I got overzealous on the size of the Turkey I was going to cook and it just barely fit in my oven. Some how I managed to get yams and the stuffing in there. To make the Pumpkin pies I had to drive them to my boy Tim’s house to cook them there. I had already filled the pies when I realized they would not fit in the oven and had to drive to his house both up and down steep hills. I ended up driving while holding two pies on what ever angle was opposite the slop. I somehow managed to spill very little.
“A trip here (Lisanti Land) really is an escape from reality, and I love how time or even loose conception of such doesn’t even exist. Things just happen between day and night and it all sorts itself out in the morning”. These were the words of my friend West, a relatively new member to the court at the Palace. I was very surprised when I got a call from him back in September asking if he was welcome to come stay with me for Thanksgiving. The first time I met West was when he innocently accepted an invitation from Kooky Kyle to come up here from San Diego and spend Christmas with him here in Santa Barbara.
I was suppose to go back to New Jersey to see my folks for the holiday and being that the two Jersey kids, West and Kooky were spending their first Christmas away from home I was glad they would find a comfort in one another. By early December I had decided that I was just not in the right frame of mind to go home and deal with all the family stuff. 2011 was a really tough year for me and at the time I was not ready to answer all the redundant questions that follow. “What happened?” “How did you blow it this tme?” “Whats your plan now?” And my favorite “You should have never let Sindia go”.
I was not nearly in the mind set for any of that. I changed my plans, cashed in my ticket and hunkered down for a Holiday in the Barb. What should have been a fun week vacation for West with an old friend turned into an experience of gnarl he would never forget that involved binge drinking, amazing waves, epic Rincon, good food, a healthy black out, a stabbing and an arrest. Business as usual in Lisanti Land. For the scoop on what happened read blogs: Christmas Dread Part I, Part II and Part III. Most of my regular readers deemed it the most epic saga ever written here.
After all of that ridiculousness the idea that West would even entertain a trip back to the scene of the crime sounded preposterous to me. When he actually booked his train ticket and was set to come I was flabbergasted. It seemed round two was inevitable. Then I was woken up a week before Thanksgiving very hungover, maybe even still drunk a little by a phone call from my friend Dave from Florida, another guy who spent about a month sleeping on my couch last season. Turns out he just got into town a day or so before. The stage was being set and the plot thickening for yet another adventure.
The usual turkey day plan for me the past four years was to go over my boy Ryan’s house and enjoy dinner with his lovely family and friends. This year however his wife went back to work and was not feeling a big event. Last year Ryan invited Dave, myself and Kooky Kyle and I do believe we all got a bit too inebriated at the table for his quaint mid-western wife. With no place to go I needed to think fast.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I am a chef, why not cook a feast for my usual Wednesday night dinner crew and all of our closest friends. As I was mulling this idea over in my head I had a conversation with my new roommate JP and as it turns out being from Belgium he had never experienced a true American Thanksgiving. That was all the motivation I needed. I ordered a 22 lb turkey from one of our distributors at work and began promoting.
Rather then compete with the dinners of others I decided to do mine on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, which was more appropriate since my dinners are always on Wednesdays anyhow. I added my boy Pat another recent NJ transplant to the group rounding it out to a basically entire east coast crew considering my usual Californian invites all stood me up. Two days out I began getting the menu together.
I decided to brine the turkey for twenty four hours to allow it to be both moist and flavorful. Learn how to do this yourself here. I made two pumpkin pies from an actual pumpkin another recipe I have featured here on this site click here for that one. Then I did a meat lasagna because I am Italian and in my family there has never been an occasion where there was not some type of substantial pasta dish. On Thanksgiving someone always made at least one lasagna when I was growing up. I just had to keep with tradition, not to mention I make a dank ass lasagna, sorry no recipe for this one yet. I am still at ends with whether or not to post my family’s Italian recipes that have been passed down orally for over a 100 years. I will tell you what if you want to come visit me here at the Lisanti Palace with the sole purpose of learning I will teach it to you hands on just as it was taught to me by my grandmother, mother and so on and so forth. Of course after such you will have to come get shitty with me at the Wild Cat.
My co-worker Chantelle made a zucchini potato casserole, cranberry chutney, and a pear upside down cake. I also did my families Italian bread stuffing, a basic garden salad and roasted yams. Of course there was plenty of good wine on hand as always. Like I said it was a veritable feast. I had expected 11 people, ended up with only nine. They were nine of my closest friends and in my book if you are a close friend you are family. Everyone pretty much gorged themselves with food and all were pleased. As far as I was concerned the dinner was a success.
Even Alfie chowed down on some Turkey. What part of the turkey could that be??? Hmmm I wonder…..
After eating Mark, West, Pat, Dave and I rolled to the Wild Cat, but when we got there we found ourselves way too full to even try and consume anymore alcohol. Minus watching Pat strike out with two decent looking chicks in town for the night and witnessing some poor schmuck get arrested for blowing coke in the bathroom, it was a pretty uneventful night at the club.
As per every Thanksgiving since I have lived out in Santa Barbara there were waves. The boys and I woke up and cruised down to Rincon. The crowd was its usual holiday circus. I was in decent spirits and did not want a session there to ruin that for me. Dave and Pat went for it while West and I cruised to Pitas and although not as good had almost 75% less crowd. You can read the surf log for the details on my Thanksgiving weekend surfs. I must say it was not the best I have ever seen it for the duration but it was fun. West and I scored a bonus glassy Jalama session on Saturday the 24th that was about as good a surfing experience one could get after which we went for a fun romp through the valley that West considered a perfect end to a perfect trip.
Overall I found it to be a better then usual Thanksgiving holiday. I had five solid days off from work. The company of some really good friends. I cooked and hosted my first ever Thanksgiving dinner that went down with out a hitch. We all scored some good waves. Despite a solid amount of drinking and partying no one got sick, blacked out, got injured, died, had regrettable sex with a mutant (thank you West) and West did not get arrested. Thanksgiving 2012 may just have to go down as the best ever! All that in the midst of the “Fall of My Malcontent”.
I know its been a while my friends. I must confess I have been really busy doing absolutely nothing. Sometimes that is what bogs me down the most. My mind and emotions have sort of been rather scattered the last few weeks. Between the destruction back home courtesy of Sandy (see “Speechless“), some interesting developments at work, my new plan to race the Iditarod, the worst fall season of surf after coming off the worst summer of surf we have seen here in the 805 in years and the usual bull shit I just have not been able to sit down and compose a formulated thought.
Believe me I have a bunch of half started blogs just waiting for me to sit down and finish them with the right frame of mind. Kooky Kyle posted a great Power of Ten list that totally inspired me. He gets the first 2 points of the Fall UCB quarter.
1)OTB: OTB stands for “off track betting” and it is the lowest of the low of legal gambling. Basically they are at their best little clubs where people can bet on any type of racing going on that day including dog races in some venues. At their worst they are little holes in the wall with a bullet proof glass counter for taking bets. The clientele of an OTB are basically a collection of really sorry folk who have a serious gambling problem. That being said some of the best Seinfeld episodes had scenes at the OTB and there is a great Richard Dreyfus movie called “Let it Ride” based on the horse race gambler’s life style.
2)A Free Case of Wine Every Week: I fucking wish. Right now I spend way, way, way too much money on wine, being that I drink about a case a week. I am talking a California case of six, not a dozen and always have help. It would have to be good wine too. I would really be pissed off if I was delivered a case of Charles Swab, Rex Goliath, Yellow Tail or Bare foot every week. Yeah I am a pretentious prick although I prefer wine snob.
Just an average week here in Lisanti Land.
3)What if Prince Showed up at My Door as a Jehovah’s Witness?: For starters I love when Jehovah witnesses show up at my house. They are always good for at least an hour’s worth of entertainment. Usually my course of action is to get them so fed up with what a piece of human trash I am that it is pointless to help me find salvation. Last time one of those poor bastards spent nearly two hours with me and I think he was ready to cry by the time he walked out the door. If Prince showed up I would just make him sing “Wanna Be Your Lover” after which I would sign up and join in on the quest of the Jehovah witnesses. Cause if its good enough for Prince then its good enough for me.
4)Why are the sous chefs the ones on top of everything and the chefs are usually fuck ups?: The goal of an aspiring chef whether in culinary school or starting at the bottom as a prep cook or garde manager is to one day become an executive chef at which point one can relinquish the bulk of the responsibility of running the actual kitchen to some other poor sap looking to move up in the world. This slave to the kitchen is better known as the sous chef. He is there in order for the executive chef to have the freedom to better harness his creativity over the actual menu and organization of the kitchen. If I were to ever open up my restaurant after I got things up and running I would look to train a very competent sous chef willing to kill himself so I would not have to. Instead I could focus more on the actual product coming out of my kitchen, how customers view the place and that sort of thing. I think mainly Exec chefs just get lazy when there is a very competent sous in the kitchen. In respect to the sous he would rather not have the exec chef breathing down his neck all night either. Its a give and take. Fact of the matter is in most cases those “incompetent” chefs as you like to call them have paid their dues and are just reaping the benefits of such. A good manager is smart enough to hire people he knows can do the job to his standards with out constant supervision. If I have to keep my eye on the sous all night then what was the point of having him?
5)What Country Parties the Hardest?: I don’t really know if I can be an authority on this although I have traveled extensively in my day. I know every country I have been to I have partied pretty hard. Then again I always seem to find a party in even the most unlikely of places. Overall though I think the Aussies go pretty nuts. Any time I am partying and someone is going absolutely bat shit crazy it’s usually is an Aussie. Everyone has their moments though I am sure. If Lisanti Land ever gets recognized by the the United Nations then I guess I would have to say it would be in contention.
6)Best Toast I Have Ever Heard: Its rare I hear any toasts that are not the same tired bull shit that is expected to be said. Here at the Lisanti Palace I give a toast at just about every meal that is shared between myself and anyone who is bold enough to join me. Theses toasts can go anywhere from heart warming, to a brutal stroke to my narcissism, to nothing more then the usual gibberish that comes out of my mouth. Two weeks ago my buddy Tim’s girl friend brought these two annoying hipster fucks to one of my Wednesday dinner parties. This is fine cause I always enjoy new people at these shindigs. Something about the two of them just rubbed me the wrong way from the get go. Some body joked about who should say grace. Being the arrogant, obnoxious prick that I am I stood up and said “we don’t say graced in my house cause I take no direct affiliation to any god and if we are going to say grace maybe it should be said to me since I maybe a type of god”. Then I raised my glass. My normal guest laughed at my insanity as always, the new comers stared at me appalled and my French-Belgium roommate had a look of fear in his eyes that could only be “how did I end up here?”. Talk about creating an awkward situation. Lucky in my house there is always plenty of alcohol to brighten up any uncomfortable scenario.
7)Favorite Thanksgiving Food: Considering Thanksgiving just passed and now that I don’t spend it with my paternal family it has really come into its own for me as a holiday. For me it would have to be lasagna, yeah that’s right lasagna. In an Italian family it doesn’t matter what the occasion there has to always be some type of pasta course. On Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember there was always lasagna. To this day I uphold this family tradition.
8) Favorite SRML Avatar: Well I have to be honest my regular readers with the exception of Kiefer and myself it seems most of you just use the little monsters Word Press assigns to you. I have to say Kiefer’s is pretty awesome. Mine, well shit that a picture of Alfie all jacked up on an over dose of flea medication, pre-heroin days is classic
9) Is Parko Going to Win at Pipe: I don’t really know what to expect. The ASP WCT has basically become as valid as professional wrestling where judging is concerned. Historically we have seen Parko blow the title race more times then once at Pipe Line then again he does surf the place rather well and has a pretty good track record for getting into the final rounds. At this point the only guy who can stop him is Slater and I believe in order for that to happen Parko would need to go down before the quarters and Slater win the entire event. Slater winning at Pipe is not out of the question. He seems more motivated this year in Hawaii then we have seen in a long time. The reason why Parko is your current ratings leader is because he has been Mr. Consistent all season. At this point my prediction is Slater will take Pipe but Parko will win the world title. Like I said I have little faith in the ASP judges so your guess is as good as mine. Never discount the Champ, he comes out of a tube at around 1:34 in the video below that is absurd…
10) The Evolution of the Wild Cat: My tenure at the Wild Cat started in March 2008. Back then it was pretty much a full on gay bar on some nights or a gnarly Mexican gang hang out on others. Consequently being a homophobic New Jersey guy I stayed away. My friend Julie brought my boy Brennan and I in there for a crazy night of partying. It was then that we realized the potential of the place for partying and picking up chicks alike. By mid 2009 I was going there pretty exclusively with the occasional stop at Sharkeez, Sand Bar, James Joyce and O’Malley’s because Corey was in love with the bar tender there. I met Adrienne there in the summer of 2009 and ironically as a result of her my time at the Kitty was decreased to one night a week about twice a month. By 2011 when we broke up and I returned to the Cat I was nearly forgotten by most of the regulars and staff. Sara still tended bar there and remembered all the money Corey and I used to blow. Amber was still working as a waitress, the entire security staff was basically the same and Sharon a bar tender I greased up a ton back in the day had just began working there again. The place had become my comfort zone and I pretty much found myself there most nights of the week. These days I am very well taken care of and one can find me at the Wild Cat any time I step out downtown which is always Friday through Sunday with occasional odd days mixed in for good measure. It’s my Cheers, just bit more gnarly. At the moment I have some really tight friends I roll with who have become my own little rat pack so to speak. In the end I would really like to see my relationship with the Wild Cat dissolve into almost never. For now it fills a certain void in my life and I will leave it at that.
This was a giant wave pre-storm surge in Cape May, NJ at a spot called Poverty’s which can be a really fun shore break barrel on a strong Nor’Easter. Looks like it bit off a more then it chew here.
I woke up this morning, my little toe was three shades of purple and looking rather infected. Surfing was out for me, probably for a few days, yet this was the least of my concerns. All that was on my mind for the last two days has been the absolute destruction and devastation to my home town of Manasquan, New Jersey courtesy of Hurricane Sandy. As much as I hate New Jersey and it’s seemingly reciprocal feelings towards me to see what has become of it has been rather heart breaking.
Then I consider all of my friends and family back there and what they must be going through actually having to live in what has seemingly become a third world country. I was on the phone with my sister last night who evacuated to Pennsylvania with her husband. They went back up to Manasquan and basically found out that more then four feet of water had filled the first floor of one of our family homes. The cats although a bit freaked out were safe. Most of the furniture was destroyed, the wood floors, the carpets, the appliances, three cars all ruined. At this point power is estimated to be out anywhere from 8-10 days and there is the possibility that the drinking water is no good.
I fielded a call from Kooky Kyle later in the evening who is scalping generators, batteries and other survival apparel, currently making a small fortune. He is doing a good deed as well even if it comes at a cost premium to those in need. Supply and demand is the American way after all. In his defense he called me to see if my family needed anything from him. My parents are currently in Florida. At the moment they are planning on staying at their home there till things get a little more stable in New Jersey.
This was once a street in the beach area of Manasquan…
At the moment it looks like Bosnia over there minus the civil unrest, although I have heard rampant looting has broken out at the shore causing residents to have to show proof of residence to even get to their own homes now. My parent’s beach house in Manasquan as of right now we have not a clue. From the few pictures and the little bit I have heard things are pretty bad up there with most parts of the island buried in anywhere from 8-20 feet of sand. Their house sits on the narrowest part of the island and on an estuary that floods around the house on a regular full moon storm high tide.
The house with the brick steps that are all torn up used to be rented by a friend of mine when I was 16. I used to store a board and wettie over there so that whenever my mom would punish me and not let me surf I would tell her I had to stay after school for something, ride my bike to his house and go surf.
One can only assume the house took it on the chin pretty bad. It was built on a floating foundation to begin with. At the moment access to the island is very limited and from what I hear just about not drive-able with out heavy equipment. Some of the bridges are completely blocked by boats and debris. I had a quiver of surfboards in the crawl space of that house. Let me stress the word “had”. My entire family is safe and from what I know all of my close friends as well and in the end that is all that matters anyway.
This is the Brielle Road draw bridge looking rather inaccessible.
Things are heavy over there to say the least. It was not only my town that took things tough. From video it looks like Long Beach Island was ravished, parts of it still under water. Casino Pier in Seaside Heights has been just about entirely washed away. What was once a venue of rides and amusements, not to mention one of the top surf spots in NJ has been reduced to a pile of sticks and rebar. The Ocean Grove pier another surf spot I frequented is gone as well. I sit here writing this at a loss. Part of me wishes I was home attempting some help to those in need. Then again I don’t live there anymore.
The remnants of the once grand Casino Pier, Seaside Heights, New Jersey. Yes that is a roller coaster in the ocean.
I suppose my heart will always be in New Jersey no matter how much I try to deny it and be Californian. Its Halloween here today and everyone is getting hammered in costume yet again for about the eighth straight night in a row. With the exception of my few friends here from New Jersey not a single person even mentioned if things were all good back home to me. Its 3000 miles away on a completely different coast so who cares right? Well whenever there is a fire or earthquake here I get calls from most of my loved ones back in NJ to see if all is ok here. Hey to each their own. As for me at the moment I don’t feel very much like partying.
I wish all my friends and readers in New Jersey the best of luck. Hang in there guys one thing about Jersey people we don’t take shit from anyone or anything. I know you guys will rebuild bigger, better and stronger then ever. To my surfing friends out there; We may have lost a few spots but I bet when things clear we most likely gained a few as well. The red cross has set up a relief effort fund for the havoc that has been unleashed on the Jersey shore. If you feel so inclined every bit helps https://www.redcross.org/donate/index.jsp?donateStep=2&itemId=prod10002.
The closest house with the first floor buried in sand was the residence of my boy Cory and his girl Tagan. Hey guys if you need a break from all the bull you are always welcome here at the Lisanti Palace. Heck the Palace would not be in my possession if it was not for Cory.
And then just like that it happened. I must admit I have been feeling a bit of a failure at life lately as was evident in the Summer of Alf recap blog. Do you know I was seriously considering leaving Santa Barbara to move into my parents Florida house so that I could live rent free and save some money to make a fresh go of things. It was a really long summer this year and I think I put a few too many over ambitious expectations on myself. I also think that society and its pressures for how a person of my age is suppose to live/act had a bit do with things as well.
End result I found myself freaking out that I was not where I was suppose to be. Who knows more about where one is suppose to be besides himself? I read a very interesting quote the other day something that up until lately I have always lived by: “The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn’t work don’t buy into it”. As of late I had been buying into it.
I began to climb into this terrible relapse of self pity I seem to revel in with the utmost countenance. Another thing I recently picked up from my current book Tuesdays with Morrie is trying to only allow myself ten minutes of self pity either at the end or beginning of my day and then its on with the rest of my day, night, week, month, year and eventually life. Its very easy for me to get lost on the path of life. I am distracted very easily be it negative or positive stimulation or the two together.
Then a day like today comes along and I am reminded once again that all the bullshit that frustrates the hell out of me day in and day out does not mean a damn thing. When I dropped into the first wave for me of the season today at Rincon, set my rail, pulled that first twenty yard bottom turn back up towards the cascading lip, punching through it with the nose of my board, feeling my tail come free on the re-entry and hearing the crash of the spray falling all around, then repeating this on that same wave about eight more times before finishing up with a three foot gap air all my problems and despair were gone. Eradicated from my mind in a matter of seconds.
I can’t remember the last time I smiled so big for so long. Everyone around me was stoked too adding to the surreal feeling of the moment. The other day I surfed small Emma Wood with this body boarder and he was amping on the meager offerings that I was basically giving a forced paddle cause I drove. Turned out to be a pretty fun little session, you can read the surf log for more on that. Afterward we were both changing at our respective vehicles, him putting on his shirt and tie and me my chef pants and coat. Before driving away he looked at me and said “And now back to reality”.
What is reality anyway? I used to believe it was living within the parameters set by our current society. That just about never made me happy thus Lisanti Land became my warped sense of reality and I found life to be for the most part happier. Maybe for me reality is working and struggling for that occasion surf session where everything falls into place like today and things make sense.
Yeah on paper I may come off as a bum. I am 31 years old and barely make enough to cover my expenses, have to live with a roommate, stuck in a dead end job. I don’t have a family of my own and may never get that opportunity. I can’t keep a woman or at the moment even get one to entertain the idea of being with me. But, I can go out and catch a hand full of amazing waves at Rincon or most other surf spots for that matter and turn that moving bump of water into my own personal canvas where I paint my soul for sometimes no longer then a fraction of a second and then its gone forever. In my head that memory, that feeling shall never fade.
Please keep that big house on the hill, that nice car, the picture perfect girl and subsequent family. Take your fancy high paying job you sold your soul for and stuff it. At the end of the day I am the one in the barrel and that is what my life has been about for as long as I can remember. That piece of foam and fiberglass under my feet cruising down a glassy line with out a drop of water out of place, that is where my soul is, that is my salvation…
I am currently super behind on my monthly surf reviews. I guess there really is not shock there. I decided the other night to run the numbers from July considering how dismal a summer it was up here in the 805. Now I know this is not really the place to be in the summertime, but still in past years there were at least a few unreal days. July was mostly about suffering. I had not the money or time to travel south to better wave locals and it was windy most of the time up north, nor did I have a wettie warm enough. Besides two tropical cyclone swells there was little if anything to get excited about. Here is how it all shaped out according to the numbers. I will say one thing I was rather frothy for whatever was on offer.
Number of Surf Sessions: 21 Days Surfed: 20 Total time Spend in the Water: 35hrs
Number of Waves Surfed: 644
Average Waves Caught Per Hour: 19
Spots surfed: Santa Clara River Mouth: 15 Mesa Lane: 3 Gold Coast: 2 C Street: 1
Top 3 Surf Sessions (taken unedited from the Surflog):
3) 7/13/12 AM Session: 2-4+ft, Santa Clara River Mouth
Time in Water: 2hr 15mins
Waves Surfed: 43 My roommate and I cruised downtown last night for some pool and other shenanigans. I found a box of books on the walk home. Surprisingly I woke up rather well rested and ready to surf. I got to River Mouth and the wind was already on it, had been all morning. My boy Ryan was out so I just suited up ran down. Turns out although a bit on chunky side there were plenty of really fun lefts. I ended up frothing the shit out of the session catching anything and everything that came my way. I stuck a few nice ally-oops, went for a shrink wrap that I almost pulled coming unstuck on the switch stance landing. It was a sick sess to say the least.
2) 7/30/12 AM Session: 2-4+ft, Santa Clara River Mouth
Time in Water: 1hr Waves Surfed: 21 I got a late start this morning. I was not really expecting much to be happening out there. Buoys had dropped from the previous day and the tide was a bit fat. Stephanie was suppose to surf with me, but missed me by about ten minutes. Chris Lisanti does not wait for anyone in the morning. Surf always comes first, always. I got down to River Mouth and it was clean with some small but fun looking peaky bowls. There were a few guys scattered along the different banks. Turns out when I got down to beach level it was more like chest to head and solid with double up barrels. It became an instant froth fest for me. I had a deep ass FS tube that I have no idea how I made it out of. Stuck a bunch of critical reos and some decent airs. Then as I was paddling back out after landing a sizable fs air reverse I saw this right sucking up off a rip on the sand bar. I stroked into and air dropped into the pit. I felt my board crease, even heard the pop when I hit. I grabbed the rail to stabilize the board, but the pressure was just too much and as I was about to come out my board snapped right in the middle under my feet. Just like that the session was over. The board itself was kind of at the end of its life. It sucked that I had to have my session cut short. I guess I am going to have to always start bringing a spare again. Great session while it lasted.
1)7/17/12 AM Session: 3-5ft, Gold Coast
Time in Water: 1hr 15mins Waves Surfed:22 I only surf the Gold Coast when the surf is either just right so the place fires (its one of the few spots that can handle south wind) or if I am with a novice and looking to beat the crowd. Today both entities held true. I have been trying to make time with this chick I met through Lindsay a few weeks prior. At first the attraction was purely physical but as of late I am really starting to enjoy her company. I know this puts me in a dangerous predicament emotionally, but maybe its time for me to try again? Whats that fall off the horse saying about anyway? Our schedules really contradict thus making finding time together difficult. Last night she hit me up wondering if she could come surf with me in the morning. She has some skills but they are rudimentary at best meaning a surf with her has to be a compromise between waves the both of us can ride and a place where I will not be disgraced by other surfers for bringing her there. I know I hate it when guys bring girls who cant surf out at Emma Wood. Last night I thought nothing of it. The reports all showed average south swell from Fabio leading me to believe the morning was to be average at best and thus ok to give up. We checked Kooks Peak and there were a few fun looking bowls out there, fun for both of us. I just wanted to have a look at the Gold Coast since the wind was right. Sure enough it was firing. I mean I started to froth. I must have tore my wettie on so fast it was not even funny, although The kook beat me, but I am a slow changer as anyone who surfs with me knows. I was going to help her along, but it was just too good out there and I just ended up frothing. Literally it was as good as New Port is on a good south swell. I got one tube that had to be like 75 yards long. I had some sick airs, almost brought down a huge bs full rotation air but came unglued in the landing. So far I would say it was the session of the summer!
Today marks the official end of summer on the modern Calendar and if those Mayan dudes are correct we are just a few months till the end of the world and thank fucking god cause I don’t really have a back up plan for 2013 if the world does not end. With the end of this summer also concludes the SUMMER OF ALF!!! I know it feels like it only just began and now it is over :(. Was it a success or failure? You will just have to wait for my Summer of Alf index report blog to find out, although if you read the surf log you might have been able to speculate the answer to that one. If not check back at June, July, August and September and you can make your own assumption. Then read “Of Things to Come” and really see how well I did accomplishing some of those summer goals and if your completely lost on what the Summer of Alf is read “I declare this the Summer of Alf” blog. Then answer the fun poll below. Hooray!!!
The 21st of September does not just end the summer of 2012 or THE SUMMER OF ALF, but also the summer quarter of the UCB. I know what your thinking, what quarter you only wrote like 2 UCB’s. Whatever, sorry folks I was too busy living in the moment of the SUMMER OF ALF and getting drunk at the Wild Cat and fornicating with loose women. Yeah for sluts at the bar. Nothing says good times like waking up in the morning next to a person you have no idea ever meeting or how she got to be in your home, let alone why she is naked next to you. Ahhh single living,thank you Ades for all you have done for me. I am sure I will look back on all this someday and laugh…NOT!
Before I close out the summer UCB quarter I thought why no conclude it with one more Power of Ten list. Mauriello takes the cake on this one. I must say there were some really hefty lists posted. Choosing one was a realy mental fight. Ultimately I let Alfie choose. John you can thank him for your two points.
The cat of cats Alfie making this months Power of Ten winner selection.
1. Die Antwoord: Die Antwoord is this ridiculous house music group from South Africa. Mauriello is currently obsessed with them and after watching way way way too many of their videos on YouTube.com I too have been a bit corrupted. Who are we kidding I was already fucked to begin with. You can make the decision for yourself. “Old enough to breed, old enough to bleed, old enough crack a brick in your teeth”. Oh the shit that is out there in this world and then we wonder why our society is slowly falling apart. Then again people thought Shakespeare was obscene in his time.
2. Interacting With Normal People: I think by now if you have been reading for a bit or even if you just read the intro to this blog you have figured out that I am not like everyone else. The word “normal” is very subjective kind of like when one tries to judge surfing. To me normal means behavior that comes natural to oneself. In my mind everything I do is normal. Unfortunately according to the standards of society I am actually very abnormal. So that brings us to the question at hand, how do I interact with normal people. Mostly they are appalled by my actions, speech and behavior. Some are awestruck, others deeply impressed and the a small group slightly to very confused. Most of the time I am not serious about anything and am very sarcastic. I make a suicide joke on here at least once a week. I find the taboo very amusing and like to play with those parameters. This makes your run of the mill everyday American very uncomfortable. More then that I do whatever I want, whenever I want, where ever I want regardless of the consequences. I am brutally honest and not afraid to make a complete ass of myself, which usually is the outcome for me 90% of the time. Normal people just don’t understand me and therefore put on an uncomfortable smile and occasional awkward giggle biding their time till they can politely, but promptly take their leave of me and never come back. Those of you out there who have witnessed this know exactly what I am talking about.
3. Nicholas Cage: Ireally like Nicholas Cage. As a matter of fact I cannot think of a movie he has been in that I have not liked. Sure he only has three looks, creepy happy, creepy angry and creepy pathetic, but he uses them well. “Leaving Las Vegas” is one of my all time favorite tragic romances, “The Wickerman” is a gnarly ass suspense that has you guessing till the last second. “Lord of War” and “The Weatherman” will have you laughing your ass off. “Gone in 60’s Seconds” is action packed and “8mm” is just plain heavy. Just to name a few.
Sort of looks like when I go grocery shopping.
4. The Implications of Granny Panties: This is a very good topic and one I have some experience sadly with. When the granny panties come out you can kiss your sex life with your girl friend goodbye along with it. Basically what cotton full cover panties means is “I don’t care about turning you on anymore”. With this always comes the sweat pants, “Im too tired” and ultimately her sleeping next to you in full on pajamas. It means your girlfriend, wife or whatever does not give a shit about sex with you except for that two times a month when she is horny. Its a very sad predicament my friends. I am not saying ladies that you have to be in thongs all the time, but there are plenty of sexy options out there in pantie design that will still offer comfort but drive us wild. Yes you may not be comfortable sleeping naked, but there are also plenty of sexy sleep options that are comfortable as well. That XXL t-shirt does not do shit for me. I know, how bout if I gain thirty pounds grow a beer belly and sit around on the couch all day in a pair of stained tighty whities and a wife beater. Sounds grotesque doesn’t it. That is exactly what we think of the granny panties. Its only ok if your a granny and I am so old that not even an entire bottle of Viagra could get my dick up. Let the hate mail begin!
5. Roommates: Ahh roommates, the necessity of the poor. Sure I could live with out a roommate if I wanted to go live in Goleta, Carpinteria, a shitty part of town and give up my ocean and mountain view. Either that or I could rent a studio with one room, a bathroom a microwave and a hot plate. Sorry I need a kitchen and love my view. That being said the Lisanti Palace is not cheap and Alfie that lazy S.O.B wont go out and get a job. Thus I have roommates. Here at the Palace we have been through dozens. Some were crazy, some sucked, some loved shooting heroin, others were great. Overall my only goal in this life is to someday make enough money that I can support the Palace on my own. That and get my Bentley of course.
6. Backside Barrel Rides: I love backside barrel riding. It is way gnarlier, looks sicker, is more technical and you can just get so much deeper in the tube. When you come out of an acid drop drainer back hand with no grab and nothing but your hands on your testicles it’s legendary. I am a goofy in the northern hemisphere which contributes to an inane backside tube ridding ability. It also helps that I grew up in New Jersey known for either flat days or heaving right hand barrels. Now I live in Santa Barbara home to two of the best right hand barrels in the world, Sand Spit and El Capitan. Lets just say when a heavy one is bearing down on me backside I don’t even think twice about pulling in.
Slab Happy in South Australia
7. Bar Fights: There is something really invigorating about getting into a good old fashioned bar fight. It seems these days I have been getting into way more of my share then I should be. The main cause of it is when other guys girl friends decide they would rather hang out with myself or my buddies. Then the other guy gets jealous and comes over all angry “What are you doing with my girl”. Then I respond “hey guy if I were you instead of wasting your time getting all huffy with us you ought to check your bitch”. Next thing you know punches get thrown. In Australia and New Zealand guys will drag you out of the pub with the sole intention of fighting you just because. You will rumble and then the winner buys the loser a beer and they are friends for life. It happened to me when I was in NZ and that dude and I chilled all the time after that. For a funny bar fight story involving yours truly at Fiesta last year read “Fiesta 2011 Ole!” Blog. Basically I started a full on bar room brawl by accident. Read it I promise you will laugh.
8. Fast Food: I know I am a very accomplished cook and purveyor of eating well, but there is just something about a juicy Big Mac that just gets my mouth watering. I have this guilty passion for fast food. There is just something about consuming a weeks worth of caloric intake in just a matter of minutes that fascinate me. I am also dumbfounded on how they manage to charge so little money. All that sodium and grease, oh baby…YUM! Top five national fast food places in order from least to greatest: 5. Taco Bell, 4. Wendy’s, 3. KFC 2. Mac Donalds, 1. Subway, fuck if its good enough for Happy Gilmore it is good enough for me and with $5 foot longs all month you bet your ass I am doing some damage there.
9. The Fountain Head:The Fountain Head is a master piece novel by Ayn Rand. I was turned onto her by my ex-girlfriend who at the time passed it along to me. It blew my mind and I could not put it down. The Fountain Head pretty much sums up human integrity into a few stereo typical categories reflected from each of the main characters. Be for warned you many not end up being the character you expected if you are a person who can look at yourself truthfully. I saw who I was really fast and it helped me a bit to make certain alterations in my own life. If you do read it or have read it I think you will clearly see which character reflects me the most as well. More then anything the novel is a true testament to the human spirit and staying true to your own beliefs no matter what the cost. First and fore most this has always been the driving force in my own life. “All these years I had hoped to run into you so I could ask you just what you thought of me after all I have done to destroy you”…”Honestly I don’t think about you at all”-Howard Roark.
10. How to Meet Ms. Perfect: These days popular opinion keeps telling me that I am going to meet her on the internet on some online dating site. I could not even stomach the idea. I would be ok with meeting someone off Craigslist cause like I said before its a bit more sketchy on there. Any chick who has the guts to post on there is a woman worthy of my esteem or at least a look. I am sorry but I am a hopeless romantic at heart and our meet cute has to be something out of a story. I have only seriously been with three woman and all there were such. There was no internet involved, well maybe just a little bit in my most recent failure. I guess that was not so recent anymore. If you don’t have a romantic story early on than what is going to happen to your relationship years down the pike? Maybe I am just old fashioned and a dreamer, but I think I will keep dreaming.
I thought I would take a brief break from the Pacific Northwest saga and write about the ten hour retard mission I went on today in search of ride-able surf. In case you were teetering on the edge of your seat for the very exciting conclusion don’t fall off, you will just have to wait. Part four may just be the best of the whole darn thing. That whole trip was sort of the cause of today’s events.
Before leaving for Portland there had been in a serious drought of surf here in the 805. The summer was atrocious as it was and then the last few weeks of August just gave up on us all together. At the time I was working like crazy at Westmont helping our very short staffed kitchen keep running. Every time I leave town one can bet his life on the fact that there will be waves. Holding true to this theorem before leaving all the forecasts were calling for a solid little south swell to hit California.
A lot of fucking good that did me in Portland. At least my friends were going to score. Its one thing to miss a week of surf if there has been swell, but its quite another when you cant even remember the last time you paddled. I took it like a good sport, a very rare feat for me. I figured when I got back it would be September all the weather folk are predicting a return of El Nino. No worries there will be plenty of surf.
Well I watched the swell materialize from my computer in Portland, peak and die. Then I looked at a forecast as far as the 14 day out look and it showed no better then 1-2ft. At that point I may have screamed a few profanities while smacking the wall with the sole of my shoe. Things were looking grim. I need to surf. It’s not a hobby for me but a necessity of life similar to that of breathing air. For me there are only two modes of action, surf mode and non-surf mode.
Surf mode is chill. I wake up every morning and find some waves to shred before work and my days are spent for the most part mellow and stoked. I mean sure there are some frustrating sessions and still a bit of drinking and partying but overall I feel really good and that I have a reason for living. Then there is non-surf mode. This kicks in after I have not surfed for a period of more then 5 days.
Non-surf mode for me is the complete absence of enjoyment out of life. I become a zombie just going through the motions of my everyday not caring. I feel out of shape and very lackadaisical. My mood becomes somber. I drink more and the partying gets out of hand. By 8-10 days I barely remember what surfing is all about. I sleep till the absolute last moment I can before work then come home and pass out after work. I become a total ball of dog shit.
That was exactly where I found myself when I woke up Monday morning, dog shit. A solution needed to be formulated to this downward spiral I was falling into. I checked all the forecasts for all of California. It looked as though Jalama might be the call with favorable looking wind conditions and some NW wind swell. Monday night I called a few of my surfing cohorts to see who would be the lucky passenger on my excursion up north.
First one to respond gets the seat in my car since whenever I got up north I strictly follow the rule of two. My boy Kevin Angers jumped at the chance with in minutes. Then towards evening he unexpectantly dropped out leaving me in a scramble to find a number two. North county is shark country and if you bring a buddy at least you cut your chances of being munched on in half or have someone around to witness your death. I always tell my friends if I get eaten feel free to loot my life, just make an anonymous call to my parents to let them know I have perished.
“Hi Mr and Mrs Lisanti you don’t know me but your son Chris has been eaten by a great white. Too bad, so sad. But remember he is not really gone if we find a way to remember him. I am doing that by taking all his stuff, keeping what I like then selling the rest on craigslist. Bye now.””
I hit up this dude Pat who used to go to college with both Nick the Kook and Alex No Friends back in Melbourne Florida. Turns out he recently moved to Port Hueneme in Oxnard County. He hit me up a few weeks ago for the skinny on the surf scene and as usual I was happy to oblige. Anyone who wants to come move up here and suffer through terrible surfing 90% of the time is more then welcome to my advice, which is always “Have you considered moving some place else”. Never being up that far north he was stoked to go.
We convened at the Lisanti Palace at 6am and cruised northward with high spirits and lots of stoke. I love the drive up there it is very peaceful going through Gaviota and then onto route 1 through the ranch. Then you turn off onto the Jalama road which is this twisting snake of fun banked turns with cliffs and rolling hills. It is very scenic. When we got in sight of the ocean it was offshore and from up on the bluff looked around chest to head high. Stoked we drove into the camp ground and got ready for the walk to cracks.
It was not until we started walking that we realized that a vantage up high usually will tell you a lie. All we kept seeing was knee to waist high G.I. Joe waves with a crowd of twelve on one peak with poor shape. We sat down on a piece of drift wood to contemplate our current situation. I had to surf. Besides the long over due need for a score it was 9/11 and I have always surfed on 9/11 including the day it all went down. It has been a standard for me. If the entire world is falling apart and all is going to end I want to be out in the water when it all goes down.
I decided the best course of action courtesy of more miss information from Surfline.com was to run up to Surf Beach. I think they should send a check for $2 to anyone who writes them that they got screwed by a poorly produced forecast. Surf beach is more exposed to open ocean swell, but also to wind as well. I was desperate and Pat was game so we cruised.
When we arrived at Surf Beach it looked really fun actually, by Surf Beach standards of course. There was no one out for scale but having spent a number of surfs out there now I assumed it was over head. Why was there no one out you ask? Surf Beach is fucking closed till September 30th as a result of too many violations of the beach rules set by the Air Force since the spot is technically on their property. As it turns out 50 infractions is the magic number to close the place down.
At this point I had just about lost it and was ready to have a freak out Lisanti style. Then I remembered that Pat is new to Lisanti Land and may not be able to handle such a scene. I took a few deep breaths while pacing in circles around the parking lot. I was up the creek with out a paddle. I opened the trunk of my car and pulled out my leash as I scanned the parking lot for a spot high and strong enough to hang myself from. The light at the far end of the train station looked more then adequate.
As I was constructing a noose it hit me, what about further north? There was Pismo but a surf there was about as bad if not worse then not surfing at all. Then I thought back to the protests against the county charging for parking at select beach parks and there was a place just outside of Guadalupe that was on that list. I though heck if there was a beach there why wouldn’t there be waves. Killing myself would have to wait about 30 minutes till we got there. Guadalupe is know for its giant dunes so I figured at the very worst I could try and bury myself alive.
We traversed this sketchy little road through the dunes before coming out to the ocean where to our pleasant surprise there were waves. It was not perfect. There was a slight texture on it and it looked a bit shifty and hard to read. There were two guys leaving as we were pulling up. After all that effort you can bet your ass we were suited up and were in the water in no time flat. I just got a new Excel 4/3 for a steal off the internet and was warm as hell. Pat on the other hand had this very old O’Neill that looked like Swiss cheese.
We got out there and right off that bat I had a nice right. I felt very rusty and out of shape the entire session. For three hours we traded waves in the very tricky conditions stoked. It was far from good by any means but when you have been wave starved as long as I have or come from Florida like Pat it was good enough. There were some really fun sections. We had an entire line up to ourselves, a pod of dolphins decided to join us for a bit. The seals even seemed to be chilling. It was not the score I had intended, but I definitely made lemonade out of lemons.
Fuck surfing I’m over it. I think this is the new course my life is going take. I am going Gangnam Style, whooot!:
I’m an addict and I’m strung out. Its been one bad fix after another for me and at this point I am at my wits end. I have paid dearly for this bad habit for the better share of my life. The worst part is 90% of the time all my efforts go to scoring deplorable dope a best. There was a time when I thought I had a chance at beating this illicit action and even had it well at bey and under my control. Now I realize I am beyond hope and will suffer at my own lack of self control for the entirety of my existence.
I have known others through out my life with the same affliction and watched such destroy them as it has been slowly destroying me. I have seen others successfully enhance their problem so that they could make the most of their self indulgence. What am I talking about my friends? Is it my alcohol problem, I really wish that was the case. That is something I have always been able to control. I am talking about my surfing problem.
I get plenty of emails and messages asking why surfing ruined my life. The answer I always give is that surfing ruins your life when it becomes your life, your main purpose for waking up in the morning. When you get to this point your life as a citizen of our current social structure ends and your life as a surfer begins. Tons of people claim they surf and that they are a surfer, but until you have blown off some of life’s most important happenings to ride 2ft wind blown close outs or cashed out on your entire known existence to move half way across the world in pursuit of a wave that has a name you can’t even pronounce your just a dabbler.
Is it worth giving up everything you know for this everyday?
I surf close to 7 days a week and have put myself in a situation where I can surf every day if I really want to. Those few days a month when I don’t surf I hate myself all day for it. Don’t believe me peruse the surflog section of this site. Most surf addicts are in the same boat as myself. I will even give an honorable mention to guys who although may not get to surf everyday have put themselves into a position that they can and won’t ever miss a fun day. It is very understandable if you have a wife, kids, house and full time job necessary to support the latter that it is not practical to blow off responsibility for 2ft blown out crap. Those guys have a schedule to keep and for the most part have done a stellar job to make surfing a part of that schedule.
A few days I posted a surfing blog and a positive one at that, “Better then Sex“. This blog epitomized the true essence of what surfing is all about. Its propaganda like this that has the masses stoked on getting into flopping around on a piece of foam. It fuels, magazines, websites (this is loosely one of them), movies, television, surf camps, surf schools, surfing resorts and as a direct result surfing is more popular and profitable then it ever has been even in a current period of fiscal recession. Out of this giant “surfing” population it is only maybe 10% who are truly addicted, 5% who have given up having a “regular” life for it and 1% who have given up everything in pursuit of the perfect wave everyday for the rest of their lives.
I fall into the 5%. I need to surf everyday and have like I said structured my life through many series of pain, heart ache and tireless frustration in order to accomplish this. I have also caused similar to plenty of loved ones and great friends on my journey. In all truth I really don’t have any friends. One cannot count on a person who’s entire life is based and planned around a 5 day forecast. Sure there are as far out as 14-day forecasts but those who are really serious know only the five day can be trusted. For the last 12 years my life has revolved around the 5-day surf forecast. At first friends, family, women I have cared about find this intriguing, attractive, even entertaining, but when reality sets in and they realize its not a sport, instead a way of life, a tragic one at that. Those same allies sooner or later give up. Just like you would on a hard drug user who won’t quit.
I have begged, burrowed, hustled, stole, lied and cheated in order to keep getting my fix. When things are good and the surf is pumping us addicts are stoked and awesome people to be around. When it begins to falter and conditions meager our attitudes change very fast. Instead of that happy go lucky perpetually stoked individual all the propaganda portrays you have a cranky, frustrated, irritable, aggressive, and ultimately depressed entity that is a far cry from the advertisements that got one to buy a surf board and wet suit in the first place.
As stoked as I was on Saturday with near epic River Mouth is as let down I have been since. Following that session of amazing proportions I have surfed nothing even remotely worth the price of admission. There have been bad winds, even worse tides, terrible swell angles and poor periods. To make matters worse add in the regular problems and stress of the everyday grind and things become unsettling really fast. I lost my job, my roommate, can’t keep a girl, summer traffic has been worse then ever thanks to a new highway expansion project that is going to make my life miserable until 2015. By the time that date comes the population will have doubled and the traffic as well thus making the road work to be completely obsolete. There is nothing worse then sitting in traffic for 2 hours to get to a surf spot that should have taken 20 minutes only for it to be over crowded and 2ft and windy.
Throw in a host of new surfers, both beginners and intermediate. Its those average “I surf a few times a month or when surfline.com tells me to” that really cause all the trouble. We can thank every surf camp, surf instructor and the creator of the fish and fun shape for this. Believe me I helped, which makes it all the more ironic. Now when its small and terrible, a time when I usually had most breaks to myself or shared with a few other die hards it is packed with groms who think they could be the next Dane Reynolds, kooks who just graduated from their soft tops, soccer moms on their stand up paddle boards and valley boy Joe who just pulled up in his mustang convertible.
It is these days when I hate surfing the most. I have given up everything to go ride those terrible waves that were once uncrowded. My stoke meter was already at a 3 and I was forcing myself to paddle. When you add the crowd that level decreases to .01. That was me this morning in the dirt lot above Emma Wood, where I sat for a good hour deciding if I should surf, go home, or throw myself off the cliff in front of a passing train. The train option being my best bet especially since I failed at successfully constructing that guillotine out of the trunk of my car.
After waiting till the wind got harder and the crowd tripled I suited up and headed out. There were about four peaks working with a few sneakers thrown in. On the beach there were three telephotos and a video? I looked around. There was no one in the lineup worthy of such an entourage and the surf was barely chest high, windy and inconsistent at best. Then I saw Dane suiting up bringing things into perspective. Has the surf been that bad this season that photographers have gotten so desperate they need to try and sell pictures of Dane groveling? I guess so. He did his usual half hour of Emma.
I jumped in and the water was freezing. If it was 58 I would say it was warm. I had a 4/3 and booties on and was cold the entire time making the drive home one of me blasting the heat to get the blood flowing again. I felt like I was in the movie “Top Gun” when all the fighter jets were swarming around Maverick and Goose. There were groms paddling every which way, kooks in front of me, body surfers and even some idiot on an ocean kayak. Apparently some people got lost on their way to Mondos. I got a few forgettable ones that I had to fight tooth and nail for. Then a set wave slipped past the pack and swung wide right to me. I dropped in, it sucked up and I had a solid stand up tube, came out clean.
My initial instinct was to claim it so that if one of the photogs managed to shot it the sequence would end well. Then I realized that they were all focused on Dane and these two groms who were ripping. As I was paddling back out this random dude threw a shaka at me and I was glad to share that little bit of stoke on an otherwise uninspiring day with him. After that it was more terrible ones and more paddle battles, near collisions and tons of frustration. Finally I got my 20 wave quota and was just looking for that one more.
Of course if you surf this almost always means the ocean is going to go flat and that the good wave wont come. You have to end on a good on otherwise your whole day is going to be shit. That was exactly what happen. I got dropped in on twice. Blew three late take offs. Then finally a good left came my way. I was about to drop into when this little grom maybe 12 paddled me and closed out the section on me. Normally I let these instances go, but everyone hits their breaking point and this was mine.
I paddled up to the poor unsuspecting grom and looked him right in the eye “Did you think I was not going to catch it?”. He responded “No”. “Then why the fuck did you paddle me then?” I replied and I splashed water in his face, the most degrading thing one surfer can do to another in a lineup confrontation and usually when a fight breaks out. “You know me, I surf with you all the time and you know I don’t miss the waves I paddle for. Don’t paddle me! I don’t paddle you!” He had a stunned look on his face. So did I.
I caught the very next wave and went in disgusted with myself for such behavior. The kid made a common mistake and he was after all a kid, but I was over it. Then again when I was a kid I would not have even thought about paddling a guy who had been surfing longer then I was alive. The pecking order in today’s lineups has really fallen apart, but that is a blog for another day. Mostly I was angry at myself cause I ruined this little kid’s stoke for the day and probably put some fear into him about lineup etiquette making him over cautious for a while.
Five days ago I was out having a ball with my fellow surfers, hooting and hollering. Everyone was stoked and life was great. Today I wished I had a water proof uzi so I could have mowed down 3/4’s of the lineup. When you want to know why surfing ruined my life just mull that over for a while. Surfing sucks don’t try it.
Life is just better in the barrel. This is a very old shot, but a great one.
“Whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!” I screamed as I cruised through a solid over head draining barrel coming out dry hair. It was one of the many I had gotten. My buddy Brennan shouted back watching the whole thing go down from the bank he was sitting on. I came off the back shook the water off my hair and paddled over to Brennan. “Its all time out here man” I said. “I knew you were going to say something like that” he replied smiling. “You know Brennan for me I would take a day of surfing like this over a night of sex with the hottest woman in the world” as I laughed in naivete jubilee.
Brennan opened his mouth to say something but before he could I was already paddling down the beach positioning for my next wave another kegger followed by a giant full rotation frontside ally-oop stuck cleanly to the gaping mouths of the two kids surfing the peak adjacent. Everyone had this shit eating grin on their faces out there. Why shouldn’t we? After all it was solid 4-6+ft clean, hucking tubes and only six of us out there sharing eight different perfect peaks.
It was after 12pm too which made no sense at all because the River Mouth always blows out by 10. My boys Brennan and Christian decided last minute to high tail it down to the Barb from SF for a stag romp chuck full of Lisanity and they definitely got what they bargained for. We went to some janky Montecito garage sale where I scored a pair of binoculars and a copy of Camus’ The Stranger, one of my favorite short stories, and a vintage 1960’s California surf guide for 11 dollars. Brennan picked up this crazy shirt with people dancing on it. Christian scored some multi use pocket tool he kept bragging about.
Prior to that we had a good old fun night of drunken debauchery at the Wild Cat upon their arrival. At that moment sitting there in the line up thanking the stars for allowing me to have such a great session nothing else mattered. My mind was clear and all I could think about was my next wave and how much fun I was having. How much fun everyone was having. Surfing can be such a drag with bad conditions, excessive crowds etc, so much that it begins to cloud the reason why you do it in the first place. Then a session like this happens and everyone out there is super stoked hooting and hollering like groms again.
I did not know anyone out there with me besides Brennan and I was as stoked to watch the other guys get amazing rides as much as getting them myself. Everyone was just laughing and talking and having a gay old time. Add a crowd of around 60 guys and less then stellar conditions and it would have been a totally different story. Instead of stoked on one another we would have been grumbling, giving dirty looks, trying to be intimidating all because that guy sitting next to you, your brother may get the next set wave you had been waiting for the last half hour.
Unfortunately in our highly urbanized population sprawled southern California society the latter and not the former is the case more times then not. It begins to wear you down. I am not going to lie the world around me, “the real world” not Lisanti Land has been starting to take a serious toll on my psyche as of late. Things didn’t work out at my new job. My roommate Danny whom I really was starting to be very pleased with living here let me know he is moving. My finances are in less then great shape as well at the moment. Even my tireless quest to find love again has all amounted to more stress then I ever like to have.
By the weekend I was worn down. I had not had a fun surf in nearly a week either which did not help things any. Already in great spirits thanks to the arrival of my friends the surf was just the icing on the cake. It was an amazing beach day as well. It almost never happens that the wind, weather and waves all work together to create a perfect day. I know surfing is all about the waves and conditions but there is something about surfing when the sun is out and people are enjoying the beach that just feels so right.
We were lucky to sneak in about two solid hours of surfing till the wind finally came up and trashed it. I was fine with that cause I had gotten way more then I could have ever expected or hoped for. That is one of the finer things in life, when you are thrown a brief lull in the midst of a terrible storm. I could not have asked for anything more this weekend then to spend it with some of my better friends enjoying every moment. After the surf we got food at my favorite Thai place in Santa Barbara. “Your Place”.
I was pleased since I almost never get to enjoy a meal out anymore. I think the last time I ate at “Your Place” was with Kooky back in March. From there it was home for a little R&R before gaming up for another romp on the town. It was another night that did not disappoint. We talked to some ladies, did some dancing, Brennan found and lost the girl of his dreams. I ran into my old friend Britters who was in town for a wedding and she was always one of my favorite gals to party with back in the day. It was almost like a reunion of sorts for all of us remembering a time a few years ago when our lives were a bit more simple.
Things are constantly moving forward at at such a rapid pace that we lose sight of where we are going and even forget where we have been. Every so often I like to stop and have a look back. I think its hard to remember the direction we are trying to go with out taking a look at where we have been.
In the land of the right there exists at least one goofy foot’s last stand.
This week’s UCB makes a winner out of Mauriello taking a break from giving out lessons in good morals and instead throwing down good UCB topics. He asked I write about a certain little wave that both of us have a spot for in our heart. A surfing spot like none other. One that has teeth, one that has its own certain charm of gnarl in and out of the water, a surfers surf spot, Santa Clara River Mouth in Ventura California. I have decided the best way to explain this place is by giving you a run down of an average summer morning for me.
Summertime
An fun looking morning at the River Mouth
River Mouth (that is what the locals call the break) is located about a 45 minute drive south of my home here in Santa Barbara. On a nautical map it exists a few feet below sea level and sticks out a bit further then most beaches in the area allowing it to pull in swell from all angles and then amplify its intensity thanks to the bottom. In the Late Spring, Summertime and early fall River Mouth goes off courtesy of south swells that sweep down the beach and usually barrel. Even if its not hallow the waves still throw out like a mother fucker. On just the right swell angle the place can almost break like a pseudo left hand point break.
In the summer I have to get up pretty early if I want to score the place without wind. Although Ventura Harbor, where the River Mouth is located is a swell magnet its also a wind magnet. Usually by 10 am the wind will get on it and by noon the surf is completely blown out. River Mouth is not one of those waves that you can surf when its windy. Most of time it gets so messed up getting a ride is impossible.
My first alarm goes off at around 6am. I like to call this alarm my ambitious alarm. It was the time I used be to stoked to get up and surf at when I was really fit and living the surfing lifestyle. These days I hit the fuck you button usually because I am fighting off a hangover from the night before. The next alarm goes off at 7am, but usually I field at least two calls from creditors before who I owe money to since my pro surfing career went up in smoke back in 2008. I mean seriously who would extend a $10,000 credit line to a guy who barely made $20,000 a year? I think if your that stupid you get what is coming to you. My credit rating is fucked for life at this point anyway so I say suck it. Thanks for the wake up call though.
At seven I poke my head out of the covers, but summertime is also fog season meaning more days then not its all grey, damp, cold and nasty out. This makes getting out of bed rather difficult. Usually I crawl back under the covers for a spell till Alfie decides he wants breakfast and is all over me meowing, clawing my face, licking my face, basically letting me know if I don’t get up and feed his ass soon I am going to be his breakfast. Not wanting to be eaten I usually comply by 7:30 unless I’m really hung over and then its every man and beast for themselves. If I am really hung over it means I drank enough to kill most human beings and I feel so sick that I hope Alfie will eat me alive.
By eight I am finally out of bed. I pull out my computer and check the buoy readings to see what the day is going to have in store for me. Driving to River Mouth costs me around $10 in gas round trip so I like to make sure I am actually going to be able to surf. I am not going to give away the readings I look for cause it took me years to figure that out and it is something that has to be earned. If things look appealing to me. I pack my board, suit, booties, fill up my water bottle, grab a banana, brush my teeth then cruise. Usually I hit my boy Ryan up to let him know I am coming if he has yet to get me a surf report.
On the way down I let my ipod shuffle take over. I skip all the slow tunes only stopping at pump up music. As I am coming up the hill past Sharks Cove in Montecito I do the look back of death. Ofcourse it’s flat. It is summertime and there is no way there is enough north west to break the place. It is one of my favorite waves so I can’t help but pretend just for a moment that it could be going off. As I drive by Summerland I check the beachie down there and although too small to surf it is a good indicator of the swell angle. If things look good there I may pick up the pace.
Then when I get to Carpinteria Santa Clause Lane becomes my next indicator. This is more or less for both wind and swell size. If its at least knee high there I know River Mouth will have chest high sets. If things look good there I pick up the pace even harder. By this point I am cruising at 80mph weaving in and out of traffic pretending I am in the movie “Ronin” most likely singing at the top of my lungs to whatever music I am blaring. I have the heat blaring as well cause I hate to be cold before a surf. It just puts a damper on the whole thing.
Nothing like brown water to make you feel safe and healthy and remind me of home.
At this point my boy Ryan has most likely gotten back to me on what’s up. His intel is very important cause I have to make a decision once I am past Rincon and La Conchita if I should exit at Sea Cliffs and go surf Emma Wood or continue on to River Mouth. Rincon and La Conchita are also good indicators as well. By this point I start getting sleepy and have to pinch myself, pull leg hair, pluck eye brows, whatever it takes to not fall asleep behind the wheel ending up flipped in a ditch somewhere.
Rincon can be a good indicator too if the left up top is breaking. From there I drive past Stanley’s, Hobsons, Trailers, Father John’s and Pitas. There are usually terrible little waves along all these spots that come winter can be all time. Pitas actually does get south swell it just does not break well on them. From there I pass the palm tree nursery before getting sight of both the Gold Coast and Emma Wood. This is the moment of truth right here. If there are waves at Gold Coast then there are definitely waves at River Mouth.
I drive past Emma Wood and laugh at the near thirty guy crowd. South of Emma is Ventura Campgrounds or the top of the point at Cstreet. Depending on how this spot looks I can pretty much tell with absolute certainty if I am going to score. I always make sure to flip off Cstreet on the way by cause I hate that wave. I get through the town of Ventura and the stub jetties of the state beaches and Pierpont come into view and always entice me with their siren song of waves that always look good from far but are far from good.
Finally I exit off the 101 and work my way to the Harbor at this point whatever direction those flags are blowing will make or break my morning. If they are slack then its going to be glassy. Usually they are blowing north west. I pull into the Harbor and drive north toward the dunes. I park in front of the highest dunes that are located halfway between New Jetty and the Surfers Knoll. From up there I can see all the breaks of Ventura harbor and decide where I want to surf.
My surf check dune.
This dune and I have developed a very personal relationship over the years. It has seen me jump for joy, cower in fear, vomit from the night before, drop to my knees and cry back when Adrienne and I first broke up. I have taken many of pisses up there. There is five years worth of decomposing banana peels up there because I eat my banana while checking the surf. I have thrown a few angry tantrums up there. Like I said its my dune. I once whipped Mauriello really hard with a long dune grass vine and got all mad about it. In consolation I whipped myself just as hard and he was right it hurt like hell. I think we both had welts from the whipping for a week or so.
This mornings banana discard.
Looking North you have New Jetty and the far big jetty is South Jetty a wedgey right that almost never breaks and when it does is super hard to surf. New Jetty is one of my favorite waves in the area but unfortunately due to poor sand distribution it has been a deep hole all season.
This is looking south from the dunes. The closest wave is called Surfers Knoll which can be really fun in the late winter early spring, but usually too washy in the summer. Past that is the River Mouth sand bars which stretch about a mile or so south till you get to McGrath State Beach.
If I decide I am surfing River Mouth I repark my car either in the Knoll lot if it is a week day and uncrowded or in the marina lot across the street if I am looking to be low pro and stealth. The funny thing about parking in the marina lot is that there are all these no beach parking signs, but everyone parks there any way and they are not “strictly enforced”. I also like to park in the Marina lot cause there are less crack heads, meth heads, bums and heroin addicts hanging around there. My old photographer Dave and I once saw the cops come arrest this crack head in the Knoll lot.
It was pretty funny. The dude broke free and took off to the bath room and flushed his stash. When he came out there were six cops guns drawn. Then they took him down with very excessive force. He made some really strange grunt like squeal when then tackled him to the pavement then bashed his head. There are robberies in the knoll lot at least once a week if not more. I just try and stay out of that parking lot. I have been robbed three times there. It has gotten to the point where I have hallowed out a spot underneath my driver seat where I stash my phone, Ipod and money. Its not quite north shore bad where you have to leave your windows down and your car open so they wont get smashed, but there is for sure a large number of degenerates who coagulate in that vicinity.
“Strictly Enforced” ha, the harbor patrol is too busy busting crack heads to worry about parking issues.
There are always sketchy things going on in the parking lot and in the marsh reeds that line the river mouth. From what I have been told there is pretty much an entire bum civilization back there who feed off all the dead marine life and sea birds that constantly line the beach. I literally saw five dead birds there today. Four pelicans and duck. Last year there were tons of dead seals all over the beach and I once saw a dead dolphin as well. All the currents flow towards that place and the water quality is far from ideal.
Bum food…another one bites the dust…
Usually I surf a section of sand bars called the Reeds just before the actual river mouth. I always seem to get my best waves there and its easy to line yourself up because you either sit on the north, south or middle of the reeds. It is also a bit of a hike from the parking lot and most don’t bother to walk past the first few sand bars.
This is the reeds I like to line up with. Behind those reeds is Bumville.
Sometimes the banks further south in front of the River Mouth can be better on long period swell. If your willing to walk that far you can be sure to beat most of the crowd.
Hmmm whats that in the far left corner you ask? Let me answer: A power plant and an oil field. Oxnard is a beautiful place.
The Tar
The 805 is constantly riddled with an abundance of tar that naturally and most likely not so naturally courtesy of all the oil rigs seeps up from the ocean floor, coagulates into balls and finds its way to the beaches. River Mouth is one of those beaches that is especially bad. Once on the beach the tar heats up from the sun and becomes a gooey mess just waiting for you to step in it. I have giant tar stains on just about everything I own. My boards are constantly riddled with the brown mess. As a matter of fact I stepped in a nice ball of tar yesterday before my session.
Currently my wax is all black and gooey with tar. The only way to get tar off is with baby oil which works fine, but also makes the shower floor slippery as hell. I once went down head over heels nearly hitting my head on the tub faucet. That would be a really shitty way to be found dead naked on the bottom of the tub in a puddle of blood and baby oil. The authorities would with out a doubt claim I went out in a crazy freak masturbation mishap.
Winter Time
In the winter its a whole different ball game out there.
Winter is not really River Mouth’s best season. For the most part the swell direction of the NW’s seem to just come into there as one giant close out as far as the eye can see. The water is freezing, colder then any other spot in the area and there is no one around. Even the bums hunker down for the most part. The only upside to winter is the Off shores. Ventura Harbor really kind of is the start of the flat plain that runs all the way till Mugu and as a result hard offshore wind sweeps across the open space grooming the surf.
You know the winds are going to be good if all you can smell is manure from the fields. Yeah it stinks but the air in the barrel is always nice. On the whole even with the winds it is still very closed out and usually on a swell anywhere from double to triple over head and stacked as far as you can see. If your getting out there you are going to take a serious beating. You will get pitted, but it will most likely just be a big close out tube. This is the place where the term PGCB (perfectly good closed out barrels) was coined. You can read more about that in my “I Heart PGCB’s” blog. It makes for good wide angle barrel photos except for the fact that the current is so bad out there its nearly impossible to stay with your photog. Dave and I had many of frustrating sessions where we were both getting worked super hard and did not get one decent shot out of it.
Usually by late winter some really good sand bars can set up more near the knoll and upper River Mouth. If it is the right swell with the right tide and the wind is offshore you will get some of the best sessions of your life. I have had some really amazing session on such. It can be really frustrating too though if you get there too late. Lots of times those sand bars only turn on for a few hours at best and if you get it at the end of the window you may get one or two amazing ones and then just be back in close out land. The rips are really bad on theses bars as well. You will spend the entire session paddling.
If your diligent and you get first dibs on a good bank you will have it to yourself for maybe a day or two. Once word gets out all of Ventura, Oxnard and Santa Barbara will be there. On the whole these bars only last for a few days anyway before the wind goes bad or too big of a swell comes in and tears it apart. When it happens it can be all time, as good as anyplace. Here is a video of possibly the best the River Mouth has ever been courtesy of just the right swell angle, wind, rain and sand. It happened in 2005. I was lucky enough to get two days of this cause I just happened to be here picking up some boards from Jason Feist over at J7 surfboards.
The reality of the winter is more times then not its nothing more then a big close out and if I am going to drive that far I am most likely going to go surf Hollywood or Oxnard Shores where the banks are a bit better that time of year. The water quality is very poor in winter due to all the rain run off.
Opening the Mouth
The really cool thing about River Mouth is the fact that it is one of the few unfortified river mouths in a heavily populated area. There are no jetties or controls on it of any kind. The water flows under the sand naturally allowing for tons of great banks to get created. On occasion as a result of heavy rain fall it will burst open and when it does great sand can be created. That does not always happen. Sometimes it opens and throws out too much sand ruining the spot for weeks. If it opens and there is not a good swell direction or bad wind the bars wont form good. This year we got screwed double. First the mouth opened up way too far to the south and second when they dredged the harbor, which they do every year the sand from that got badly dispersed completely ruining New Jetty for the entire spring, summer and most likely fall season.
Forget about water quality when it opens. I have had so many bad sinus infections, diarrhea, fevers and other complications as a direct result of surfing in the black water that is created when it opens. There ends up being dead frogs, fish, birds, tons of trash that all floats out a river that flows for miles inland. The pesticide run off from all the farms is intense. We refer to surfing there during such times as “Brown Town”. Its pretty disgusting. If its on its totally worth the chance of contracting Hepatitis though.
For a while a bunch of locals would get together before a swell and actually dig out the mouth to make good sand. About three years ago Robert from Roberts Surfboards used to rally the troops to dig it out for every good south swell. That was one of the best spring/summer seasons out there ever. Even the fall was sick thanks to all the good sand. I guess the harbor patrol cracked down on it and the last crew to attempt it got arrested and fined. I don’t think there has been a dig out attempt since. In the summer and fall it doesn’t rain so its not going to naturally open.
There you have it, my home away from home Santa Clara River Mouth. I am sure I just pissed off everyone in the 805 for writing this. You know what I don’t give a fuck. I am there nearly everyday all summer long and surf the place in both the good, the bad and the ugly. Its a tough wave to surf. I would not recommend it to beginners, but more moderate to experts. There are usually tough currents and rip tides so if your not a strong paddler/swimmer drowning can be an issue. Its an unprotected beach and out at the River Mouth there is not many people around so getting you medical help will take longer then most spots.
The wave itself is very heavy and even on a two foot day can pack a punch. I have broken six boards there, creased a handful more and taken some heavy wipe outs. It is sharky too as any river mouth can be. Although I have never had an encounter I have heard stories and most of the larger marine mammals that wash up dead on the beach have giant bites taken out from them. Half seals are not uncommon to see. The water is murky thus confusing the men in grey suits.
River Mouth is an acquired taste suited to the elite hard core surfer. If your dedicated you will score. If you read this and are stoked to come down for a surf good on ya. I will gladly hoot you into a wave. Please show respect and don’t pull up with a van full of dudes like a certain Santa Barbara surf school has been doing. At Santa Clara the rule of two is in full effect. Follow the code and I will be more then stoked to get tubed with you.
The lay of the land just to give you an idea of what we are talking about. I took this during a solid south swell last Summer 2011.
This is Christy’s my favorite janky luncheonette in Ventura located right across the street from the River Mouth parking lot. This place is rad all the tables have collages of pictures of their customers under glass. Kooky and I wanted to go put a picture of us under the glass. I still may. Waitresses are surly, customers strange and food incredible. I have ended more then one session there. Yum!
Its not all sunshine and roses out here. If you don’t like mornings then this is what you will be greeted with usually by 11am everyday if not earlier.
This is two trees in Ventura California and where I took that aerial photo of River Mouth. I had been surfing there for years looking back a these trees and always wanted to go up there. Finally I did some exploring and found my way up to them. Its really cool cause from that vantage you can see all the way to Pt.Mugu in the south and Emma Wood in the North. I met some old guy the last time I was there and he said the trees were planted in the late 1800’s so Mariners could find the way to the harbor. Its really cool there and a nice hike. I do it regularly.
Cant afford Christy’s no worries there is plenty of good eating up and down the beach. Looks like someone has already been gnawing on this guy though. Don’t fret I’m sure there are plenty of other dead animals with in striking distance of this unfortunate.
Surfing Ruined My Life 