This isn’t the Los Angeles I signed up for, but I’m not complaining. I was heavier than usual following Thanksgiving with the in-laws as we drove across the Valley through the canyon ending up at a perfectly mellow right point break.
It sprinkled on and off throughout the morning, but a steady rain began to fall as I put my wetsuit on. We parked in the lot. It cost $8. All the locals park along the Pacific Coast Highway and pay nothing. You surf and you learn.
Two guys my parents age smoked pot inside their red van, which had multiple “FTW” stickers along its side. They were waiting out the rain before they could give the surf a proper check. In Los Angeles this can often times mean smoking 2 cigarettes in a pair of Uggs while the perfectly formed little waves continue to break while you finish smoking 2 cigarettes.
Point breaks are the best and the worst. There’s no real paddle out, but the crowd just hangs in one spot.
The crowd that day was great. Fat dudes with earnings on longboards and decent hipsters with long hair and mustaches who more than likely have blogs and spend their time drinking IPA or Mexican beer as they blog about surf related things.
I hung on the edge and caught the smaller waves inside before gradually drifting my way into the pack. It would have been better without my kelp harvesting leash on. The kelp cost me 3 waves that day, but it’s better than losing my board and it hitting a fat dude with earnings who would yell at me for bringing such reckless abandon to his mellow beach. And he’d be right, of course.