Surfers Who Blog

That's what we are. We're people who surf and then write about it. We tell you the good, the bad and the ugly. We tell you about our boards. We tell you about our families. More than anything else, we tell you about our surf sessions.

Yesterday I met up with Alan_M, Clayfin and Slowpolk at what they've acknowledged is a secret spot in the O.C. What they didn't say—and what I will say—is it was one hell of a secret spot to gain access to. By the time you drop the right name, find someone in the know with a key to the gate and finish the 20 minute hike to the break, you're thinking the wave couldn't possibly be worth all of that work. Well, it was. That's why the place is such a secret. It might have been flat everywhere else on Friday. It wasn't flat here. Granted, it wasn't big either. There were still waves to be surfed, waves with shape!!! It seemed that it took all four of us coming together to make this session. Alan and Slowpolk knew which name to drop. I knew someone who knew someone with a key. Clayfin, knowing there wasn't a marked trail to the spot, was able to find out the best way to reach the break once we were behind locked gates. It was work, but it was worth it.

Okay, did you fall for that? If you did, shame on you!!! What's funny is I know there were people chomping at the bit as they read this, wondering how to get the four of us to help them gain access. Good luck with that! As it turns out, the four of us met at a not-so-off-the-beaten-path break which happened not to be overly crowded because there was little to no swell in the water. There! Do you feel better now that you know it was flat for us too?

It's kind of strange to finally meet people you've been internetically—new word that I just made up—connected to for years. In fact, that first face-to-face greeting is somewhat awkward. You're thinking, "I know you. Well, I kind of know you. Hmm, do I know you?" I think it's the fact that there's no immediate recognition of the face. I know everyone else by their writing styles and their self-admitted surfing styles. But it didn't take long for me to calm down and be myself. The first thing I did was follow the lead of Alan and Slow. They were going leashless. It's not my favorite thing to do at a break with rocks, but when in Rome. . . . Clayfin paddled out a little later. He was sans leash as well. It was pretty damn small out there. Frankly, that's perfect. It gave us all a chance to get to know one another. I don't know any surfer who can hold a decent conversation when there are waves to be had. Since there were few waves, we could sit, talk and catch a wave here and there.

These guys are great. Each and every one of them is a good surfer. Even though the waves were small, I enjoyed myself. I was nervous about going leashless, but I only swam twice—once after a failed attempt at walking and once when I was feeling too proud of myself for hanging onto my board, only to have the next wave assault me from behind and tear the board from my hands. Of the four of us, Alan M is probably the most astute when it comes to reading and finding the waves. He's also the one who got ghost as the water got crowded; I thought about joining him but was too lazy to paddle over to his spot. Clayfin snagged the wave of the day, a nice right that went on for yards (and that's saying something given the conditions yesterday). Slow, I hate to say, is a liar. That brotha can surf. Period. Don't believe what he writes in his blog. He is not out in the water floundering. He's out there catching waves and surfing backwards. We were out there for awhile before a guy paddled up to me and greeted me by name. Then he identified himself: Puttzle!. Then there were five surf bloggers in the water. It was good to see him again. But before we could talk story with him, he was gone. He didn't stay out long. Still, I'm glad we got a chance to see him out there.

I'll post some pictures later. Pray for swell!