Surfing Ruined My Life

Jalama when its not pathetic

I thought I would take a brief break from the Pacific Northwest saga and write about the ten hour retard mission I went on today in search of ride-able surf.  In case you were teetering on the edge of your seat for the very exciting conclusion don’t fall off, you will just have to wait.  Part four may just be the best of the whole darn thing.  That whole trip was sort of the cause of today’s events.

Before leaving for Portland there had been in a serious drought of surf  here in the 805.  The summer was atrocious as it was and then the last few weeks of August just gave up on us all together.  At the time I was working like crazy at Westmont helping our very short staffed kitchen keep running.  Every time I leave town one can bet his life on the fact that there will be waves.  Holding true to this theorem before leaving all the forecasts were calling for a solid little south swell to hit California.

A lot of fucking good that did me in Portland.  At least my friends were going to score.  Its one thing to miss a week of surf if there has been swell, but its quite another when you cant even remember the last time you paddled.  I took it like a good sport, a very rare feat for me.  I figured when I got back it would be September all the weather folk are predicting a return of El Nino.  No worries there will be plenty of surf.

Well I watched the swell materialize from my computer in Portland, peak and die.  Then I looked at a forecast as far as the 14 day out look and it showed no better then 1-2ft.  At that point I may have screamed a few profanities while smacking the wall with the sole of my shoe.  Things were looking grim.  I need to surf.  It’s  not a hobby for me but a necessity of life similar to that of breathing air.  For me there are only two modes of action, surf mode and non-surf mode.

Surf mode is chill.  I wake up every morning and find some waves to shred before work and my days are spent for the most part mellow and stoked.  I mean sure there are some frustrating sessions and still a bit of drinking and partying but overall I feel really good and that I have a reason for living.  Then there is non-surf mode.  This kicks in after I have not surfed for a period of more then 5 days.

Non-surf mode for me is the complete absence of enjoyment out of life.  I become a zombie just going through the motions of my everyday not caring.  I feel out of shape and very lackadaisical.  My mood becomes somber.  I drink more and the partying gets out of hand.  By 8-10 days I barely remember what surfing is all about.  I sleep till the absolute last moment I can before work then come home and pass out after work.  I become a total ball of dog shit.

That was exactly where I found myself when I woke up Monday morning, dog shit.  A solution needed to be formulated to this downward spiral I was falling into.  I checked all the forecasts for all of California.  It looked as though Jalama might be the call with favorable looking wind conditions and some NW wind swell.  Monday night I called a few of my surfing cohorts to see who would be the lucky passenger on my excursion up north.

First one to respond gets the seat in my car since whenever I got up north I strictly follow the rule of two.  My boy Kevin Angers jumped at the chance with in minutes.  Then towards evening he unexpectantly dropped out leaving me in a scramble to find a number two.  North county is shark country and if you bring a buddy at least you cut your chances of being munched on in half or have someone around to witness your death.   I always tell my friends if I get eaten feel free to loot my life, just make an anonymous call to my parents to let them know I have perished.

“Hi Mr and Mrs Lisanti you don’t know me but your son Chris has been eaten by a great white.  Too bad, so sad.  But remember he is not really gone if we find a way to remember him.  I am doing that by taking all his stuff, keeping what I like then selling the rest on craigslist.  Bye now.””

I hit up this dude Pat who used to go to college with both Nick the Kook and Alex No Friends back in Melbourne Florida. Turns out he recently moved to Port Hueneme in Oxnard County.  He hit me up a few weeks ago for the skinny on the surf scene and as usual I was happy to oblige.  Anyone who wants to come move up here and suffer through terrible surfing 90% of the time is more then welcome to my advice, which is always “Have you considered moving some place else”.  Never being up that far north he was stoked to go.

We convened at the Lisanti Palace  at 6am and cruised northward with high spirits and lots of stoke. I love the drive up there it is very peaceful going through Gaviota and then onto route 1 through the ranch.   Then you turn off onto the Jalama road which is this twisting snake of fun banked turns with cliffs and rolling hills.  It is very scenic.  When we got in sight of the ocean it was offshore and from up on the bluff looked around chest to head high.  Stoked we drove into the camp ground and got ready for the walk to cracks.

It was not until we started walking that we realized that a vantage up high usually will tell you a lie.  All we kept seeing was knee to waist high G.I. Joe waves with a crowd of twelve on one peak with poor shape.  We sat down on a piece of drift wood to contemplate our current situation.  I had to surf.  Besides the long over due need for a score it was 9/11 and I have always surfed on 9/11 including the day it all went down.  It has been a standard for me.  If the entire world is falling apart and all is going to end I want to be out in the water when it all goes down.

I decided the best course of action courtesy of more miss information from Surfline.com was to run up to Surf Beach.  I think they should send a check for $2 to anyone who writes them that they got screwed by a poorly produced forecast.  Surf beach is more exposed to open ocean swell, but also to wind as well.  I was desperate and Pat was game so we cruised.

When we arrived at Surf Beach it looked really fun actually, by Surf Beach standards of course.  There was no one out for scale but having spent a number of surfs out there now I assumed it was over head.  Why was there no one out you ask?  Surf Beach is fucking closed till September 30th as a result of too many violations of the beach rules set by the Air Force since the spot is technically on their property.  As it turns out 50 infractions is the magic number to close the place down.

At this point I had just about lost it and was ready to have a freak out Lisanti style.  Then I remembered that Pat is new to Lisanti Land and may not be able to handle such a scene.  I took a few deep breaths while pacing in circles around the parking lot.  I was up the creek with out a paddle.  I opened the trunk of my car and pulled out my leash as I scanned the parking lot for a spot high and strong enough to hang myself from.  The light at the far end of the train station looked more then adequate.

As I was constructing a noose it hit me, what about further north?  There was Pismo but a surf there was about as bad if not worse then not surfing at all.  Then I thought back to the protests against the county charging for parking at select beach parks and there was a place just outside of Guadalupe that was on that list.  I though heck if there was a beach there why wouldn’t there be waves.  Killing myself would have to wait about 30 minutes till we got there.  Guadalupe is know for its giant dunes so I figured at the very worst I could try and bury myself alive.

We traversed this sketchy little road through the dunes before coming out to the ocean where to our pleasant surprise there were waves.  It was not perfect.  There was a slight texture on it and it looked a bit shifty and hard to read.  There were two guys leaving as we were pulling up.  After all that effort you can bet your ass we were suited up and were in the water in no time flat. I just got a new Excel 4/3 for a steal off the internet and was warm as hell.  Pat on the other hand had this very old O’Neill that looked like Swiss cheese.

We got out there and right off that bat I had a nice right.  I felt very rusty and out of shape the entire session.  For three hours we traded waves in the very tricky conditions stoked.  It was far from good by any means but when you have been wave starved as long as I have or come from Florida like Pat it was good enough.   There were some really fun sections.  We had an entire line up to ourselves, a pod of dolphins decided to join us for a bit.  The seals even seemed to be chilling. It was not the score I had intended, but I definitely made lemonade out of lemons.

Fuck surfing I’m over it.  I think this is the new course my life is going take.  I am going Gangnam Style, whooot!: