Endless Session, Day 303: Liquid Playground
Liquid playground on Day 303. Photo by David Olive
Last week, I wrote a little about a stoke meter, and I feel like I should elaborate a little bit. It’s days like today that have one’s stoke meter bursting at the lid.
We were on the road to my liquid playground. My favorite surf spot in the world, my place of refuge that protected me from the gnarliest of El Niño swells, my training ground, my longboard hog heaven. The playful waves of Doheny State Beach, after a long winter of powerful northwest swells (which don’t generally wrap into the south facing beach) are finally breathing.
Me and Boris, a regular at the Hermosa Pier, journeyed South for his Doho introduction, and my re-introduction after months of not having basked in it’s ataractic beaches. Our friend and surf guru Frank was MIA, just getting home from San Francisco with a flu that got the best of him, so the gang of 3, whittled to 2, set off in search of some play. Pulling off the 5, we puttered down the hill and slowed at the narrow segment where you can see the waves breaking from the road, the glimpse generating a bit of bouncing in our seats. We zipped into the spot, and getting out of the car I heard a “No Way!” thrown in my direction. I expected to spin and face a friendly or not-so-friendly local, but eyes landed on Mikey Overstreet, who I had just seen a few days prior in Manhattan Beach’s El Porto. It’s funny how in the surfing world, even 65 miles away at less popular breaks, you bump into hometown faces.
Boris, wanting to take in the new beach and surroundings, insisted on a quick surf check before plunging in, and nearly jumping out of my bones with the itch to get in the water, I reluctantly joined. Just as forecasted; soft, rolling chest high peelers waiting to be danced upon. We quickly suited and joined Mike at Boneyards, rightfully named – the rockiest of the 3 main peaks at Doheny.
Photo by David Olive
Surrounded by companions, I was having half-present conversations, and losing myself in the waves peaking over the iconic Boneyards rock, coming towards the small group with a gently right angled slope, lines connecting to the inside for a twice as long ride (and a twice as long paddle back out). Bouncing around for the full Doho experience, I left Boris to practice at The Yard while I paddled to middles, and seeing the familiar face and iconic 10 foot green log of Mike Frank’s, was quickly pulled in by board then hand by Doheny’s keeper to a deep, warm embrace in the antithetically chilly ocean. TJ Cruz was drifting about on his big purple board, and after a few rides at middles with the gang, a coffee and apple break was necessary. Getting out, I thought I had been in the water for an hour and a half tops. Time had never flown by that fast. It had been nearly four hours.
After seeing my water woman compadre Paula and shooting the breeze with David Olive, the other Keeper of Doheny, I spent two more hours in the water and nearly collapsed on the sand on the way out, tripping over the remnants of the old asphalt parking lot that used to creep right up to the break. And my stoke meter after a full morning at my favorite place in the whole world with a chest-head high south swell? Overflowing.
Rob, TJ, Mike Frank, and Morgan. Photo by David Olive