Counter Point (Punta Roca, Pt. 1)

Punta Roca is a right-hand point break that can deliver long, spoke-like bombs that explode over a shoreline of cobblestones and jagged lava rocks. Along the 400-yard walk to the point, you pass a wall sprayed with local graffiti (behind which lies an ominous graveyard) and tiptoe through debris scattered among the wobbly stones. When you finally reach the jumpoff spot, you get a court-side view of the wave, which at times seems to be breaking right on the boulders. On a good day, the sight of the swells lining up and falling like dominoes — precisely spaced with razor-sharp edges — is nothing short of "perfecto."

Perfecto. That's what our guide Joaquin called it over the last couple days of our El Salvador trip, when the long-awaited swell finally started filling in. The first time we surfed it was Friday morning. The photo on top is my first wave, on a board I'd never ridden, after having just been thrown backwards across the rocks on my shaky entry. The sun hadn't even risen yet. It was 6am.

The reason we were out so early was because when this place works, it gets crowded fast. As you can imagine, the local surfers and bodyboarders aren't so fond of alien invasions, as is the case with any other world-class wave. Joaquin briefed us the night before, drawing a map on his hand: "The main peak is here," he said, pointing to a spot near his fingertip, "but we'll be sitting here." He tapped a spot closer to his palm. "Anyway, if you sit out there and you don't know this wave at low tide, you won't make the section and you WILL end up on the rocks."

So we followed his directions carefully the next day: how to time the entry (kind of), where to be, where not to be. For the first hour, we were among only 5 other surfers and our trio got quite a few waves. It was only a matter of time before the number of surfers doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled. And the locals did what locals do anywhere: they paddled around the new faces and got any waves they wanted. And we behaved ourselves, sat where we were told, and got some wide-swinging rights that felt as if there were 10,000 horses sprinting shoulder-to-shoulder behind the 8-foot green faces.

One of our boards was snapped like a toothpick, but we all paddled in three hours later with good rides under our belts and smiles on our faces. The next day we weren't so lucky.

GREETINGS FROM EL SALVADOR

We´ve been in Las Flores and La Libertad for the past six days. Lots of fun right point breaks everywhere. Big swell is supposed to arrive tomorrow. Much more to come...

WISH YOU WERE HERE...
(But maybe not in the lineup)

Faraway, So Close

Our boat guy, "Freddy," loved taking pictures with my telephoto and it turned out that he had a really good eye. It didn't hurt that he surfed this area for eight years and knew the waves like the back of his hand. He claims that he gave up surfing five years ago because he "had enough waves." With consistency and perfect shape like the waves we've been getting, I could almost believe him.

Here's Freddy...

Priceless...

It took some time and effort (and a little extra dinero) but we finally scored a nice day at this Mexican point on Saturday... Mellow takeoffs, glassy conditions, hollow sections inside, and, best of all, all by our selves for two hours....

Keep the Tip: How to Turn Like a Sissy

After reading a few Surfer magazines that give detailed instructions on how to do things like boost airs and disengage the fins for tail-slide hacks (which always lose me after the first sentence), I was inspired to do my own version of "tips," Sissyfish style.

1. Chum has actually found a wave to himself, despite the fact that there are 15 guys going after the inside stuff. He's trying to compose himself, keeping his hands below his shoulders and looking ahead to see if this small peeler is indeed going to have a shoulder of its own. He wonders if that Chivas on the rocks last night was such a good idea after two margaritas.

2. Realizing that he'd better stop going straight, he applies a wee bit of pressure to the toe side of his back foot, almost falling over in the process. To regain his balance, he drags his left hand in the face of the wave, which gives the impression (for one frame) that he knows what he's doing.

3. The bottom turn has actually projected our hero a little farther away from the "critical section" than he'd like, so he starts to do a cutback, or at least what he thinks is a fin-humming cutback, pointing with his lead hand where he'd like to go: back to the swim-up bar at the hotel.

4. Notice how Chum has crouched a bit lower here. That's it: the extent of his flexibility. He is unable to get his ass any closer to the board or his knees any nearer to his chest. Doing so would surely pop a hammy, so he counterbalances with both his arms. But, helloooo? What's that coming off the wave behind him? Can anyone say "schralp?" Thank God nobody was back there or they may have been blinded by the spray.

5. Economy of movement is what this next part is all about. Chum hasn't changed his body position at all but somehow has faded back into the mushy pocket. Note how he's completely focused on the next sloping shoulder he's about to destroy.

6. I believe the old Aussie Roo Shampoo bottles said it best: Rinse and repeat, mates.

Put some Roo in your Doo and stay tuned for the next "Keep the Tip" installment, when Chum shows you how to bail your board with style on a closeout section.

My Wife Caught Me...

...Doing absolutely nothing on this big, perfect left! She showed up with "El Nino" strapped to her chest, Baby-Bjorn-and-John style, snapped five shots (which were only from the second half of the wave, when she realized it was me), concluded that the blazing sun would turn our son into a fried camaron, and left five minutes later.

In my own defense (if anybody is wondering why I'm not throwing buckets or even thimbles off the back of this screamer): I had forgotten how fast my quad goes when slotted on a glassy wall. I'm not going to lie to you, I was hanging on for dear life and my knees were rattling like an epileptic Elvis Presley. Oh, that and the fact that I really don't know how to hit the lip without ending up somewhere behind the wave or headfirst in the trough... It was fun though. About 100 yards of racetrack that had my heart pumping out of my chest from the late drop to the nerve-racked kickout near the sand.

I can tell you this: I wish I had brought my new 6'7 down for waves like these. Not only is it tons more stable, but it seems to move in a slightly more methodical way on steep faces. I've only tested it one time, though.

Oh, and for my chums up in Oregon that think I never go backside, I caught a couple rights as well that were actually a little smaller and for some reason easier to turn on. Wish you were here.

As a side note, this local sponger I've been surfing with the past couple days said today was the best he's ever seen this spot. I guess I kind of am a bit of a swell magnet...

A Year in Sissyland

December 06
I have to start my year with a trip to mainland Mexico in December. I know it's not technically this year, but since 12/07 was a bust, I'm going to count this shot taken by my wife of a set wave at La Lancha among my greatest moments between Decembers.

January 07
It snowed so much last January that I white-knuckled the whole drive over the coastal range. The road was a sheet of ice, and we pushed forward, finally stopping in Cannon Beach (not being able to drive south to PC until the roads warmed up the next morning). I snapped this shot from the snowy beach the next day.

February 07
This was one of those sessions where, for some reason, there was nobody out midday at a very well known break. It was Sunday and I remember wondering if the Superbowl was on. Just three friends in the rain, sunbreaks, decent waves, and a rainbow to boot. Let the gay pride cracks rip.

March 07
Same place as the above drawing, except much bigger. We were surfing a hollow grinder along the shore all day and when we paddled in, noticed that the outer bar had started firing. Again... not too many dudes out, for some reason.

April 07
This was a drawing from a great day where I skied (for the first time in my life) paddled a river, and surfed in the same day. We called the water-fueled marathon "Spring Runoff" and documented it on film for the new outdoor apparel company Nau. It was really cool to teach somebody to surf who had taught me how not to be a "gaper" earlier in the day.

May 07
Ah. My little jewel. The Mandala Winged-D 2+1. When I ordered it I asked Manny to make something that could handle bigger, steeper waves than my 5'8 quad. He sold me on the design when he said, "People may think this board looks funny as you're walking down the beach, but you'll have the last laugh when you take off way outside spray them from 50 feet away."

June 07
I was cruising through my blogroll when I made my usual stop at Surfy Surfy. It was there that I found out Sissyfish had been featured in an article in my favorite magazine The Surfer's Journal (thanks for the subscription Mom and Dad!). JP, who wrote the piece, wondered in the article if I'd ever score. I promptly emailed him and told him that by including me in the illustrious mag, he had ensured that I did. I was psyched.

July 07
Nicaragua. The most challenging surf trip I've ever been on. The powerful waves there claimed two of my boards very quickly (including the aforementioned Mandala), leaving me to paddle into some serious surf on my trusty little fish. This pic is of one of those "oh shit" moments that makes for good bar story.

August 07
After a few weeks of small swell, a group of friends were reunited for a session in Pacific City. The waves were great: peaks everywhere, sun shining. We surfed until the sun went down and I took this picture of a moonlit sea that whispered of a great autumn to come.

September 07
There's a popular break in our neck of the woods that "core" surfers just love to hate. I learned to surf there, and it has remained one of my favorite spots. Maybe it has something to do with the long lefts that roll through midweek in the autumn.

October 07
Surfing with friends. That's what this blog is really all about. This fall we seemed to get some of the biggest, cleanest waves of any season since I started four years ago. It's always great to share those moments with your best chums.

November 07
My second to last surf session of the year was a macking day at Smuggler's Cove where I hesitated to even attempt the paddle through the shorebreak. When I finally did, I was rewarded with some of my biggest waves there. I shot this as I packed up to leave.

December 07
Nico dropped into our lives in November, and I spent the whole month of December getting to know the little feller. I haven't seen the ocean since his arrival, and I can't say that I've had much time to miss it. More challenging than any wave, he's my greatest treasure... but I can't wait to go searching for treasures again in the sea!



Animal Collective - Peacebone

Gimme Shelter

For some reason, I felt a bit desperate on Sunday. I keep thinking that every session could be my last for a while. The baby could come any day (we're 3 weeks away now) and because many of the breaks I surf are out of phone range, I worry that I'll miss a call saying the water's broken.

So Sunday felt a little strange; the water was choppier than I would have liked and I couldn't seem to position myself on the shifty peaks. Every once in a while a speedy left would roll through way outside to the south, so that's where we ended up, away from the crowd that battled for a more consistent (but poorly shaped) right. After more than an hour, I'd only snagged a couple sloppy waves and was starting to get frustrated. My internal clock was ticking.

Finally, OS, Rye and I decided to paddle far outside and wait for the next big left that would roll through. Bobbing around out there, we commented that getting on one of those rifling set waves would make the session. So we waited. We thought we were too far out, then we got caught inside. Closeouts shut down across the cove. The tide went out. Rye grabbed one that looked pretty good. More time passed.

Then, finally, a set wave approached that showed potential. I paddled hard for it, made a late (and somewhat sketchy) drop, set my left rail, then burned along, taking a high line. It felt good. About halfway though the ride, I saw a guy paddle onto the shoulder and drop in. "Hey!" I yelled, "Douche!" The obvious tunnel vision of a newbie. He jumped off and I avoided his board, pumping back up the face.

I ended up about halfway across the beach, so I hoofed it back down to the rip on the south side to see if I could grab another. You know what? I did.

The photo above is kind of weird. I was on my way in after my last wave of the day, just bellying on some whitewater, and the wave just smoothed out and reformed. So I popped up, did a quick little turn, and noticed that it was going to pitch a bit so I tucked into the little closeout. I guess I'm trying to extract as much nectar from the session as possible. Rye had gone in and was playing with my camera on the beach. OS is on the left with a new Black Beauty under his arm.

Ah, precious moments.

Rolling Stones - Gimme Shelter

Shades of Nicaragua

Nicaragua is an amazingly colorful country. We took a lot of pictures between surf sessions. Dogs, crabs, pasture baseball games, kids fishing in their underwear. A trip to Granada during one of the lulls provided so much inspiration. The colonial city reminds me of how Havana must be: old open air markets on the streets, rusty bikes and old cars, Cuban cigars, and no matter how shanty the storefront, a layer of bright paint would provide a festive feeling that belies the country's current economic struggles. The rolling blackouts seemed to get longer in the days before we left. Thanks to my wife for the pics, who has an amazing eye, and to Tom of ptfotos.net for the unforgettable sunset on this page and the action photos from my previous posts.