensitive Sally whose feelings and ego can get hurt. Guys aren’t made of stone, so always stay positive and patient. Make them feel good about their attempt at breakfast or their supposed ‘sense of direction.’ Most of all, compliment their waves. Whether they’re ripping or taking dives over the falls, find something good about that ride. A little ‘yeeww’ goes a long way.
5.) Why Can’t We Be Friends?
If you intend to hook up with one of the guys, stay home. Putting that dynamic into the mix can add an awkward vibe to the trip and tends to create jealousy or resentment among fellow compadres. Be cool and try not to cloud a male bonding experience with your cute, um, assets. Keep your pants on. If sparks fly, try to wait until you’re in familiar territory. Besides, I bet he will respect you that much more if you play a little hard-to-get and show him that he’s not the center of your universe…for now.
6.) Laugh
Perhaps the most important point of all: laughter is key. Yeah, boys can be gross, smelly and downright annoying, but really, just laugh. Don’t deny it, your inner tomboy busted with laughter when your buddy chugged four Tecates then proudly belched his A-B-C’s. Unless you’re sitting in the U.S./Mexico border traffic, the ipod’s gone stale and your buddy continues to drink until he unwittingly trades his passport for more tequila which consequently shoves you’re crew into the secondary line, let it fly. Besides, I’m guessing if you’ve made it to the end of this article, you probably aren’t 100 percent girly-girl, anyway. Ain’t no smirking and mouthing ‘what an idiot’ to a home girl who’s not there! Laugh it off.
There’s something about surfing a new spot that brings out my inner child. It is one of few times I happily wake up at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning and make a mad dash 40 miles south of home.
Even though the term is “cabin fever,” I am re-naming it to “office fever” that hurtles me over the edge into temporary madness defined by computers, social media and fake grass. By the end of the week, my over-driven knuckles and fuzzy brain can only process the excitement of my crazed Saturday morning dashes.
I CONFESS…In my “adult” life experience so far, I’ve learned to appreciate the small happenings, the quick trips, the new places and faces even more than I did in in my college days. After my trip to one of San Diego‘s finer breaks, I concluded: I will always find time for mad dashes and random escapes sans cords, signals or text alerts.
Even through these mini-adventures, fun is still had and lessons are still learned.
My lesson: Remember to stretch your legs and get out of your bubble. You never know what kind of moments are in store for you.
A great way to start a new year.
It’s times like these where communication is key…not to mention super fun!
On my recent trip to Nicaragua, I found myself socializing with nothing but spanish-speaking locals. I was so stoked because mi español became muy mejor and by the end of my week-long trip, I was helping my friends translate. There’s nothing like submerging yourself!
Cinco cocos verde.
Daydreams of those perfect warm water barrels should include a little español because once you get down there, not only does everyone talk nothing but Spanish, but many people also might not understand much (if any!) English. Therefore: es muy importante para practicar su español!
I CONFESS: My practice did not begin until I was reading the safety guide while my flight rolled down the runway. The first thing I picked up really quick: this ain’t Mexico…people talk very fast! Time to buck up.
So while you continue to get shacked in your dreams, insert a little Spanish speak so reality won’t hit you like a ton of bricks being laid out for that awesome language barrier.
“Me gusta tubos en Nicaragua!”
Ok, snap out of the barrel/bikini/hot salsa dancing scene for a second and float back down to reality: no matter which Spanish-speaking country you decide to trip-it to, bring a Spanish-English dictionary. I don’t care how many apps you download onto your smartphone, you need a book. Other than draining your battery, apps tend to require a wifi signal and although most places might have a signal, it won’t be there all the time and readily available.
Iguana on a stick! Julio negotiates dinner options: green or black iguana?
So for you traveling surfers, assuming you made it beyond the aeropuerto and have reached your calle to an undisclosed locale, consider these words before paddling out to any pico:
Surfing (verb): ….Surfeo or Surf
Beach: ……………..La Playa
Surfboard: ………….La Tabla
Pico
Puesta del sol
“Arena”
The sweetest gato ever!
Time flies all too fast sometimes and before you know it, your calendar reads less than a month away from that anticipated surf trip. As you double check your passport’s expiration and take inventory of that healthy bikini/boardie supply, you realize the most obvious object is lacking: a proper board.
A few months ago, a new board did cross your mind and you thought about calling your trusty shaper, but …popped a tire on the freeway, girlfriend broke up with you, waves were (somehow) good…life. Now you’re down to the wire: T-minus 15 days and not only do you need a perfect board, but you need it SOON.
Terry picks out a template and I approve.
Suddenly, your shaper’s number gets stored in your favorites, you swing by his or her shop more often and take in some stories from the glory days, you shower them with baked goods or burritos, then comes the question:
“So I’ve got this surf trip coming up…”
“Oh yeah? You need a board.”
“I leave in two weeks.”
“I can do it.”
Tension eased. Hello, eight hours of sleep!
Although most normal people give their shaper a fair warning before said ‘trip,’ some people tend to be procrastinators. *cough*me*coughcough*
And if you’re one of those special people, here are some ways to help your shaper not hate you:
1.) Feed your shaper!
If you’re one of the lucky ones, like myself, and you get to watch the whole board shaping process go down, it is always a good idea to bring your shaper some grub. A happy shaper is a full shaper. Aside from frankincense and myrrh…a sacrificial goat or virgin… coffee and pastries work just fine, too.
2.) Rock out to your shaper’s music.
I don’t care if you don’t like Quiet Riot or think Green Day is a sell-out band from your pre-teen days, quit your whining and let your shaper get into their groove. When you’re in my car, you get my tunes…same concept for the shaping bay. So throw up those hands, horns or lighters.
3.) Update your shaper on your life history…or sit there and look pretty.
Is your shaper a talker or does he or she need some peace and quiet? Whatever it may be, try to accommodate. If they want to know all about how your date stood you up or where your dog picked up fleas or how state park’s been walling up lately, let it flow. But if he or she is the quiet type, respect that too. Some shapers don’t like yappers.
4.) Laugh at your shaper’s jokes…even if you’ve heard them already.
If you know Terry Senate, you know you’re in for it. He has a joke for every hour of the day and backs it up with a crazy story or two…then ends it by making fun of you, somehow…and somehow, you just continue to laugh. I think that is the man’s goal: to make you laugh from the second your enter his shop to the second you leave.
5.) Hug your shaper.
They put up with your crazy life schedule, they accommodate every nit-picky eighth of an inch, they breathe in some nasty shit, they make you smile and, above all, they help you get the greatest rides of your life.
The least you can do is hug them.
Man love at it’s finest: “I love you, man!”
When it comes to wave quality, Lower Trestles has been the SoCal benchmark for decades.
Photo: Jackie Connor
It’s that time of year, again!
11-Time World Champion, Kelly Slater.
Photo: Jackie Connor
Kelly Slater throws some spray at the 2012 Hurley Pro at Lower Trestles.
Photo: Jackie Connor
2012 Hurley Pro runner-up Joel Parkinson may not have won the final heat, however he went on to become the 2012 World Champion. Here, he shows why he’s World Champ.
Photo by: Jackie Connor
