I have had many request from all of my of my friends that I get off my lazy ass and do a bit more writing. Some wanted horrific tales from the vault of the Lisanti Past, others were looking for recipes, and then some just wanted some new adventure tales. I hope over the coming weeks to make everyone happy and a bit disturbed by the content as usual. I thought I would start with the tale of a recent Lisanti adventure, a common California adventure at that; Chasing a solid south swell.
Summertime in coastal California is not quite what all the songs, pictures, media, movies and television would have you believe. Most of the time the weather is foggy, damp and cold. The ocean cold and windy. The surf, unless you live in San Diego or Orange county is less then amiable. Up here in Santa Barbara unless you have a boat, access to the ranch or a plane ticket to Indo you might as well put your surf board away and take up lawn bowling. Unfortunately for me I have none of the above and left my bocce set at home when I moved from NJ.
If one of you readers wants to send me a bocce kit I promise to drink one for you at the Wild Cat!
What do I do? I fucking get in my car and I drive at least 45 miles a day to surf sub par surf in a frustrating crowd. Wait, isn’t that what the California dream is? Shit folks the California dream ceased to be a dream 60 years ago if it ever really existed. Its more like the California nightmare now. We all know I love to suffer. Actually this season has not been as bad as usual. We had a month of NW wind swell that gave consistent surf and even a few epic days with some south swell thrown in for good measure. Check out the May edition of the Surflog for more on that. In my book there are few things sweeter then a late season NW.
When the Queen looks like this you would have to be crazy to go anyplace else…or would you?
This story begins on May 28th 2013 down near Antarctica. Antarctica?!? WTF! Truth be told that is where most south swells that grace California with their loveliness begin. Of course on the 28th a south swell was the last thing on my mind. I was too busy capitalizing on local wind swell to even notice any action in the south pacific. Then a few days later Surfline.com had a feature on this crazy swell that rocked Tahiti. At that point my attention was grabbed and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would show here. From Tahiti the swell traveled to Hawaii giving the boys on the South Shore some fun ones. Once in Hawaii it was only a couple of days.
By June 6th front runners began to show up. The morning was still a bit down thus I decided to sleep in hoping for some action in the afternoon. Solimar Beach was the spot for me after a great deal of deliberation. This time of year surf is hard to come by and the wrong decision is a fate worse then death. Every wave squandered is a flat day you will be kicking yourself in the near future. I really wanted to utilize this swell to its fullest extent. The reef had some solid rights to be had with a very light crowd. I always seem to surf Solimar on the beginning of large south swell. It is a cool wave that bends around a horse shoe cobble stone reef usually covered by sand. From the beach it always looks pretty mushy which keeps the crowd down. Actually its a pretty fast bowly wave when your on it. It sort of reminds me of Noosa a little bit.
I got a solid session in and felt although deeming it “the best of the worst” a rather fun session. The next morning things really began to get big. Unfortunately for me too big for my usual south swell jaunts in the area. When I went to bed I was dreaming of all time Santa Clara. Instead I was faced with walled close outs and strange wind. I wanted to go to Malibu and most likely should have. I let the fact that it was a Friday and the immense crowds that goes with it keep me at home. Later I would find out that even though the crowd sucked there were still plenty of waves. Once again after lots and lots of checking I found myself settling for the “best of the worst” at Pitas Point. Through my binoculars down the beach it looked like it was firing. After paddling my boy Ryan and I would soon find things to be a bit more sectiony then we would have liked, not to mention very inconsistent.
This the sort of Santa Clara I was dreaming of…
I had always heard these rumors up here that El Capitan, one my favorite right hand point breaks actually will see surf on a large south swell. Apparently it sneaks through the gap between the Santa Cruz and San Miguel Islands. I needed to see if the rumors were true and this swell seemed perfect for that. I got up there a little later then I should have thanks to some chores that needed doing. Afraid I had missed my window I was walking to check it when a stoked older dude parked in front of me yelled “get your board and go dude, its on”. Like that I found myself trotting down the trail. When I emerged from the woods sure enough there were waves! An older guy from Santa Barbara told me once while hanging out in the car park at Manu Bay in Raglan, New Zealand that one can tell a good point from a great point by how it holds its shape no matter what the swell angle.
El Capitan did just that. It was only around chest to head high with a light crowd of local vets and very inconsistent, but my friends it was perfect. I only caught 9 waves that session. 6 out of the 9 were wonderful keepers. I can surf El Cap so well, I guess anyone can cause it is so perfect. It is just one of those waves that makes anyone feel like Kelly Slater on it. That is until you see Kelly Slater surf it… Anyhow it was just one of those magical sessions that make you remember why it was you started surfing in the first place. Later I would hear that the session of the day went down at C street that evening. Fuck it, I hate that wave anyway.
God damn, why do all these swells have to fall on the weekend and a weekend where I had at least two party obligations to fill. A boys night on Friday with Bizarro and my boy Daniel’s going away party, which I was throwing for him at the Wild Cat. As a result morning sessions were completely out of the question. I know some surfers are reading this right now thinking “I can’t believe Lisanti is blowing it like that”, while I see it as a balance between the two worlds I exist in. Balance my friends is everything in life. It only took me 32 years to realize that. Man cannot live by surfing alone.
Saturday I found myself a bit more hung over then I would have liked (still have not figured out that balance thing when it comes to alcohol consumption) causing a very late start. I was still a bit sick to my stomach as I climbed the dunes at New Jetty where I heard the morning was near to all time. There were long lines coming through, but overall things looked a bit soft and still very inconsistent. My boy Pat hit me up that he was in Malibu all morning and was about to go back to surf Leo Carrillo.
I don’t go to Malibu on the weekend, ever! He claimed the crowd was not bad and given I didn’t really have a better option I jumped in the car with him. You know what it was a great call. I got to surf the best Leo I have ever surfed. By Leo standards and a weekend the crowd was not bad at all. It was tough to get a set wave off the old guys and long boarders. That was fine cause I enjoy the inside double ups better anyway, plus the sets were too big and most closing out. I managed to put on a very strong backside performance holding it down for the goofy foot contingent. Fuck, give me a wally lined up right any day. That shit is my bread and butter. Later Pat and I had a look at Hueneme Pier and he was frothing. It looked decent enough. I had to get back to the Barb for Daniel’s party. It went down without a hitch.
By this point I was dead set on a Lower Trestles mission. I had not been there since ’11 and I was thinking Monday would be the day. I texted Trevor and planted the seed in his head. My tires are bald on my car at the moment so the only way I was going to be able to partake in such an ordeal was if I had a driver. Sunday I was in bad shape. I cut down on the party and my body has totally lost its tolerance to take a beating and keep on. I heard New Jetty was on again that morning. I headed there for low tide. Although very inconsistent there were a handful of decent lefts coming in. I paddled it. There were a few fun ones to be had among the lulls. Later that night I returned home to a text from Trevor that he was in for Lowers.
This is what a Lowers crowd looks like
Monday morning we made the three hour drive south in high spirits. We got there and it was way more crowded then I had hoped for. As a matter of fact I can’t remember ever seeing that many cars parked on the San Clemente side. It was decent Lowers in its own right. The crowd was miserable and sets inconsistent. That is a very bad combination. My stoke was gone and part of me wanted to jump back in the car and just drive another 45 minutes south to Blacks Beach. It was Trevor’s first time and who am I to rob him of a bad surf experience. We paddled. Despite a pack of annoying groms training for nationals next weekend we both found a few keepers.
Who can really hate on an entire day spend on the beach with your bud? I fucking can. I got sun burned. My eyes hurt from all the sun and as of press time my back is sore from carrying all my shit down there, my neck stiff and my fucking knees hurt from too many really bad frontside air reverse attempts cause I suck at surfing. In all seriousness it was a fun day and I am glad I went to remind me why I never go there. At the moment it is flat with not much happening for at least a week. Fiji just got some sick waves for the contest (congrats Kelly on another mind blowing victory) so its only a matter of days before we see the remnants of that swell. For more details on the surf sessions, party or swell visit the June Surflog.
Here’s to the next good South swell and Go Slater for number 12!
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Surfing Ruined My Life 