The sound of big white knuckles knocking on a window awoke me. I peeled my face from my pillow and peered out the side window of the van, which faced west toward the water. It was dark. Not even the slightest sign of sun. Chris was standing outside the van. "You awake," he hollered. "Kinda sorta," I said from inside my sleeping bag. "Gimme a few minutes and I'll be good to go." We had made arrangements to meet Mike, also known as Gnar Gnar, at the Carl's Jr. near the trail to Trestles... at 5am. Mike is a math teacher and this was a weekday. Maybe a Monday. So we had a small slice of time to shoot something before Mr.Black had to teach trigonometry. I slipped into a pair of pants, pulled on a wool sweater, a brimmed hat, flip-flops and climbed outta the van. We loaded the truck with camera equipment and headed toward the hamburger stand.
You'd think that a mid-week(?) morning would be kinda quiet, maybe ten or twelve people. Wrong. This is Southern California, kid. Everyone is waiting for waves. Eager and up early. We parked behind a line of cars and unpacked. Mike drove past in the Midnight Creeper, parked and pulled out his pig. We hiked the trail together, talking about his board the entire time. A blue panel pig with no name, Mike's board is a mystery. Matt Calvani and Jim Phillips both ran their hands along the rails and couldn't come up with anything. Some kind of secret. When we walked beneath the train trestle and over a sand dune to see the surf, we were greeted by wind swept waves that stood up, fluttered and fell - rolling right with a great deal of gumption. It was glorious. We filmed and photographed while Mike mined some stoke. A damn fine way to spend a weekday. Follow the link for more photos.
