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The Final Jaunt: Big Sur Part IV

Posted in Cooking, Dating, Life, Surfing, tagged Big Sur, Carmel, Charlie Chaplin Wall Art. Chris Lisanti is a surf addict and a terrible person. Whooot, Mill Creek, Surfing on August 4, 2014| 4 Comments »

Carmel Beach

***Initially this trip took place in February, my lazy and busy ass never got around to finishing the saga. I have a moment right now and am about to do such. I am going to attempt to write it as things were experienced and feelings that were felt then, despite my attitudes on certain issues are at press time. If you are a surflog reader keep that in mind if you feel my mood inconsistent with such. If you have just stumbled upon this piece and want to be brought up to speed before continuing on or need to refresh your memory on where we left off check out Part 1: Big Sur, A Land of Endless Possibility , Part 2: Blind Exploration , Part 3: Testing the Waters. Its old and dated, but worth the read so enjoy.***

Ahh the beauty of the wilderness.

My final day up in Big Sur country I was besides myself on what to do and how to make the most of it. It’s true that few people, with the exception of my father can pack as much activities in a trip as I can or a day for that matter. Don’t get me wrong, few can be as lazy as me either. I can spend three hours sitting on the couch staring into space. It just depends on the particular day, week or year. At the moment I have been in high out put mode leaving little time for nothing days.

In all truth I wanted to run around looking for more surf. Isn’t that always the agenda when surfing is involved? One of the surfing’s rule book main rules is “never bring your girl friend on a surf trip if you really want to score”. I have never really toted around a non-surfing girl friend before and had no experience with such. Normally if she doesn’t surf then we always travel separately. It sounds a bit selfish, I know, but as I wrote in the very first installment of this Big Sur saga I have a surfing problem. Surfing always comes first, always. No point in me ruining her trip or her ruining mine.

Thus far this trip had been the same thing. What I had initially wanted to be a semi-romantic weekend and a way for us to try and do some relationship damage control after the incident on my birthday (see the February2014, the 2-2 and 2-3 entries) began with me dragging Heather all over the coast trying to find some kill-able surf. In her defense she was a good sport about the whole thing. Feeling a bit guilty I decided that we could drive into Carmel on our last day. She mentioned multiple times (woman have a way of doing this) that she would like to go there. Besides I figured that there was beach there too and where there is a beach there are probably some surf-able waves.

Making the most of the meager offerings at Carmel Beach

I also had not realized that the drive up to Carmel was only about thirty minutes or so making it very do-able. After two days of being in the woods I was about ready for some civilization anyway. We got there uneventfully, though scenically whimsical. Being the asshole I am I managed to get us right to the beach. Coastal access signs might as well be like a dog whistle for a surfer. We pulled up to this really grand beach. It was as gorgeous as a beach could be. The sand was bleached white, the ocean was a coral blue, to the north was nothing but the green of a golf course and all around were these lavish estates. It looked like a scene out of “Life styles of the Rich and Famous”.

People say Santa Barbara is Beautiful and it certainly is, but I think Carmel has us beat. Really, what I think it is, is the fact that it rains there so everything is green all your round, while here in SB we go through long periods of brown. This particular beach also had a wave that was not bad. The wind was sort of side shore/off shore and surf was about cheat high plus with A-Frames. There were a handful of people scattered up and down the beach. I was on it.

One of the many section floaters I did to get me to more close out.

As I was stretching on the beach some “local” tried to give me some shit about going back to Santa Barbara (J7 is a Santa Barbara brand). He yelled some hardly audible bull shit at me. I looked at him, waved and smiled and then paddle out about a 100 yards down the beach from him and his buddies. Like I said there were peaks up and down the beach all rather similar looking. I saw no point in causing a raucous. I got a few, but it was a little more walled then I would have liked it to be and all the sets were closed out with few corners. I did a quickie as to not piss off Heather too much. I was also interested in seeing a bit of the town.

The main drag, Carmel.

I was really impressed by the town of Carmel. Cleanliness wise it was so much nicer then Santa Barbara. I saw very few homeless. The place just felt a bit more classy to me all around. I think it is because Santa Barbara is really broken into three shopping sections, Downtown, Montecito and Upper State, while in Carmel they just have a few block radius. I am not being a hater on SB, it is my home after all, I just think if we could clean up some of the bums and panhandling on State Street it might class the town up a bit.

Carmel

We meandered about the town for a bit taking in all the sights there were to see. It was mostly just strolling along window shopping considering the fact that we could not afford to eat or buy anything due to the upscale nature of the town. It was nice to take in some of the architecture and enjoy all the little parks through out the town. I would call it time well spent.

Large fig tree in Carmel.

Cool Charlie Chaplin painting we came across on our walk about.

It was getting late. I wanted to check out the Mission, but we also had a long drive back to Santa Barbara ahead of us. It would have to wait for another trip. I am always fine with leaving something more to do. The plan was to stop at the local grocer in town and pick up supplies to do a little beach front BBQ on this chill little spot I found along the PCH the previous night. It seemed a great spot for a sunset BBQ. I noticed there was also the possibility of some surf potential too. Always the ulterior surfing motive.

The problem with doing a BBQ when you have nothing is the fact that you need to get everything or get innovative. The food was the easy part. I bought a pair of cheap tongs and found some plastic silverware. I still need a cutting device. I bought a pack of razor blade edges for a buck. It would do. I got some veggies, two nice steaks, some mesquite and strawberries for dessert. It was on.
We got to my little spot and sure enough not only was it the pristine picnic spot I had thought, but it was all I had hoped in a surf spot and more. I had stumbled upon the wave completely by accident the previous day when Heather had to use the restroom. I had found a Big Sur Emma Wood. From the actual picnic area the surf spot is invisible. If you follow a little dirt path, cross a small creek, you will come around a head land into a small cove about 400 yards wide. The cove had cliffs on both sides and some boulders on the outside to the south. The entire cove was protected from the wind.

I am sure in a rainier season this creek runs a bit faster. On this day it was easy crossing.

At the southern corner of the bay there was a left coming in that looked more then kill-able. It would feather off the outside boulders before standing up on the inside sand bar creating an end section that is a high performance surfer’s dream. Airs, hits, reverses, anything was possible and the best part was the landing was in sand. There was even a right that the left would reform into on the other side of the peak. I stuck mainly to the left. I had a fucking ball. It was not bigger then head high, but super fun. I bet with the right wind it would barrel.
I had an hour of light left and the cove was situated perfectly for evening light too. Heather pulled out the telephoto and ran off a few shots while I went to town. Sure it was a little on the crazy side to go surf some off the beaten path spot in the middle of shark land during peak feeding hour, but how could I not go slay some peaks. It ended up being the best surf of my trip so I am glad I did.
After the surf I lit up the grill and cooked a fine meal of roasted vegetables and steak. We even indulged in a nice bottle of syrah though I was only able to take one glass off of it since I had to drive us home. It was a great ending to an interesting and fun trip. While most couples were spending Valentines Day at some restaurant that was over crowded and staff over worked spinning their wheels for an oblivious clientele who were duped in going out as a result of a made up holiday, my chick and I spent it eating in the sunset and drinking under the stars. I even bought her a rose while she was waiting in line at the butcher counter and surprised her with it at the table. Sometimes even a scoundrel like myself can be romantic.
On a final note I would like to say that I was very taken with Big Sur and will certainly be looking to spend some more time there in the near future. The surf potential is really endless. All your ability to score is dependent on is your commitment, dedication, time and level of crazy. I for one plan on making many more surf excursions to this special piece of the California Coast.

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So It’s Been A While

Posted in Anger, Cooking, Life, News From Lisanti Land, Odd Jobs, Surfing, tagged Cooking, Italian food, Italian restaurant. Wild Cat Lounge, Jalama, Jalama Beach, John Mauriello has an asshole face., North Santa Barbara, penis, Santa Barbara, Surfing, Why the fuck am I so busy! Bla Bla Bla, Wild Cat on July 21, 2014| 5 Comments »

No blogs, just surf

June came and went with not a piece of writing here on SurfingRuinedMyLife.net. For that I must say I am sorry. I thought I would take a moment to explain myself a little bit. First off things have been a bit on the crazy side. Alright, when isn’t my life on the crazy or hectic side? Normally by July I have hit my stride of chilling on Uncle Sam’s nickel. That was exactly where I saw myself by now. Unfortunately my superiors at Westmont had other plans for my summer. While I would usually find myself living on the dole of unemployment with a little hustle and flow on the side I found myself stuck in the kitchen four days a week.

The Westmont Grind

Back in April I had been asked if I wanted to work May term hours. May term is a one month micro semester Westmont runs for it’s students. Like any institution of higher learning this means they compress classes into a short time period but still charge students the same amount of money per credit for the normal semester. The motherfucking business of education. “Hey come spend all your money and go into debt, then graduate with a useless degree and have to go work for minimum wage for some idiot like me”. The only difference is I too am a well educated idiot working way outside of my degree or education for way less money then I should. I think I just summed up every American from 22-35 at the moment. Ain’t this country grand. America land of the free only if your rich while the rest of us have become the in debt slave laborer. Sorry for the rant but it has been a while.

I did the math and realized if I worked all of May and saved the bulk of that money I could kick it on unemployment for the remainder of the summer and still have my “extravagant” or lack there of life style with out any change, unlike my usual summers where by August I am eating out of the trash and basically sucking dick for crack. Well maybe not that last part, but you get what I am saying. The fuckers stuck me on the morning shift meaning I had to get up at pretty much 5:30 every morning and leaving me forced to surf windy blown out shit in the afternoons. It was only temporary…or at least that is what I thought.

May term came and went and I began getting even more hours as an influx of camp and convention groups came in. Apparently Westmont whores out its campus to anyone willing to pay for it all summer long. This sort of makes me a prostitute for the institute I suppose. Whatever, dollar bills! I have been working about 25-40 hours a week, work depending since May. My schedule changes week to week which is certainly a pain in the ass. I still manage a surf everyday and am stacking some mean paper while flipping burgers.

Reaping the fruits of my labor. Your looking at a bacon double cheese burger for yours truly. You think I would feed the customer this well, as if. Yes that is a plastic plate on top of a 350 degree F flat top grill. Safety as always is my number one concern.

Also it looks like I may actually become the full blown sous chef this fall considering that our old sous chef and my fellow friend in suffering Geoffrey is taking off a few months for hand surgery due to old age. The guy is like 62 and been a war horse in the kitchen for over 40 years. I am bummed to see him go as I have been able to learn so much from him and he over the past six months has become sort of a mentor to me not to mention a great friend. Honestly I don’t really want his job. If I get impressed into it I am looking at twice the head ache, three times the responsibility, 100% more bull shit for if I am lucky $2 more an hour. Whooooooooooooooot!!!!!!!!! I am actually going to have a sit down with my general manager this week to see what is going on with the fall semester.

Catering

This was close to 150 salads for a wedding at some Hollywood directors 30 million dollar estate in Montecito.

Those of you who frequently read the surflog know all about most of everything I have written and will write in this blog. Basically I may not write blogs everyday or even monthly these days, but I do however write in my surflog, my online journal, daily. So if you have not discovered it yet give it a peruse every now and again. My boy Trevor recently became Executive Chef for a local catering company here in Santa Barbara. I will not disclose the company so as to not cause any problems that this blog so often does in my life when I name, names.

He asked me if I would help a brother out for a bit while he got on his feet there. At the moment I am currently his sous chef. I am a double sous. Always a fucking a bridesmaid and never a bride! On my days off I am stuck either at an event busting my ass or in his kitchen prepping for an event. Its a good learning experience and even more paper to stack. At this point I am doing the best I have monetarily in about eight years or so. Last night I took Heather out to dinner, where I proceeded to get sloshed and told her “MONEY IS NO OBJECT”. And you know what? It wasn’t…

Here we are at the Palace toasting to Trevor’s new found success

And we cooked up a surf and turf feast for the occasion. That is grilled tri tip, Grilled fresh local prawns, orzo and roasted vegetables, and goat cheese horse radish bruschetta

DING REPAIR

Look at the ghetto set up I have going here. My board is propped up by a cooler in the ally way on the side of my building. I like to call what I do no guerrilla surf board repair.

Look at the ghetto set up I have going here. My board is propped up by a cooler in the ally on the side of my building. I like to call what I do now guerrilla surf board repair.

It never fucking ends. Just when I think I am out I am always sucked back in. I don’t even have a space to repair boards. I literally glass boards in my bathroom and then sand them in the ally next to my building. Its a fucking pain in the ass and I hate it. Yet for some reason surf boards keep showing up at my house to be repaired. It’s true that I am always breaking my own boards and needing to fix those. I have four spares meaning I only really need to fix boards a few times a year when I have destroyed all four. Usually in that time period I end up getting a new one anyhow. My quiver is in reality a bunch of destroyed boards with one or two good ones.

People still show up at my house with dings. They hit me up on Facebook. “Hey so my boy said you fix dings…ummm can you help me out bro?” My own friends are constantly hitting me up to repair their boards. “Please Chris, don’t make me go to a surf shop, your the man”. I am the man who hates fixing surf boards. I even get phone calls on occasion from people in New Jersey who need a board fixed. WTF. It will never end will it?

Just in case you thought I was exaggerating. That is a surfboard about to be glassed IN MY MOTHER FUCKING BATHROOM!!!!!!

Surfing

I have actually been surfing up a storm. Jalama has been the best it has been in ten years. The kelp is good, the sand is decent and there have been waves thus I have been staying wet. A normal day for me goes like this. I wake up a 5:30am, go to work and make food for about eight hours. Then I get off at around 3 pm, meet whomever hit me up first at my apartment to go up north with me. I only take one person and its first come first serve, no nepotism. Read The Rule of Two blog for more on my philosophy on that.

I change out of my work clothes, load up the car and shove off on the hour or so drive to Jalama. When we get there its not over, oh no. There is about another 25 minutes of walking on the beach to get to the spot, maybe further, swell and crowd depending. Then we surf for two hours, make the walk back, followed by the drive. If I am with Trevor we always stop at Denny’s in Goleta for a post surf dinner. If it is a party night then my day is not over. I come home, take shower, suit up and cruise to the Wild Cat. As you can see by this account of my day to day there is not very much time for blogging.
I managed a perfect month back in May surfing every single day of the month 31 sessions in 31 days and a few doubles as well. I don’t think I have accomplished such a feat since I lived in New Zealand. It was fucking exhausting and I surfed all sorts of garbage in all sorts of dumb crowds. You can read the May surflog to find out all about that one. Basically I have found a renewed love for surfing and my performance is off the charts. I may be surfing better right now then I have ever surfed in my life. Maybe I will write something about the perfect month here if I ever find some time.

I guess that pretty much should bring everyone up to speed on what has been happening in Lisanti Land. Heather and I are still together. Even I don’t understand how or why that is. At the moment it is actually going along at steady calm. Whether or not I am doing the right thing for me or her is yet to be seen. Just as I felt at the beginning I still feel now completely uncertain and confused. Then again who really gives a fuck anyway cause at least I am surfing every day.

My cooking partner in crime Calvin finally moved back out to Santa Barbara and is currently living on the couch here at the Palace. Where would I be with out a guy on the couch? Him and I are in the process of the early stages of planning that Italian restaurant I always talk about opening. He moved here with the intention of getting this place off the ground with me. With any luck our goal is the try and open it by July of next year. Lets keep our fingers crossed. Expect to hear more on this from time to time as it begins to consume my life.

Here is some homemade potato gnocchi in a meat sauce to get your mouth watering. This is just a taste of what I will be serving up at my restaurant.

What can you look forward to here on SurfingRuinedMyLife.net? Kooky actually wrote a Kooky’s Korner for me to publish. Of course this happened about a month ago or so, but my lazy ass never got around to publish it. Since I have not heard from him since he may be dead in Tanzania right now, though he will live on here on the blog. Nick the Kook was nice enough to write some of his recent adventures in Chile. He wrote these like two months ago and I never posted it. I am sure at some point I will rant about some bull shit like how I got a pimple on my right ass cheek and now it hurts every time I sit down to take a shit (that has not happened). There you have it, the last 45 days or so in my life. Glad you still decide to read the trash I put out here. Bye bye for now…

Calvin, Mark and I doing some R & D for the restaurant at the Wild Cat.

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Testing the Water: Big Sur Part III

Posted in Dating, Life, Surfing, tagged Big Sur, Chris Lisanti needs to learn that a 5'10 is not the best weapon for every surf situation, Cold, Fog, Jade Cove, Mill Creek, Sand Dollar Beach, Sharks, Surfing on May 11, 2014| 6 Comments »

***If you have just stumbled upon this piece and want to be brought up to speed before continuing on or need to refresh your memory on where we left off as a result of my lack of diligence and procrastination as a blogger check out Part 1: Big Sur, A Land of Endless Possibility and Part 2: Blind Exploration***

This wave definitely looked kill-able and from what I could tell although I was rather high up on a cliff. I have learned many of time in my life that it always looks twice as inviting from a hundred feet up or so. I eve had an idea on how I could get down to it involving an annoying but not terrible hike. If I had a keen surf bud with me and not a girlfriend in tow I think I would have went for it. Next time...

This wave definitely looked kill-able from what I could tell although I was rather high up on a cliff. I have learned many of times in my life that it always looks twice as inviting from a hundred feet up or so. I even had an idea on how I could get down to it involving an annoying but not terrible hike. If I had a keen surf bud with me and not a girlfriend in tow I think I would have went for it. Next time…

Finally after much traversing south down the Pacific Coast Highway 1 we came upon a small nondescript parking lot that by location appeared to maybe be Sand Dollar Beach. I would also like to note that I had began to notice for the past few miles lots of areas that appeared to be surf-able while driving past. Sand Dollar, being completely unmarked happened to be the first parking area I came to since I had started to see lots of surf. I pulled up to a gate house that was closed, though the lot was open with an honor box for the $5 parking fee. I was at a loss to understand what exactly I was paying five bucks for considering it was an unprotected beach, and unattended parking lot with no amenities other then a sketch ass water less prison style bathroom.

Its funny that in a place as remote as Big Sur there is still room to have your money taken from you around every corner. I was surprised a fucking squirrel didn’t try and extort ten dollars from me to watch my car and “keep it safe”. Whatever, at this point my long search was over and surf was found. Just to be sure I ran half way down the trail to the beach to make sure it was surf-able before donating my five smackers. Yes, I am that fucking cheap.

The $5 view. Certainly far from epic, but it was clean and surf-able. I was on it.

By this time it was early afternoon and a rather splendid one at that, especially for central California. The sun was still out and the temperature warm. Heather and I were stoked to spend a chill afternoon on the beach. I pulled both my boards, my 5’10 and my 6’1 step up. With no one out and nothing around except for huge cliffs and rock formations I had no way of gauging how big it was out there. I don’t know what it is about once one gets above Point Conception, but all scale for actual wave size and power are out the window for me. I guess I am and always will be a pampered Southern California surfer.

I love when I am about to paddle out at a surf spot and am greeted with a warm sign like this…

We loaded up and headed down a trail about 200 yards or so down to the beach. As we descended down to the beach I was able to get a better lay of the land. As far as wave height, I still had no idea. Could be head high, could be double overhead. I would find out soon enough. After coming down a few flights of stairs we found ourselves standing in the middle of a large beach closed in by a massive cliff headland to the north corner and a series of copious rock formations to the south end. The sand was of an almost dark green pigment.

I pulled out my step up since now at beach level the surf was with out a doubt a bit more size able then I had initially intended. I did not know for certain, yet estimated that it was surely over head on the outside. In a futile attempt to get the lay of the land I took a walk to the south side of the beach to see if there was anything with more shape then what the break had to offer. Maybe I would find some tucked away reef or wedge between or even inside of the rock formations. I found nothing of the sort, but between two of these enormous rocks was a deep water channel that looked as though it could provide an easy paddle to the outside.

Unsure of the potential hazards of taking that route I decided against it. I really had no idea what was under the water there and to be honest did not want to find out. The paddle out from the middle of the beach where we laid camp looked annoying and long, but seemed to me to be the safest way to go. Also I have a saying I have always lived by my entire surfing life by: “if you cant make the paddle out through the impact zone then you have no business being out there”. This mantra I especially try and hold to in places where clear channels exist. The last thing any one who surfs should do is put himself/herself in a situation that is beyond said surfer’s skill or fitness level. If you can’t handle the beating it takes to make it from the beach then you probably should not be out there in the first place. I have seen and even saved one kook too many that got in over his head as a result of an easy channel access.

Sand Dollar Beach looking toward the north side.

Keep in mind that the place was pretty deserted aside from one or two other couples on the beach. The one dude that did have a board with him, had a long board and was bailing. Judging from the conditions I assume he had a look and decided to not paddle. Ironically the place is pretty much written up as the most user friendly beach for surfing in all of Big Sur, maybe with a jet ski. It looked far from friendly, cold and a lot of work for little reward seemed more like it. While exploring the beach I found all these pale greenish little rocks rounded and smooth from the ocean that looked like jade. I am pretty sure it wasn’t although I read later on some where that Sand Dollar Beach is also called Jade cove because of the green stones that litter the beach. People do on occasion actually find pieces of jade down there. Whether the few I took with me are jade or not is beyond me. They looked cool and fancied by them I slipped the little green rocks into my pocket and walked back to where Heather was chilling.

By this point I didn’t know what to do. As I was watching it the surf conditions were steadily becoming more rough by the minute even though the wind was dead still. Literally ten minutes prior it was glassy. Big Sur, go figure. The sensible part of me was ready to bag it. I didn’t come up to Big Sur to surf anyhow and at least I tried. It had been a fun a day. Why not just hang out and enjoy the beach with my girl? Unfortunately the obsessive compulsive side got the best of me and I found myself suiting up for no other reason then the fact that I was there and the initial objective was to get wet and that was exactly what was going to happen. I for whatever reason decided to put my step up away and pull my 5’10.

An unexpected yet exactly what I expected of the Big Sur surfing experience. Big, windy, scary conditions with no one out but me.

Making the most out of the mess that it was out there.

I walked to the water’s edge all suited up hood and all. I figured the water had to be cold and with nothing but white water as far as the eye could see I knew I was going to be spending more time under the water then on top of it. The waves were breaking way out side as I began to work my way through the first inner bar. Then I moved on to the second. By the time I cleared this I had no idea where I was. The current was all over the place. From that vantage I had a good look at what the outside had on offer. Overall it looked like a bunch of giant close outs that I did not have enough board under me to even deal with. Meanwhile the second bar I was sitting on was offering some head to over head reform that was pretty sick looking and way cleaner then the outside. It was a bit hard to line up with all the turbulence and current, but I made the most of what there was to surf. I figured at the very least it was worth a twenty count. Heather had the camera out and somehow managed to get a few shots despite all the mess.
Believe it or not it was not as cold out there as it looked. After an hour or so of working my arms in search of kill-able reform and figuring I pushed the shark attack envelope enough for one day I opted to call it quits. I accomplished my goal and found a few waves. I also learned a bit about the erratic and volatile conditions of Big Sur. In particular an age old lesson I get constantly schooled on whenever I am north of Santa Barbara is that the surf is always way bigger, way meaner, way trickier, way more powerful then it looks from the beach. You think by now after all my travels, trials and tribulations this would have hit home by now. It never does though proving Einstein’s definition of insanity: doing the same thing over again and expecting different results. I sort of feel like that is exactly what surfing is all about. Sometimes we do get different results. Maybe surfing is insanity?

A brief moment of victory in a session that was for the most part filled with defeat.

I floated in stoked to have gotten wet and ready to make the most out of what was left of the day with Heather. To her credit she took all of the surf photos of that I have used in this piece. Who would have thought a chick from Ohio with no beach or surf background could manage to snag some decent pics? Go figure. I came in and shed off my neoprene. It was still warm and sunny on the beach. Since I never have to time to actually hang out and relax on the beach at home this mini vacation was the perfect time.

I thought I left the hood behind along with New Jersey. Cold water is still cold water.

My plans of a nice sunny afternoon on the beach were quickly thwarted by a crazy dense fog that rolled in with the blink of an eye. With this fog came a very eerie bone chilling cold air. That was it for us, we were done. Heather and I packed up and headed back to the car. Both our tummies were rumbling for a repast back at the cabin in front of the fire place. Of course we had absolutely no food and no idea where we could buy the antipasto spread we were looking to enjoy with our wine. Our first stop was this chill bakery/restaurant ironically called “The Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant, where we procured a cup full of fresh local olives and two specialty croissants. I figured just in case we find nothing else at the very least we could make a meal out of that. I must say from the little I saw and ate from there I would highly recommend and I will with out a doubt stop there my next time through.

The warm fire we couldn’t wait to get in front of. Unlike the broken hot tub that let us down.

Then we came across a bull shit deli/market that was technically hardly one or the other. One thing I will tell you about Big Sur the scenery may be free, but everything else is far from it. Be prepared to pay top dollar for everything. Even though its only 30 miles from Carmel one would think it was on the fucking moon with how over priced everything is. Long story short (ha, that’s a laugh with anything I tell) we spent a combined $70 on olives, croissants, a cucumber, two tomatoes, cheese, salami, prosciutto, bread sticks and a bottle of syrah(which was one of the cheaper purchases). That being said I made a pretty bad ass antipasto platter that paired great with the wine. It was excellent way to end a fun day of adventuring.

Day two of our fun tilled Big Sur adventure was over. Tune in next time for part 4 of this epic saga of a romantic getaway gone wild! Well as romantic as a trip with a surfer can possibly be. I promise more great pictures and maybe even some tamer surf? Find out in Part IV: The Final Juant.

A glimpse of what is to come…a northern Emma Wood?

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Blind Exploration: Big Sur Part II

Posted in Life, Surfing, tagged Andrew Molera State Park, Big Sur River Mouth, Big Surf, Cool Bridge, Garrapatta State Beach, How long is it going to take for Chris Lisanti to finish writing this boring ass Big Sur Saga?, Mc Way Falls, Point Sur, Sand Dollar Beach, Sharky, Surfing, The Surfer Magazine Central California Surf Guide Sucks Monkey Cock on April 21, 2014| 6 Comments »

Just another spot with surf potential on the right day.

I poked my head out from under the covers to sounds of sinking birds and the wind rustling through the trees. It was freezing in the cabin post fire going out sometime in the night. I got a breath of the fresh crisp air before snuggling back under the covers with my baby. Fuck it was cold. Santa Barbara has some cold to it in the early morning, but this felt like straight up winter time. In no rush why not sleep in a bit. I spend and have spent nearly every single morning for the last 23 years of my surfing life getting up early for waves. When I have an opportunity I relish in the luxury of being able to kick back, relax and not worry about rushing off to the next surf session.

That being said the call of the ocean to a surfer within a reasonable distance to the ocean is likened to the drums from the game in the movie “Jumanji”. Just knowing that rumble is out there is enough to give no rest to the keen. Despite being all warm and happy next to my girl half my mind was thinking about what surf potential was out there. By ten I had us up and ready to get on the road for a look about. My thoughts on the whole day was it was a vast amount of coastline to be scoured for both sightseeing and surf. So why not just pick a direction and wander about and see what turns up.

A random spot I came across with near to impossible access.

As I stated earlier in Part I I had absolutely nothing to go on besides a bad surf guide written by Surfer Magazine that my boy Mark left at my pad like 4 years ago. If you ever see Surfer Magazine’s Guide to Northern and Central California Surf Spots don’t buy it, accept it as a gift or if you happen to find it in the trash leave it there. If a buddy leaves it at your place mail it back to him or use it as kindling as I should have. In the end it’s my own damn fault for not taking the time to research it better. I literally own three California surf guides and had a central California AAA guide my dad left at my place this past fall. Some how I failed to take anything with me besides the aforementioned bull shit surf guide. The only map I had was the entire state of California Map I keep in my car, on which the Big Sur area is about the size of a fucking nickel.

Don’t even open this piece of shit. Surfer Mag should be ashamed of themselves for putting out such a piece of trash.

With a lack of any real plan or guidance I decided to go about things the old fashioned way. I figured Heather and I could meander about the PCH looking for the few spots the surf guide happened to mention. The closest spot to where I was staying was the Big Sur River Mouth inside of Andrew Molera State Park. From what I read there may have been a decent river mouth bar and a few possible reef breaks with in the vicinity. We pulled into the park entrance and it was $10 to get in. I asked the guy if it was worth it and he said he had no idea, but that the only foot bridge over the estuary to get to the beach had been washed out. To even check the surf I would have had to paddle across about a 100 yard creek with god knows what kind of sea life in it. Not feeling that situation I declined. The ranger referred me to Pfeiffer State Beach further south of there.

This reef break was a perfect A-frame. The left looked a bit more hallow though fast while the right peeled for easily 50 yards before meeting up with a close out end section. I will say this much it is way bigger then it looks. I was pretty far away when I took this photo. Even with no one out it had to be at least 8-10 ft solid. Access to it was just about impossible. I talked to some guy about it later on and he said in order to surf the spot you have to have someone drop you off, hop the fence then hike a mile and a half to it .

Rather then go by some obviously surf clueless ranger’s suggestion I got back on the road and headed north. The guide had mentioned another beach that was considered the first surf-able spot in the northern end of Big Sur, Garrapatta State Park. I knew that we would at least pass Point Sur on the way and countless other sites of interest. Yes I was technically scouring the coastline for a wave to ride, but we were also doing a bit of exploration in general. Sometimes the best way to take in a place is by just ambling about. Point Sur was a bit of a let down considering that access is restricted on the south side and the actual point to military and government personnel only and the north side is private property with plenty of no trespassing signs and barbed wire. I read in a leaflet about Point Sur back at the cabin that tours are given of the light house only on Saturdays from like 10 am to like 3 pm and a reservation had to be made a week in advance. For this trips purposes it was no meant to be. Once again that is alright thus giving me an excuse to make another trip, not that I would need one.

Point Sur, one of the more unique points I have visited.

In a lot of ways Point Sur was a bit like Morro Rock except connected to land. It was shame access to it was beat. None the less it was still a nice vista. As far as cool stuff to see on the way north the sights were endless and almost too much to take in. We passed over historical bridges, saw a cool looking sea cave, and overall just something rather incredible for the senses around every turn. Everything is just so amazing down to the opaque blue color of the ocean. If not for the thick jacket covering my body I would have thought I was in a tropical locale.

If I didn’t know better I would say this picture was shot a lot closer to the equator then it was.

We pulled up at Garrapatta and I could see the waves rolling in from the side of the road. One thing was for sure the waves were pretty solid. It was also rather clean and throwing from what I could tell. I literally ran down the trail in excitement thinking I was about to score a solo barrel fest. Not that the idea of surfing by myself in very sharky waters was a settling thought. Fuck it, if it was really as good as I thought, it was worth the risk. When it comes to sharks I always go back to this crazy Aussie body boarder I used to chill with motto: “mate I reckon if you get taken and survive you will never have to pay for a beer for the rest of your life and if you don’t, then no worries”. I have had a good run in this life anyhow. If my number was drawn so be it. There are far worse ways to die then doing what you love. Becoming part of the food chain is a useful death after all.

My first view of Garrapatta State Beach from the road. It looked like some epic West Australian Beach Break.

I literally ran down the trail to the cliffs edge and right away I was gripped with the harsh reality that what I was face to face with was more of a gnarly shore dump then a sick barrel. If I were a sponger I would have been all over it or if I felt like getting my ass handed to me for a sicky or two. In water just around 50F I was not about to go for a beating. The place definitely had real potential. Maybe on a different swell angle, tide, throw in some offshore wind and it could be a solid break. That may as well be the greatest mind fuck to surfing out in Big Sur the endless potential and the question “what if….?”. Either way it was another beautiful site to take in and totally worth the drive. I bet one could spend a life time surfing this coast and never even scratch the surface.

This was a cove I found some found in a nook of the coast that was closed out when I came upon but on its day could be all time?

This was a cove I found, some in a nook of the coast that was closed out when I came upon it but on its day could be all time? Look how glass it was being almost completely sheltered from wind.

What little understanding I had of the geography of Big Sur I figured there was not much more to see if we continued north thus we cruised back south and got a little lunch and re-grouped. At this point I really wanted to get wet. If you seriously surf then you totally understand that after a certain period of time passes where you are completely surrounded by waves and water and have not paddled the itch becomes uncontrollable. My book and other pre-trip research mentioned something about a Sand Dollar Beach. Actually, I surfed with some random guys at New Jetty who were from up that way and had said a bit about a Mill Creek also. Later I would find out that was considered one of the better waves in the area although I never made it there myself. The plan was set to head for this Sand Dollar beach.

More hard to get to set ups with potential

South we drove, and drove and drove. I really can have absolutely no understanding of distance at times especially when I don’t have a map. About half way there we managed to stumble upon this sick waterfall that literally dropped down onto this picture perfect crescent beach into the ocean. It was one of those sights you would see in a magazine or a poster on a wall. The funny thing was I only pulled over cause I saw a few cars parked on the side of the road and my surf instincts told me there might be something worth a look. Whenever I am in a location where there is surf I always check out a few cars parked near a nondescript beach access. Its how I have managed to stumble upon some of the best spots in my life. Plus the lay of the land looked like it could be a cove of sorts.

This was the view from the car when I parked. I mean c’mon where can you just happen to come upon a scene like this?

We got out of the car after having to wait for Heather to change back out of her heels and into her hiking shoes. The swap initially made for lunch so she would look her best at the tiny tourist/country bumpkin/camping general store near our cabin. Absurd, maybe, but it is also one of the reasons I love her. Would you expect anything less from me? We followed this little path a ways before coming out into a clearing in full view of this breath taking cove. There right in front of us was this picturesque waterfall. Ironically my buddy Diego had shown me a picture of this spot when I told him I was coming up to Big Surf. Now here I was staring right at it. If not for a little dumb luck and blind fate I could have missed out completely. I think the way we found the fall made it that much more special to us.

Mc Way Falls

At this point I must say it had been a rather complete day for most. For me, well, my hair was still dry and I was jonesin’ for a surf. I found a little map near the falls that showed we were not far off of Sand Dollar Beach and a chance to ride a wave or two in some capacity. Tune in next time for Part III, the sketch that is surfing in Big Sur. Sorry for the horrible delay between segments, but I have been super busy, lazy and what not. This shit takes time to compose as weak ass as it is. I hope you have enjoyed it thus far. If you missed Part I check it out here. For Part III click here.

A glimpse of what is to come…

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Big Sur, A Land of Endless Possibility (Part I: The Journey)

Posted in Dating, Life, Surfing, tagged Big Sur, California, Central California, ear, Fuck Bitch ass teenage kids who suck at surfing but think their good and piss me off, Hearst Castle, Killer Whales, New Jetty, North, North California, San Luis Obispo, Seals, Sharks, Surfing, Ventura, Wilderness on March 23, 2014| 4 Comments »

The North Side of Point Sur. Notice the sick little left hander in the background. I will only say this about the photo, it was shot about a mile away. Translation, that wave is way bigger then it looks! Harder to get too as well.

There is a place just north of San Simeon, and south of Carmel that will change one’s perspectives on life in general. A mere seventy some odd miles of coastline, Big Sur is an expanse of vistas and adventure locked into a desolate speck of California that is awe inspiring. I am a person who has traversed a large part of the coastal world, seen and experienced many amazing things in my life time. What I came across on my recent trip into Big Sur left my mind blown and my heart longing for a simpler life. My inner yearning for an existence beyond the reaches of man was once again rekindled. An answer was posed to the question: “There must be a better way?”.
For over ten years I have been avoiding this seemingly daunting stretch of coastline. “Don’t waste your time with Big Sur if you want to surf” said one surf guide. “The only true locals are the sharks and their brand of localism will kill you” said another. I even found a statistic claiming the only killer Whale attack in North America ever recorded on a human happened in Big Sur to a knee boarder. Throw in gnarly erratic weather, frigid water and heavy fog and lets just say I was always far from eager to make my way through. The only time I travel up the coast is to get waves and rather then waste it and swell on a shot in the dark I have always focused my energy between Monterey and San Mateo Counties where the options and score probability are way better.

The last time I actually did drive the PCH down Big Sur was with my parents. It was night time, the fog was so thick I could barely see five feet in front of me. Both my Mom and Dad were passed out, while I clung to the edge of my seat, my ass so tight it could turn coal into diamonds, traversing this crazy windy road with sheer death at times on either side if I was to make a wrong move and go off the road. When we finally got to San Simeon, our projected destination it was two and a half hours later to go eighty miles and I was so wound up I needed a fucking drink. Of course the liquor store was closed and the bull shit motel had no mini bar. I found myself frantically knocking at the night manager’s office to see if he had a nip. Lucky for me most night auditors are drunks and the guy was stoked to share a flask of whisky with me.

Bixby Creek Bridge, pretty in the day light, but at night with intense fog an easy way to die.

Fast forward back to recently, Heather and I had been talking about doing one of those cliche romantic couple get-a-away type trips for sometime. Truth be told I had never really been on such a trip before and thought maybe I have been cheating myself all these years. Also I never have dated the type of woman who would have been interested in such. Lets face it most of my romantic dealings with women are lucky to last past dropping her off in the morning. This whole serious relationship thing has been completely new ground for me with a harsh fucking learning curve. Fuck I thought getting proficient at surfing was tough. It’s a cake walk compared to this.

We decided that we would get a little place somewhere in the woods for a few days in February as sort of a birthday gift/engagement gift. I wanted to go someplace beyond the reaches of both cell phones and internet. I really was interested to get away and have some quality one on one time with my lady sans interruptions from the rest of the world. Whatever the needs of the real world wanted it would have to wait a few days. Originally the plan was to go find some snow and get a little cabin up in the mountains somewhere. Then Heather mentioned Big Sur and around that same time a friend of mine from back east had just recently spent some time there and had a rather good time with his girl.

I wanted to try and leave surfing out of the equation as best as possible. Those of you who are or know die hard surfers know that if you put a surfer near the coast with a chance of scoring waves it will consume him no matter what the initial objective of the trip was. As I stated earlier I had not ever really considered Big Sur for a surfing destination thus leaving it in the scope of a potential destination. We managed to find a cute little cabin in the woods just as we had hoped. I decided to pack a step up and a 5’10 just in case. The idea of surfing Big Sur was more of a novelty then anything else to me.

An unexpected yet exactly what I expected of the Big Sur surfing experience. Big, windy, scary conditions with no one out but me.

Just like that the trip was set for February 12-14th. Believe me going away for Valentine’s Day was not part of my plan and only painstakingly added to the utter cliche of the whole endeavor. Trust me I cringe at the thought of Valentines Day. Fuck I wrote a great little piece on the whole fake Holiday: “#@%% Valentine’s Day“. You can click the link to visit that blog for some fun Lisanti anger blindly targeted at yet another bull shit day. I must say I was rather looking forward to the trip all things considered. I never get to do anything different these days being I am so locked into the monotony of my daily routine. Heather and I rarely get any real quality alone time together either, considering our very contrasting schedules and lives.

The Journey North

The plan was to leave early in the morning Wednesday the 12th and slowly work our way up Pacific Coast Highway taking in whatever sights came our way. I hate rushing anywhere when I am on vacation. Half the fun of taking a road trip some place is the act of getting there. I have been on some trips where the actual process of getting there turned out to be more fun then the actual objective. Of course thanks impart to an impromptu dinner engagement the previous evening and bit too much wine those great laid plans of an early departure were all but forgotten.

Instead I decided to go surf New Jetty considering that Heather was still fast asleep, not packed or ready to embark upon an early north mission. When God closes a door he opens a window after all and in this case it was meager but rip-able new Jetty where I managed to get into an altercation with some stupid kid. So maybe it wasn’t such a great window after all. Still I got a few. I you feel so inclined you can read about that bull shit session in the February SurfLog, the 2-12 entry.

New Jetty living it up in the worlds best average wave and winner of the “better then nothing” category.

In classic Lisanti fashion we did not get on the road till around 2 pm. Not that it was a really big deal or anything. At that point I had come to the terms with the fact that it was going to be long past dark before we made it to Big Sur. My only worry was the difficulty of finding the cabin considering the remoteness of it’s location. Then again I figured we could cross that bridge when we came to it and it would only add to the adventure. The only positive thing about the late start was not having to worry about traffic since it’s pretty desolate up north and we were timed perfect to just miss the start of rush hour in Santa Maria and the end of it in San Luis Obispo. The trip was smooth sailing all the up.

When we got into SLO I headed for the coast. The wind appeared to be on it, but I had that st small hope of being able to find something to surf for feeding hour. Morro Bay was all blown out. One guy was paddling the State Beach there, but conditions were far from inviting. Rather then waste time getting all cold and frustrated attempting to surf trash I decided to keep cruising while day light was available. Plus I was hoping to get up to this beach just north of Hearst Castle that is one of the largest elephant seal rookeries along the central coast. I had missed it on my last trip.

The iconic Morro Rock, Morro Bay

We weaved our way up the coast in the waning light in all its golden red splendor. The ocean was on one side and the vast coastal hills to the other. Everything had all the makings of a perfect sunset and I hate wasting one. I found a chill little spot to pull over just under Point Piedras Blancas. There we watched the sun slowly sink beyond the horizon into the ocean. Behind us was the silhouette of Hearst Castle sitting on its hill top perch. Every time I see that impressive structure I cannot help but imagine what it must have been like to watch a sunset from one of the many verandas there. Nothing puts a day in perspective for me better then a good sunset.

Hearst Castle, a must visit if one finds himself on the Central Coast.

Luckily for us the beach with all of the seals was only a few miles away and we got there with just enough twilight left to see the scene. As soon as I stepped out of the car I was greeted with the craziest seal sounds I had ever heard. There was barking, screaming, cooing, snickering, snorting and howling. It was almost comical. Then I got to the bluff and the entire beach was littered with seals. It was rather entertaining and if not for the darkness and intense cold I think I could have stayed there for hours. The show had to go on and we were still a good few hours from our targeted destination.

For awhile there was nothingness as far as the eye could see. At most times I was the only car on the road in the darkness. After a good forty minutes of driving we entered the southern most part of Big Sur, Ragged Point. There was a small little resort area there called, you guessed it, “Ragged Point”. Thinking it might be our last look at civilization for God knows how long I decided we should stop and see about getting dinner. I also would like to mention that I forgot to grab my Central California Tour Guide book, only grabbing my surf guide and the weakest on of the three I had at that. Figuratively and literally in the dark we decided a bird in the hand was better then two in the bush.

The restaurant there was certainly bit on the fancy and pricier side than I was hoping for. Beggars can’t be choosers and in the rush of our late departure I also failed to pack adequate groceries for a journey into the uncivilized unknown. I pride myself on my ability to understand the terrain I am entering on any trip I decide to take on. I was this time around distracted by other stupidity going on in my life prior to departure and therefore found myself completely unprepared and thus had to wing it. Alone I don’t really have a problem with that, but with Heather in tow I felt a bit more uptight and nervous of our situation.

My expectations for this place was that I was going to shell out a lot of money for a less then stellar meal. Believe it or not I was rather shocked at the quality and portion size of our food. Heather ordered a very tasty sauteed jumbo scallop dish and I had a Lobster Pot Pie that easily had six ounces of lobster in it and was so tasty I considered stopping in on my way home. Whatever the case if your ever in Big Sur I highly recommend stopping for at least one meal at the Ragged Point Dinning Room.

After a our splendid meal it was back on the road for us. We were graced with a full moon and a very clear night making driving conditions as good as could be asked for in Big Sur. Seriously the moon was so bright I could nearly seemas good as if it were day. We drove the windy road in and out of the craggy coast line. About thirty minutes in I decided to pull over and have a look at my surroundings. Heather was sound asleep in the passenger seat as I stepped out onto the seaside cliff and looked out. Everything looked amazing in the silvery moon light. I had not seen so many stars since my tenure in New Zealand. The ocean was shimmering as the waves crashed in and out of the cliffs below. There was some type of rock formation out in the ocean as well that was just getting pounded by the force of the waves. It was a surreal moment and reminded me just how lucky it was to be alive to experience such an amazing moment of solitude.

Our Cabin was about another half hour or so in the actual town of Big Sur. When we got there it was after ten and everything was closed and not a person was stirring. The cabin was off the Highway 1 down a non-nondescript dirt road. Basically what this came down to is that the road was near impossible to find. I was given the most vague directions possible: “look for a big tree with a group of mail boxes near it. Road is passable by all vehicles but may be seem intimidating if your not used to country roads.” This is all I had to go by.

After almost thirty minutes of driving around in circles I finally came to what I thought to be the road up to the cabin. “Accessible by all Vehicles”, well I guess that is a different understanding for different people. In my little Civic coupe that is very low to the ground this muddy, rocky, root filled, pot hole ridden excuse for a road seemed like it was going to be near impossible. Coming into to it we passed a rusted out tow truck and a beat up atv. We figured that must be the Calvary to help get guest out who get stuck.

Our cute little cabin in the woods.

This creepy ass road through the woods in the dark with no one in sight just had a very “Deliverance” sort of feel to it. Then to make matters worse the road began to climb at like an 18% grade. How my car made it was beyond me. Sure she bottomed out a few times, but came through no worse for the wiser. We finally got in front of this cabin and it is full on looking a bit like “The Evil Dead”. I was waiting for Bruce Campbell to show up with a chainsaw attached to his arm and start hacking away at the rape tree. Actually it was a cute little cabin and I think both of us were very happy to get inside. As soon as we were settled I built us a warm fire, which we wasted no time in snuggling down in front of.

Nothing rewards a long journeys end like a warm fire.

From there it was into bed for us with excitement for what adventures tomorrow would hold. I was hoping to find some waves. Both of us were interested to see all the sights that we missed arriving in the dark. Among all things it was nice to leave all of our troubles of the real world behind and fins a little time in seclusion with just us and nature. In my opinion you cant ask for much more out of life then that.

For more Big Sur Adventuring check out Part II!!!!!!!

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Why You Should Never Go Above and Beyond the Call of Duty

Posted in Anger, Cooking, Life, News From Lisanti Land, Surfing, tagged Blood, Bull Shit, ER, Finger Penis, Finger Vagina, Fuck, Injuries, Injury, pain, stitches, Urgent Care, Workers Comp, Workers Compensation on March 15, 2014| 2 Comments »

I woke up this morning with a penis on my finger and a throbbing sensation. No my finger was not getting a hard on. In fact it was just all swollen and pissed off after the trauma it had been through in the course of the last twenty four hours. If you read the Surflog then you know I was off the past week for spring break and that up until today I was on a pretty decent surf streak this month. I guess that streak has come to an annoying halt.

Friday (3-14) was my first day back at work in about a week. In theory it should have been an “easy money” day as we like to call them at the kitchen. My projected number of diners was around 50 to 100 at best and I had another cook at my disposal for the shift. Like I said “easy money”. The menu was decent enough, white vegetable lasagna, BBQ chicken, turkey pot pie along with the usual sides. I took the slower day as an excuse to make the best damn lasagnas I possibly could. I love the less intense days so I can go that extra mile, which can be near to impossible on the days when your feeding 1,200, keeping tabs on six stations and eight cooks. None the less I always try to obtain the highest level quality possible.

By 3:30 we were pretty much solid on all the preparations and had nothing really to accomplish till four. I noticed the dishwasher had failed to put away a number of pots, pans, cutting boards and other kitchen related items. Being the nice helpful guy I am I decided to go into the dish pit and finish the job thus avoiding aggravation to my night dish washers who always have shit dumped on them. As I was stacking a group of 10 gallon pots above my head (a weight of over 30 lbs) I some how managed to get my finger caught between the bottom pot an the other three. A finger guillotine was instantly created and carried out.
You know when you know you just do something really fucked up to yourself, but at that moment while in denial you look at it and think “fuck, that ain’t so bad”. While intently looking at my finger, or what bludgeoned mess now resembled it I though maybe I could put it back together with a little crazy glue and a band aid. As I watched the tip of my finger flap in and out of position and saw that the nail was cut clean through I came to the realization that professional medical care was in need. Fuck it, it happened on the job thus I didn’t have to pay for it anyway.

I walked up to my boss, let him behold the bloody mess that was a finger and nonchalantly stated “I think I need to fill out an incident report”. He got rather pale in the face, handed me a towel and took me to the local urgent care. My own personal assessment of the injury and previous dealings with such had me almost certain the ER was not a necessity. Yes I do tend to find myself in these situations quite regularly. Its always amusing to me when I walk into a waiting room with a bloody towel wrapped around me and the horrified looks on all the other patients. All of a sudden their minor complaints of back pain and a sore throat seem rather minuscule as they think “shit, at least I’m not that guy”. Its ok cause I am always that guy.

Whenever I approach the check in counter the nurses are always thinking “Fuck, I don’t want to deal with this shit, especially at 4:30 on a Friday”. Meanwhile I always just try and laugh it off as I do with most problems that are thrown at me. Situations always are more fun when everyone is laughing even in an emergency. Not wanting to deal with my mess I was sent across town to an occupational health center set up by the town to deal with worker compensation related issues. Fucked up hand withstanding I was handed a clip board full of questions to answer.

The first few were apropos medical questions. When I got to the third page, yes THE THIRD MOTHER FUCKING PAGE!!! Mind you I am bleeding all over the place, the form, the chair, my clothes. I started reading questions like “What hobbies do you enjoy”, “what sports do you participate in”, “what music do you like”. I said to the nurse behind the desk “what are you writing a book? or am I filling out a dating profile?, or maybe your looking to sell my information to a mass marketing company, I don’t care which but I AM FUCKING BLEEDING ALL OVER MYSELF HERE!!!!!” Another funny thing about when you are bleeding all over the waiting room is how all the other patients immediately get up and move to as far away to the other side of the room as they can. As if the aids I am not carrying is going to jump into them.

I finally get in to see the doctor, who also consequently wants to go home cause its now 4:50pm on a Friday and his office closes at 5pm. All his nurses went home already leaving me with him, the x-ray technician and one of the receptionists, none of whom had ever assisted in such a procedure. Everyone was rather eager to learn and I figured what the hell, why not be a guinea pig. The operation got under way and I am not going to lie it was a pretty messy ass wound, all jagged and on a weird ass angle. The doctor decided to go right through the nail with the stitches, a technique I had never really seen used before. When he was all done he called the entire office in to see his handy work. I don’t know if he was really proud of the job or he just wanted to show how fucked up it was. Either way it was most amusing. When all was said and done I was left with a penis finger.

Four fingers and a Penis, lucky me. I guess it is better then the four fingers and bloody vagina I had prior to this photo.

That leaves us at this present moment as I finish painstakingly typing this blog for your enjoyment with a hand and a half. Looks like I am going to be side lined for a few days, maybe a week. I am not really looking to get in the water until the stitches come out next Tuesday 3/25. I asked the doc when he thought I could surf again and he said a few days if I duct tape it and keep it dry. With a solid looking WNW coming in for early this week I may have to take such drastic matters. Then again is it worth risking an infection and the possibility of losing the finger altogether? Time will tell my friends.

Flawless Rincon Cove, enough to make the reward out weigh the risk?

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Finding New Spots After All This Time

Posted in Life, Surfing, tagged California, Chris Lisanti, Chris Lisanti should be drawn and quartered for writing this, Hollister Ranch, Jalama, Jalama Beach, Lompoc, North County, Santa Barbara, Secret Reefs, Secret spots, Surfing, Vandenberg AFB, Winter 2013 on January 3, 2014| 5 Comments »

12-22

Crowds everywhere! What the FUCK! These days California has been no bargain if your an avid surfer. I have to say 2013 will likely go down as one of the worst years for surfing on record for the entire state. Besides a moderate spring season, which would have not even been worth mentioning if winter was not so bad, its been one let down after another. Summer started with some fun, yet far from epic south swells, followed by an unprecedented six week flat spell. Then the lot of us thought that maybe fall would be our redemption. Fall came and went with no combo action and nothing more then a few weak NW swells. The last hope, our saving grace up here in the Santa Barbara/Ventura area was winter.

Unfortunately as we watched Hawaii get amazing swell after amazing swell (usually a very good indicator that we are about to score), that same swell got to the California coast and sucked. Glad the boys at Pipe are scoring. Now already in peak season everyone is super hungry for whatever little bump mother nature decides to grace us with. What does all this mean to me? Exuberant crowds at all of the well known surf spots, my beloved Rincon being one of them. If you follow the surf log you may remember a session I had at Rincon not to long ago where the party was steadily ruined by a crowd of about 250 people. If your not following the surf log you should because that is where the meat of this blog is these days.

All of the overflow spots where I will usually trade quality for crowd compliance have also been stupid packed. Even the bad days where few would even think about paddling have become out of hand. By this past swell I had it up to my head with people. Luckily I was off from work till the 4th of January and had the ability to do some searching. Sunday the 22nd of December saw the beginnings of a new long period WNW swell. Since it was a weekend and a holiday weekend to-boot I was not at all eager to go surf anywhere. My boy Pat had called me the night before and put the idea in my head to go up to Jalama.
I checked the buoys, and the conditions. Sure enough it had all the makings of a good Jalama day. My only concern was that if the swell moved in too fast it would be too big to surf. My boy Mike ended up crashing at my house after a night at the Wild Cat in Fancytown and was keen for a surf. As soon as I told him my idea he was up for it. I called Pat to see if he wanted in considering it was his idea. He bailed, leaving Mike and I on a mission. That was fine cause three has always seemed like a crowd to me.

We struck out later then I normally would have liked for a Jalama mission. These days I’m always later then I would like when it comes to surfing anyway. The winds looked good all day and the only alternative was to sit in an obnoxious crowd for very average waves down south. Worse case scenario we had a nice drive, surfed a few waves and hung out. Jalama is always a good idea in my book.

We got there and it was solid. Tarantella’s was way overhead and crowded. I could tell from the bluff it may have been a bit more then I had a board for. I figured I could try my luck with Cracks or maybe even venture further south into the ranch and try some of the reefs I had scoped out a few years ago with Kooky Kyle while he was living at the Palace. I knew of one reef in particular I was interested to surf.

When we got in front of Tarantella’s it was packed, at least thirty heads. The waves were solid double overhead and bigger on sets. I could have pushed the envelope on my meager 5’10 but it would have been a slaughter. When I looked south toward the reef I had in mind, I noticed there was a wave coming in. Mike was keen and we set off. Keep in mind this reef is around 500 yards or so from T’s so I was going on speculation at best. There is nothing better then to walk that far down the beach only to realize it was a flash in the pan and have to walk back. That is the risk one must take to score.

Tarantella’s doing its thing. Believe me it is a much bigger then it looks.

As we approached the reef I noticed a few guys out. I guess we were not the only ones hoping to score a few waves off the beaten path. The left itself was a nice little slab. It came out of deep water and slammed into this little finger reef about fifty yards or so in front of a rock outcrop. The wave had a barrel off the drop on the double ups opening up to a turn section or two on the inside before closing out on the beach break shore dump.

That inside was heavy. I thought I was going to break my board or neck more then once. It appeared that the crew that was out there were together and at the end of they’re session. We chilled on the beach and assessed the situation. The last thing I wanted to do was crowd four guys who had also went out of their way to avoid such. Plus I wanted get the lay of the land so to speak.

To tell you truth I was glad there were guys out. It gave me a chance to learn the wave. With in fifteen minutes of getting there one by one the line up cleared. Mike and I suited up and paddled. It was solid overhead on sets. I had no idea where to line up or how deep it was. I have this thing when I go to a new spot where I have to pop the cherry. I caught the first wave which jacked up way harder the I had expected. Luckily the reef was rather conform and about four feet deep the entire way.

Mike and I made the most of this fun wave just enjoying the beautiful surroundings and laughing how lucky we were to experience such a thing on one of the most crowded days of the year. We decided to call the wave (although I am sure it already has a name) Pats Remorse since he blew it and stayed home. It wasn’t the best wave I have ever surfed and certainly far from the perfection of Tarantella’s, but considering the fact we had it all to ourselves it was just what the doctor ordered.

12-23

I woke up feeling rather sore from the previous day’s mission. The new swell had filled in according to the buoys. All reports came back that it was too walled for the beaches and too small and inconsistent at most of the points to make it worth a paddle. I took my time and waited as all my contacts kept me informed on their hunt. Finally Pat called and said he was coming up my way, the plan being to go try and get some waves in Isla Vista. All the college kids were home for the Holiday making the place and line ups a ghost town. There was plenty of west in the swell that at the very least Devereux and Sands would have something.

Devereux was tiny and kooked out with long boards and SUP’s. Sands had waves, but it was about chest to head and pretty walled with the occasional corner. Not too frothy we decided to take a minute and watch two goats head butt the shit out of each other. At the moment we decided that may have been the highlight of our day. I must say it was rather entertaining. One goat was twice the size of the other and they just kept smashing skulls. Every time we thought the little one was throwing in the towel it would back off just enough to get a solid lunge at the other.

At that point we did not know what to do. It was a good thing we didn’t just suit and boot the Sands. As we got back to the lot a fucking UCSB campus police officer was ticketing cars. The dude was chill and let us bail with out a fine. There were a dozen or so other surfers’ cars that were not so lucky. Between that and the goat fight I figured we were already ahead of the game.

While driving off the deliberation began. Then Pat said what we were both thinking, “What do you think about making another trek to Jalama. At that point I figured we had nothing left to loose and off we went on a very late day excursion retard mission. We got there and Tarantella’s was fucking huge. I am talking easily triple over head to twenty feet. Guys were getting tubes you could drive a car through. With a pair of 5’10’s between us Pat and I wanted nothing to do with that.

Bombing Jalama beach break

Up on the bluff just before the entrance to the park there is a little pull off where you can check the surf to see if it is worth the $10 parking fee. From there I looked north onto Vandenberg AFB. Through my binoculars I saw a few reef breaks that showed possible potential and looked like a not so far walk. A little further, a distance I really could not gauge from that vantage, could have been fifty yards or a half mile I noticed a really good right or at least what appeared to be.

Necessity it the mother of invention or in this case exploration. Pat and I loaded up our gear and started the long march to the unknown. Seriously we had no idea how far we needed to walk or if what we saw was even ride-able. We went on blind faith in the hope that our commitment would pay off. About a half mile in we got to the reefs we had seen from the bluff. They were do-able, but more closed out on the sets and unpredictable then one would have liked. From there we could see the mysto right hander better. It still looked pretty good. Unfortunately its distance still near impossible to tell.

Our right reef in the distance.

I had learned from countless missions abroad that the best way to gauge how far a spot is that you are walking to is to consider how much more visible it gets as you keep walking toward it. If that spot never seems any closer odds are it’s way too far to walk. When I walked to the Kumara Patch in Taranaki, NZ for example I could barely make out the wave from the parking lot, which was around 2 miles away. The spot did not look any closer till I got with in 3/4 of a mile from it. This wave was definitely looking closer every step.

In the distance just before access to the wave was a cliff head land. From our position we had no idea if there was going to be a trail around it or not. We did not even know if there was a beach beyond. As far as I could tell we were either going to have to climb down a cliff into the surf traversing boulders when we hit the water or paddle from the foot of the cliff. Either option seemed to suck to me. We had already come so far. Also the closer we got we noticed a column of white water that seemed to make the second section possibly impassable.

We kept on with high spirits. When we got to the cliff area there was a small goat trail around. Although an awkward grade to walk with a surfboard and gear it was far better then other trails I have had to traverse in my day. Sure enough the path emptied onto a big open deserted beach. The whole scene was surreal. Just Pat and I in the middle of nowhere staring into a right we had not known existed until that day. The only discouragement was that it appeared to look much smaller then we thought from the beach.

See any signs of human life?

We cautiously waded out into the water. Remember we had no way of telling how deep the reef was, or how sharp or what creatures may dwell beneath. It was all a mystery. Upon paddling closer to the wave we could tell right away it was much bigger then it looked from the beach. Almost to the take off zone, which was about forty yards in front of this rock out crop I decided to swing around on one of the insiders. Like I said I love to be the first to test the waters. What I thought was a smaller one ended up sucking up to head high and reeled down the reef. It had a nice bowly wall the entire way in.

The reef was rather conform, about five to three feet deep all the way to the inside shallows where it eventually went dry. On the way back out a set came and cleaned us both up. It was solid ten foot and bigger. The sets were make-able if you were in the right spot. I seemed to always get into them a little too late and got owned by the next section. The real gems were the in between ones that just hugged the reef all the way to the inside. There was a little wind on it, but we could tell that if it were glassy or offshore the place would barrel if not just at the first slab section, but the inside slab too. The place had real potential.

For over two hours Pat and I traded off right for right, pushing the limits of the spot each time. As the tide got lower a few rocks began to pop up in the take off zone that were a bit problematic. The wind picked up a bit out of the NW as well adding a debilitating chop to the face. Considering these new extraneous factors both of us decided to call it a day before any inopportune instances occurred. Over a mile from the parking lot and over 20 miles from decent medical help and no cell phone reception, an injury would be very inconvenient.

Pat said if he got attacked by a shark to just drag him into the beach, hand him his pack of cigarettes and let him smoke away till he bled out. There was this big sand drift at the head of the beach so I figured once he died I would just drag him over to the foot of that and push the sand down over him and call it a day. I could think of a lot worse ways to go and places to be left to rest. Considering the distance for help that seemed to be the most logical plan for any serious injury. I decided to tentatively call this right hand reef, Pat’s Redemption. T’was another good yet very unexpected day of surfing!

12-26-13

The day after Christmas Heather and I got a late start. It was nice to spend the morning together with out any obligations or a care in the world. Word was things down south were far from good and rather crowded. Heather had never been up to Jalama and conditions looked right. Figuring I could find a wave some where up there we set off. Like I said Jalama is never a bad idea.

We got up there around 2 pm way later then I ever make such a trip. As soon as I got out of the car I could tell it was bombing just by sound of the waves breaking. When I came over the dunes it was macking. I guess the new swell had already begun to fill in. Thinking things were a bit too big for Cracks and Tarantella’s considering all I had was my 5’10 again (you think by now I would start bringing my bigger board), the call was to go north. It was still smaller then when Pat and I came a few days prior. I knew of at least one left hand reef slab I wanted to check out.

We made the walk and sure enough the spot I was thinking of looked really fun. It was a short little left that offered a quick tube off the drop followed by a hit section, ending with a boostable close out. Basically it was a goofy foot playground. There was even a crazy right too, although its pace and steepness made it pretty tough to make. I did manage one sick one on the right.
Heather tried her luck with my DSLR and managed to score some pretty decent photos. Its been a long time since I got a few shots of me surfing. She was pumped on the whole experience. Most people are when they make it up there. Here we were basically with an entire beach to ourselves. I must say the only down side was I felt a bit like fish food out there all by myself. There is some solace to be found in the buddy system.
Besides the solitary factor that at times I actually do find most refreshing I have to say it was one of the best surfs I have had in weeks. As far as the day went I could not ask for a better one. The weather was great. I was at one of my favorite places in the whole world and I got to share it with the woman I love. Who could ask for anything more. Its the simple things in life that matter the most.

After a year of frustrating surfs, obnoxious crowds and all the other day in and day out bull shit one has to deal with its amazing to know all it takes is an open mind and thirst for adventure to take back your soul. Some people travel all over the world to find new spots. I found three in less then a week in my own backyard.

***This blog was suppose to post on 12-23, I wrote it on my cell phone and messed up posting it and somehow lost the whole blog. Thus it had to be rewritten. With the holiday it has been sometime since that initial lost posting that was regrettably promoted. I think this is a way better version any way. Sorry for the confusion.***

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My World Turned Upside Down: Part Two of “I Still Wear My Heart on My Sleeve”

Posted in Dating, Life, tagged Dating, Despair, Fate, Heart Break, Lost Love, love, pain, Sadness on November 26, 2013| 12 Comments »

Human existence is one of those entities I find so mysterious and utterly intriguing. Everyone is so different yet at the same time so alike. I just don’t understand anything about the world around me most of the time and as I get older care less to know. It seems the more I try to figure out whats going on the more lost and frustrated I become. Instead I try and go along for the ride and see how life unfolds around me acting and reacting accordingly.

That is exactly what I decided to do that faithful Thursday evening back in October and where we last left off a little over a week ago. Camus wrote a very intriguing short story entitled The Stranger about a wrongfully accused and convicted man the night before his scheduled execution. The whole premise of the story is him coming to terms with excepting the fact that he is powerless in his situation to alter his fate and that he is going to die. Once this is realized he becomes rather at ease.

As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, razor in hand, suit laid out on my bed that was just what went through my head. I was prepared to except my fate no matter what the outcome may have been. If I was to show up and meet Heather then I really had no control over what was going to happen. In the end it was to be her call. I needed it to be. I didn’t want to sell her on me, plea a case of why we should be together or persuade her to change her mind. I wanted her to either want to be with me because she loved me and wanted to build a life with me or let it burn and we would move on with our lives separately.

No matter the outcome I was resolved to be strong for if she truly was happier without me then I would be happy for her. It would be a bummer for me. Such is life. I had done everything I possibly could have. The matter was finally out of my hands. As I showed up at her door with me was my final poem to her, maybe the best one I have ever composed. I coupled it with an orchid, the highest most sophisticated flower a man should ever give a woman and not one to be gifted nonchalantly.

This poem I planned to read to her personally from my heart with my voice. That was just what I did. She cried, we hugged and then we went to dinner. I took her to this mellow little spot on Carrillo St., Roy’s. The food is pretty average but the atmosphere is very inviting and rather intimate making it a perfect date spot. Price wise it wont break your bank (by Santa Barbara standards) and they have a rather decent wine list. It seemed like the perfect place for what was to take place.

I must admit I was really nervous, more so then I had ever been. It took all my self control to keep from shaking at times. Our conversation and interaction was palatable to give me some hope, although my instincts told me the out come would be not all I was hoping for. I presented my thoughts and feelings. When I concluded she handed me a letter. I took it and put it in the breast pocket of my jacket to read at a later time.

She said she still needed more time, maybe till January or longer to sort things out. This was the answer I was expecting. At first I lost my composure. I kind of feel like anyone with a heart would have. I got a little defensive and a bit on the angry side. The whole idea seemed prosperous to me. We had only been together seven months and nothing catastrophic had passed between us that would warrant such a break.

The explanation was she needed to time to regroup and take her life back. I told her we should make the most out of the night if it was to potentially be our last night together. “Let’s pass this night together as lovers and then walk away in the morning as distant acquaintances”. We enjoyed our meal. There was some heavy emotion on both sides as can be expected of such. Afterward I took her down to the beach. I had gotten a bottle of champagne, one of my favorites and decided to blow my sax for her a bit. Heather had never heard me play before.

My music is a very personal thing for me and ever since I got out of doing it for a living I tend to keep my performances few and far between. When I do play, especially these days it’s in rather obscure instances, such as out on the beach at 12 am. The air had a cold nip in it that night. I wrapped her in blankets and played a few of my favorite standards and one of my own. I do believe it had quite an effect over her.

The rest of the night and early morning passed slowly although not slow enough. As I laid there in bed and she was sleeping on my chest I wished I had the power to stop time. That I could stay in that moment forever. It is not in the power of man to do such things nor would it be poignant to. Time most move on. Right before I closed my eyes I accepted this and knew that no matter what happened from there that I would always have that moment in my heart forever. If I could remember the shrouded felicity that passed between us, then I could always look back on the time spent with her in a positive manner.

The next morning I watched her walk out of my life, possibly forever. The plan was to meet at a certain location at a certain time on New Years Day if either of us felt so inclined. Until then there was to be no contact. If we were going to take a break it had to be a real break this time. I stood in the doorway of my apartment and listened till I could no longer hear her footsteps on the pavement. A sense of melancholy set in. Sure, there was always New Years, but the reality was it was not a reality at all, but a fantasy to help deal with the pain.

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I Still Wear My Heart on My Sleeve…

Posted in Dating, Life, News From Lisanti Land, Surfing, tagged Alfie with Crazy Hair, Bull Shit, Heart Ache, I hate working, I love Ice Cream, I love lamp, I Love Rincon, love, penis, Relationship turmoil, Shitty Bosses on November 19, 2013| 1 Comment »

Well about a month ago I started to tell a tale about Heather and I in “Whats Been Goin Down in Lisanti Land” blog. Since then I pretty much have fallen off the face of the earth as far as blogging is concerned. Although that is not entirely true. If you are an avid reader of the surflog then you already know most of what I am about to impart here. In that case consider it a more in depth recap of a very strange, emotional and trying month in Lisanti Land. Those of you who have been on the edge of your seat I really hope you didn’t fall off.

When I last left off Heather and I had decided to take a break or more like she decided she needed more time for that break. I did my usual grieving and spent the weekend at the Wild Cat finding my way to fancy town with Bizarro and the usual regulars. I had by that point just about written the relationship off. Fuck, I am a pessimistic person after all. Its so much easier to figure you are going to get screwed in the long run. This way if you do get screwed at least you knew it was coming and if you don’t then you are pleasantly surprised.

It all started at work on the Monday after the above mentioned Wild Cat romp. I was lamenting of my pathetic situation as most despondent poets and love enthusiasts do in such a situation to my buddy Hugo. Hugo to his credit has been with his girl friend for about a year or so and in his own way is rather romantic about it. If he reads this he will probably shank me for stating that. He told me straight forward “If you love her then fight for her”. I didn’t really know what to do or how to do it.

She wanted a break and space. How could I manage to make contact with her with out violating those wishes? Then the gears started to turn in my head. I immediately went to Shakespeare and re-read Romeo and Juliet. Alas that romance would not do for it did not apply to us. I thought harder into my archives and then it hit me. As You Like It, was the perfect place to start. Just as Orlando went into the forest of Arden to woo Roslyn I to would take up my quest to the West Side of Santa Barbara for my Heather. I hate to say it, but I think I would rather spend a night in the Forest of Arden then on the West Side.

I know I denounced flowers and poetry years ago after failed attempts with both Adrienne and Vespera. Then again that is the language of love. At first you don’t succeed, try, try again. With that on my mind I proceeded. It also helps to note that I figured I had lost her forever anyway thus what harm could a little courteous harassment do? I decided that at seven days before we were to meet I was going to leave her a flower and poem a day on her doorstep every morning.

Flowers in Victorian times, when matters of the heart and lust were done more discreetly held many different meanings to their beholder. I started with a singe yellow rose for friendship on the first day with a small poem and elaborated every day after. I was making custom bouquets, hand picking cards from this salvage shop downtown that went with the message I wanted to convey. I even potted a small arrangement in her grandmother’s antique flower pot she had left in my yard.

Mentally I was barely sustaining through all of this. On one end the effort put forth gave me a sense of hope. On the other a higher sense of despair. We were suppose to get together on a Thursday, but a deadline at work had her unable to meet me. Discouraged, yet not put off I rescheduled for that Saturday, 10/19. An alarming email sent by her to me, which I may have looked into a bit too hasty caused me to cancel and reschedule for that following Tuesday. That’s the problem with email its way to vague. I hate technology. Lets just go back to horse and buggy times.

Years ago I scored Santa Cruz with Mauriello. This was Middle Peak at Steamer Lane. On this swell it could have been just as good if not better

Then I got hit up Sunday morning by Mauriello claiming quite the NW swell was to hit his way. All signs pointed to Santa Cruz being epic. If I was to go I would have had to bail Monday night after work and not bet back into the Barb till that Thursday. The allure of scoring some of my favorite SC spots was very appealing. I almost pulled the trigger on it. If I were to blow Heather off yet again what kind of message would that have sent?

After much deliberation I decided for once in my life to go with my heart and not my crazy surf addiction. I regrettably declined John’s generous offer to score three days of what could have been some epic surfing. My life has been full of amazing waves and as hard as it was to not grab a few more I knew there would be plenty more opportunities to get barreled in my life. If I had blown off Heather that could have been my last chance. To my devote surfing readers believe me the decision sounds crazy. At some point in life surfing will not be able to fill your every need and want.

At this point in my life surfing although is still at the forefront of everything for me it is not my end all be all. Consequently the surf was absolutely shit here in the 805 during the time span I was suppose to be scoring up north. As it turned out Heather ended up canceling on me due to her not feeling so well. I knew she was not blowing me off. When you were with some one for as long as I was with Heather and as intimate, you know when they are telling the truth or not. We rescheduled yet again for Thursday, 10/24. At that point I was bummed I had not just pulled the trigger on the Nor’Cal’ trip. While I stayed home and agonized John charged size-able Ocean Beach.

Ok, I dont think it was this unruly, but Mauriello lives for this shit. Nothing but big cold closed out barrels!

Thursday came and I must say that I woke up with an air of calm relief that if was finally time to face my demons. Yet at the same time I was as nervous and anxious as I have not been in some time. Unfortunately my shitty boss roped me into working the early shift by pulling a dick move and putting me on the schedule for the AM shift with out telling me. I work and have been working pretty much the same schedule for the last four years. That being the case there is no point in me checking the schedule ever. Since I didn’t check it if I didn’t show up it would have reflected as an attendance demerit. After so many demerits you get a write up and after too many write ups you get fired.

At the moment I am on somewhat thin ice as it is. One because I can’t help but flap my mouth around when things are bull shit. Two because this whole Heather situation has had my attention and concentration highly diverted, not to mention my nerves and patience lacking. Three my drinking problem which I developed post Adrienne makes me a liability at times. All my higher ups need is a valid excuse to can my ass with out my being able to go to human relations and demand a fair labor hearing. Isn’t working for a big corporation awesome! If I get fired I am going to have to move on to my back up plan which is sucking dick for crack and then selling the crack for a profit. As glamorous as that life sounds I think I will pass on it.

I pulled myself through a shitty work day made worse by the feeling of the unknown of what the out come of the evening would be. I am talking beyond butterflies. I could not even eat. When 3:30 came I planned on bolting home and getting prepared both physically and mentally for the evening. As I was cleaning up my station around 2 pm I got a text from Ryan that Rincon looked fun. No matter the verdict of the night I thought there no harm in bailing out of work an hour early to go score some fun Rincon. Lets face it nothing makes me feel better then a good session at the Queen of the Coast.

No matter what life sends me its all left on the beach especially when that beach is Rincon.

I got a few fun ones up at Indicator and River Mouth and for at least an hour I was able to forget my problems. Or lack there of respective to people who have real problems in life. To each their own. The starving kid in Africa wishes he had the scraps thrown away by a low income American, who intern wishes he could eat filet mignon. Meanwhile the rich recollect on those bygone days when he was young and free and not so tied down by all his worldly assets. Its all relative. With a better mindset I drove home ready to face whatever my fate would be….

****To be continued. I know what an asshole I am. First I don’t write anything for over a month and then I leave you with a cliff hanger. Well read the old surf logs from October and November if you really can’t wait. Its late now and I’m tired. The rest of the story is pretty good and I do promise all the feeling and emotion that may have been graced over in the surf log and even some hindsight looking back over the situation. In the meantime here is a cute picture of Alfie to tide you over.*****

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Whats Been Going Down in Lisanti Land?

Posted in Anger, Dating, Life, News From Lisanti Land, tagged Fuck me, fuck Obama Care, fuck them, Fuck wage garnishments, fuck you, Heart Break, I am king of the idiots, I miss Heather, Maybe the King of Pain too, Rincon, When life shits on Chris Lisanti he turns around a squirts diarrhea back, why cant I just find men attractive and be gay, Women suck on October 8, 2013| 13 Comments »

Well my friends it has certainly been some time since I have written. All I can say for myself is that I have been super busy with both work and surfing. On top of the usual bull shit there have been some minor unsatisfactory issues in my personal life and annoyances in my financial affairs as well. When it rains it pours people, at least I remembered to pack my umbrella this time. Lets get started. If you are a regular follower of the surflog I shall apologize in advance for any redundancies. If your not reading the surflog then your missing out cause it is where all the uncut excitment happens on this blog these days. Check it out.

Surfing

Finally after a near six week flat spell with waves in the knee high and under range the northern pacific decided to wake up and start sending some swell our way. Considering NW is our primary swell generator up here in the Santa Barbara area it was a rather welcoming sight to be hold. I managed to get as much water time as possible and when I compile September’s numbers I will post up that month in surfing’s review. What I will say is that I am thankful everyday that I am a surfer and that no matter what happens or how hard I am tested when I put on my wet suit and step into the water everything makes sense even if only for the duration of that session.

Work

My boss decided to put shrimp skewers on the menu about two weeks ago. Do you have any idea how many shrimp you need to skew for 800 people. Look at the size of that bowl. Its a lot of fucking shrimp!

Work is a necessary evil or so I am told and we are all led to believe. Thus everyday, five days a week I show up to this place, this slave ship, punch the clock and work my fingers to the bone for a wage that is barely enough to keep my head above water. None the less I do enjoy what I do and make a solid effort to cook one really good thing a day for the students I feed. Its all good food, but I try and take one dish and just go that extra mile with it. That way at the end of the day I can go home with a small sense of pride. I have also decided to use the constant repetition of tasks to perfect my skill and technique. My knife to hand coordination at this point and overall speed is getting to be unreal.

Ultimately I know I need to make a change soon. Realistically I have hit the ceiling at Westmont for how high I can climb in the ranks. Ever since I got passed on for sous chef a year ago I had known this. I have seen plenty of cooks in this game stay at establishments years longer then they should have hoping to get a sous position only to be passed on time and time again. I feel this may be the case for me. My bosses don’t believe in me to be able to hold a position of responsibility and they are certainly entitled to their opinion. As for me, I have to do what is best for me.

At the moment I am weighing all my options even considering an entire career change. I love the culinary profession, but the pay just isn’t right and if it is then the hours are terrible. At this point I think the only way I am going to stay in the game is if I open up my own place. Otherwise I am exploring other avenues in life that could be more lucrative. Time will tell.

My Romantic Turmoil

As many of you know I have been in a topsy turvy relationship for the past seven months. We were stuck riding an on again off again roller coaster that neither of us knew how to stop. Our love for each other was pure. I know I loved her with all of my heart and would bet all I have that she felt the same. Life and our meager situations in life got in the way. Upon meeting me she had a falling out with the guy she was seeing, lost her job and found that the high cost of living and low wage rate in Santa Barbara had just about brought her to the brink of ruin.

I have been living in the above situation for the past six years and I suppose I am just used to it. Between all of that stress and the normal problems that can be encountered in a new relationship combined with the fact that I am a very acquired taste for most women we were most likely doomed from the get go. Of course this always happens when I decide that I am in love and ready to commit. Too little too late, when will I ever learn? Yeah, at the moment I am feeling a bit on the meloncholy side.

We didn’t leave things with out any hope. She mainly needs some time to get her personal affairs in order and think things through. I was granted that time by her not so long in the past and totally respect where she is coming from even if it pains me terribly. “If you love something set it free and if it comes back it was meant to be”. Yes I know I have written that before during all the Adrienne bs (You can check out “One Last Perfect Day” and “Bowing Out” to see what being pathetic and heart break is really about. Sorry long term readers, but there a tons of new readers now who may have missed these two gems of Lisanti despair).

I sort of got drunk on Saturday night at the Wild Cat, of all places. Then decided to drunk dial her 11 times in a matter of a half hour and left her four crazy messages at 2 am. Two were desperate pleas. The third was angry and the last an apology for the latter. Yep, that’s right I am a psycho. Any chance I had a patching up that relationship is over. I am sure the restraining order is in the mail. It was sort of like this scene from “Blades of Glory”:

I really need to start understanding that actual life and fiction are not one in the same. Then again how boring would life be with out a bit of drama. Hope you all got a good laugh at my expense cause long live Chris Lisanti, king of the idiots.

The Party Life

The epitome of Fancytown!!!

Never fear my friends it has not been all bad times here in Lisanti Land. As a matter of fact there has been many great adventures had in and around the vicinity of Fancytown. After a somewhat of a hiatus this summer I hit the Wild Cat with a reckless abundance restoring the unstoppable duo of Bizarro and I know as “The Chris'”. Besides the usual drunken debauchery that goes on in a club where the rules are few and gnarly personalities many the annual Gay Prom took place in September. This year it was a Gatspy theme and a formal attire affair. I have not had that much fun out since New Years. Except it was better then New Years because the attendees were almost all regulars and since it was a Sunday night there were no amateurs. Its bad enough we have to deal with that shit Friday and Saturday.

I am happy to report that the Gay Prom was the last time I have blacked out making it almost three full weeks. I know that doesn’t sound like a long time for you non alcoholics out there, but for me its quite an accomplishment. I hope to keep the being more sober ball rolling. Besides that its been business as usual on the scene.

The Chris’, a party force to be reckoned with.

Fuck Money, I am Going Back to Wampum

Financially my life is a fucking joke as usual. About ten months ago or so my creditors finally caught up with me after eight years and decided to sue me through the mail, no court room necessary. To counter file was like over $300 so I was shit out of luck. Then I thought a lawyer friend of mine was helping me out with the whole thing. As it turned out he didn’t do anything at all. End result I had a default judgement against me for over three thousand dollars. Currently there is a lean on my assets, which is comical since I don’t own anything, maybe they want Alfie and my pay checks are being garnished 15%.

If you thought it was tough living in Santa Barbara on my minuscule paycheck before, it is even harder with 15% less a week coming in. Then my shit head land lord decided to raise the rent $100 a month meanwhile my salary has stayed the same even thought he called it an “increased cost of living raise”. For who is what I want to know. I will tell you who, ME!

Thanks to Obama care in all its stupity and splendor I have been cut down to part time status this way Sodexo doesn’t have to supply me any benefits including paid sick time, vacation time and paid holidays. Looks like I just got screwed by big business and the US government. On top of all of that I am going to have shell out a sum of money each month for health insurance I am being forced to buy. Hmm…and that is how the rich get richer folks. Thats all from Lisanti Land at the moment. Now if you don’t mind I am going to fail at suicide and attempt to hang myself from my shower curtain rod. Awesome!

This face is pretty much how I am feeling at the moment about everything. At least its Rincon season.

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Surfing Ruined My Life

One delusional surfer's quixotic journey through life.

Archive for the ‘Life’ Category

The Final Jaunt: Big Sur Part IV

So It’s Been A While

Testing the Water: Big Sur Part III

Blind Exploration: Big Sur Part II

Big Sur, A Land of Endless Possibility (Part I: The Journey)

Why You Should Never Go Above and Beyond the Call of Duty

Finding New Spots After All This Time

My World Turned Upside Down: Part Two of “I Still Wear My Heart on My Sleeve”

I Still Wear My Heart on My Sleeve…

Whats Been Going Down in Lisanti Land?

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