The waves have arrived.
Like every other day, my brain woke up before my alarm clock, this time set a bit earlier than usual – 5:45 instead of the 6:30 a.m. norm. My room was immediately lit up by Surfline, which had my direct attention, checking weather, wave height, wind, and finding something manageable for me and my 9’6 longboard in this inclement weather. Having a general idea of where I needed to be, I packed essentials in my shredmobile (that I just got back from the mechanic last night – $1,500 later) and headed down to peruse the torrential South Bay beaches. A well known spot in Redondo looked doable, but a road trip was itching at my skin, and after a coffee and watching the breakers roll in near Veterans Park, I (quite literally) sped south to beat the rain and thunder.
While jamming out to reggae, hip hop, punk, and the occasional Justin Bieber song (don’t judge me, his new album is ever so catchy) I witnessed yet another incredible sunrise that had the sky in shades of pink and black, with dark clouds off in the distance looking like magnificent mountain ranges. I decided to first stop and check Doheny, one of my all-time favorite surf spots, even though I knew the water quality would be far below dismal after the rain, being on a small river-mouth and next to a harbor. Walking down the beach, I saw nearly perfect, rider-less waves rolling through, and I sat for a while wondering if I should brave the slosh of bacteria or continue south to another potentially cleaner spot that might house me and my longboard. The still leaves started swirling violently as I sat, and the wind crept in out of a calm nowhere. I decided it was now or never and went for it, people walking their sweater-dressed dogs looking at me funny as I walked down the beach in my ocean sweater (wetsuit). I knee-paddled into the break to distance myself from the refuse as much as I possibly could, surrounded by palm fronds, sticks, leaves, and trash. I caught two short waves and one incredibly long one, being patient and not trying excessive maneuvers as to not fall in the sludge. I rode that wave into shore, washed my face off in the water fountain, and as soon as I took off my wetsuit doused myself in leftover arrowhead to try and prevent any sickness from prevailing.
I like solo road trips because I can belt out in song and dance without anyone looking at me like I’m an idiot (except the cars next to me). I jammed out on the way home and before I got to my Hermosa destination stopped to gaze at El Porto in all of it’s glory. Even having living there for a while, I had never seen waves that massive grace the beach. It was quite a sight, and the swell is still building
