CALIFORNIA
CRUISIN’ North
Florida Longboard Star Justin Quintal Takes Us Out West For January’s Joel
Tudor
Duct Tape Invitational Presented By Vans By Justin Quintal; Photos by Shawn Parkin
I touch ground in Orange County, CA, on January 8th and
promptly make my way towards baggage claim. As I arrive at the carrousel, I’m surrounded
by the usual suspects, and a short but very round little man expresses his
emotions about how miserable his flight was. “You know the airlines really need
to cater to the needs of people like me… That plane was so hot… How long does
it take for them to unload my goddamned bag?” Gazing over at him, I realize
that the disgruntled man is indeed overheated, as his face is red as a tomato
and beads of sweat line his forehead.
The large crowd of people that surrounds the metal conveyer
belt deteriorates until I find myself nearly alone. I’ve had plenty of bad
experiences with surfboards missing connecting flights, so I nervously wait for
my 9’7” board bag to slide out of the oversize luggage slip. I find a bit of
comfort as I notice the big bronze statue of John Wayne, after whom the airport
is named, staring in my direction, as though no unjustly thing could happen in
the realm of the timeless gaze of this American deity. Eventually, my board
arrives and I’m quickly greeted by my friend and quintessential longboarder
Christian Wach, who’s graciously letting me crash at his house before we drive
up to Santa Cruz for the Joel Tudor Duct Tape Invitational Presented By Vans.
The drive to Christian’s sunny San Clemente home is consumed
with conversation about how stoked we are to be a part of the Duct Tape, and
what a great thing Vans is doing for longboarding. We talk about the specs of our
boards, discuss our expectations for the wave at Steamer Lane, and contemplate
where to surf that afternoon. After a quick pit stop to pick up Christian’s
girlfriend Hannah, we decide to go for a good ol’ fashioned log session at San
Onofre. The waves are about waist-high, super clean, and pretty fun. A swell is
projected to fill in for Central California, so we surf until dark and then
load up in Christian's ’99 Ford Econoline Van for Mexican food and margaritas.
These aren’t just any margaritas, though — they come
in 24-ounce mugs, and I underestimate the strength of my two drinks and find
myself intoxicated much sooner than expected. We catch up and talk more about
surfboards and waves, while Christian tells me about the 5’6” asymmetric fishes
he has made under his own brand, Canvas Surfboards. The boards are blunt-nosed,
with a tail that resembles a pompadour haircut. Set up with two fins and a
squash tail on one side of the stringer, and a keel fin and half-moon tail on
the other, Christian made two boards with opposite setups on either side, one
board better for lefts and the other better for rights. He tells me how the
board really does work, but I’m a little buzzed and I think the board sounds a
little too askew and non-functional to truly “work.” Christian says he would
really like me to try the board out, though, and being relatively liberal about
different shapes, I tell him I’ll give it a go.
The next morning, Christian’s best friend Kameron Brown
meets up with us. We head down to Oceanside to pick up Christian’s new board
that he shaped, glassed, and sanded by hand in two days for the Duct Tape. After
that, we drive to Cardiff to surf with Joel Tudor. Joel heckles us a bit about,
“Waiting until the wind turns onshore to finally head down to San Diego,” but
within 40 minutes we’re in the water. The waves are super fun, and I gain more
confidence on my new 9’6” single-fin pintail Ricky Carroll shaped for me for Steamer Lane.
The next few days, our time is split between surfs at
Cardiff, Lowers, Middles, and San O. We grind on In ‘N’ Out, Mexican food,
homemade whole wheat pizzas, and teriyaki chicken at Asian sensation Super
Bowls during the day, and drink Pacificos at night. The night before we leave,
San Clemente photographer Shawn Parkin comes over with all his gear. Shawn looks
like he’s been backpacking his way through some foreign land, his face adorned
with a very healthy beard that would make any lumberjack envious. His hair is
just as untrimmed, he has a mellow demeanor, and as we become familiar, it’s
soon obvious that when it comes to the California coastline, weather, and swell
patterns, the guy knows what he’s talking about.
At 3:45 a.m. on January 11th, I hear a loud knock and then
“Justin!” The time has come for our eight-hour trek up to Santa Cruz. A combination
of excitement and nerves knowing the contest is only days away, I get moving
relatively quickly. I love road trips; there’s a certain freedom that comes
with loading up and hitting the road. What experience waits around the next
bend? Where will this adventure lead? I would also be going farther north in
California than I had ever been before, and would be staying at the one-of-a-kind
Dream Inn Hotel for three nights with some of the most influential people in my
surfing career. An open bar, a 10-minute walk to Steamer Lane, luxurious
dinners at night, endless breakfasts in the morning… and Vans was picking up
the tab for the whole shebang. If there’s a dream tour for longboarding, the
Joel Tudor Duct Tape Invitational Series is it.
Grizzly Adams, aka Shawn Parkin, shows up around 4:15 a.m., and
10 minutes later we have Christian’s new Toyota Tacoma packed with all the
necessities: surfboards of all sizes and shapes, wetsuits, travel bags, camera
gear, snacks, water, and one iPod Nano. After a brief stop at Surfing Donuts,
we start cranking some tunes and hit the road.
We hit Interstate 5 not long after, and the drive comes
alive. Behind us the sun rises over mountains, and in the distance patches of
snow align hillsides. The landscape is breathtaking, especially the farther
north we head. We drive by farmland and empty groves, stopping here and there
to shoot photos. Christian starts the drive with a solid four-hour haul, then
Shawn backs him up by logging two hours, and within a couple hours of Santa
Cruz I find myself in the driver’s seat. Christian dozes off in the back, and I
begin to tell Shawn stories of Florida and the East Coast, while he shares his
knowledge of all the spots in between San Clemente and Santa Cruz.
An hour into my shift and I’m in the driving zone. You know
the feeling — aware of everything but nothing at the same time. Paying
attention to the road, but unable to recall what a sign you passed 30 seconds
prior said. That’s about when I start descending from the mountains towards the
coast. Used to driving flat and straight on I-95, I’m having fun with the
tighter turns and the dipping and rising of elevations. Then things start to
get more hairy as I turn a bend and notice that the only thing saving me from a
drop-off of thousands of feet is a three-foot tin guardrail. I’m not freaking
out, but it’s obvious I’m not relaxed. Christian is now awake and starts
mocking me in the backseat, his hands in front of his chest gripping an
invisible steering wheel with a frightened look on his face. My co-pilot Shawn is
laughing his beard off next to me.
We pull into Santa Cruz around 1:30 p.m. and head straight
to Steamer Lane for a surf. The waves are small, but the cold water is
refreshing after such a long drive. Christian and I take turns picking off
thigh- to waist-high peelers, and although the waves are clean, the kelp is
terrible, and half the time we hang ten we hit a speed bump and go over the
handlebars. After about two hours of surfing with seals and otters and trying
to pose for the camera, we go in and grab some food. That night, we drink
Tecates and margaritas at Parkin’s friend Sean’s house. We all get drunk, and
Christian and I consume just enough tequila and beer for Sean to convince us
to wake up at 6:00 a.m. the next morning to surf Moss Landing.
The next morning, I hear people stumbling around way too
early. I wake up half hungover and look at my watch — 6:00 a.m. We all
pile into Sean’s vintage VW bus, stop for coffee, and head to the beach. Sean
tells us about a guy who got ate by a great white two years prior at Moss
Landing, also telling us it could be flat so not to get our hopes up. But as soon
as we climb the dunes expecting to see knee-high lappers, we’re pleasantly greeted
with the sight of head-high beachbreak surf… with no one out! Sean has a nine-foot
gun in his living room for surfing Mavericks, so I guess “flat” to him is “best
Florida ever” to me. I put on my wetsuit faster than ever and forget I’m
hungover, because the waves were incredible and we surf and shoot for close to
four hours before finally crawling back onto the beach.
Later that night, everything starts to come together. We
surf The Lane, which is now living up to its true potential with chest- to head-high
grinders and the occasional overhead set. The rest of the Duct Tape group starts
arriving, and we check into our room. The Dream Inn Hotel is rad; the rooms have
a modern/retro dichotomy, with Andy Davis paintings lining the walls and a view
that overlooks the bay at Steamer Lane. Surfers, photographers, Vans bigwigs,
and other unique people are scattered throughout the building and lobby. The
whole scene is less of a circus and more of a freak show, but the energy is
growing and you can feel the party about to go down.
The next day, the waves don’t look so hot, so we roll
through Santa Cruz. The abundance of organic food, independent restaurants, small
businesses, and legalized pot make SC the perfect breeding ground for hippies.
Everywhere we went we saw hippies, with Christian and I unable to hold back
from yelling “Hippppppy!” at every one we saw. Later that day, we free surf
with Alex Knost, Ryan Burch, Harrison Roach, Chris Del Moro, and Mikey DeTemple
while Joel Tudor looks on from the cliff. It felt good to be in the presence of
such phenomenal surfers.
Both days of the Duct Tape Invitational, the waves are about
as good as it gets, with perfect weather to match — chest- to head-high the
first day, with overhead sets the second. Both days were glassy as could be with
lots of kelp, but unfortunately I get put out of the contest early on. Steamer
Lane is a tricky wave, and my downfall is my inability to snag a wave that
would connect all the way through to the cliff. We were surfing on the mushy
mid peak, and although I got some decent set waves, I could not find one that
would connect. Troy Elmore catches a good wave at the beginning of our heat,
and I’m not able to get a back-up score.
It was hard to hold back my frustrations having won
the first two Duct Tape events and getting put out so early. I had higher
expectations for myself, and I know others did too. After resisting the urge to
throw my board off the cliff — partly because there was $1,000 on the
line for best board sacrifice — I shamefully walked to Christian’s truck
and broke the news to my girlfriend, family, and friends. Thankfully they’re all
the coolest and most supportive people, so they helped me bounce back pretty
quickly, and Joel Tudor even came up and told me to shake it off. Hell, I was
still in California surrounded by my idols, good waves, and free booze!
For the first time in a while, I had to be the spectator. It
killed me not to be in the water with the boys, but they were lighting it up
and it was so fun to watch. The standouts of the event were Christian, Harrison
Roach, Alex Knost, and Ryan Burch, and Christian looked as though he was going
to take the event with his long, stylish noserides and second-to-none
roundhouses. Harrison was killing it too, and once my partner in crime got put
out I was pulling for the young Aussie to win the event, especially after his
consecutive 2nd-place finishes in Virginia Beach and Montauk. Harrison was
mixing it up with solid hang tens across overhead sections, a couple tubes, and
smooth and elegant turns, while Ryan Burch was riding an asymmetric board with
a template that had been switched around on both sides of the stringer —
tail to nose on one side of the board, nose to tail on the other side. The
board looked like it was working for him, though, and he stuck some of the
longer noserides of the event mixed with insane backside cutbacks.
But I have to say, the true standout and eventual winner of
the event was Alex Knost. Alex has always done his own thing, and the way he
surfs is not based off of “proper” surfing. This can actually be a catch-22
— if every wave is different and open to improvisation, then the fact
that Alex avoids constructs of what it means to surf “right” may actually mean
that he is surfing “properly.” Confusing I know… but so is Alex’s style of
surfing. Knost has always gotten criticism for his style — some love it, some
hate it, but on the final day of competition even a blind man could see that he
was right on cue. Classically perched on the nose, cranking it off the bottom,
snapping his log in the pocket, wrapping cutbacks, frontside layback barrels,
floaters, carves… Diversity was evident on every wave Alex caught, and he
caught many of them. His wave count was the highest out of anybody in every
heat. He was surfing for the fun of it, and in turn surfed incredibly. His
performance reminded me why I used to watch his section in Sprout every day before I would surf. The judges stopped calling
scores in the final seven minutes of the final, but everyone knew who the
winner was.
Each night of the event was a party, but the final night was
insane. Vans bought 16 of the best longboarders in the world and everyone
associated with them all the beer and amazing food they could shove down their
throats. They treated us like kings — not like second-class surfers, as
99% of the surfing world does. Everyone was in high spirits and it showed.
Throughout the night, lots of crazy things went down: Christian arm-wrestled
Tyler Hatzikian, a giant in comparison to most human beings, and somehow won.
Chad Marshall, advocate for the Gay & Lesbian Surf Association, was awarded
the board sacrifice award and gave the best victory speech ever; I believe he called
all of the finalists “cute.” Alex Knost ironically said that everyone else up
on the podium was better than him at surfing. And Herbie Fletcher got everyone
to sign his contest poster; in a drunken stupor, I wrote “I <3 HERB,” which he
loved. Overall, the scene was more something out of Animal House than an awards banquet. After dinner everyone ran and
skated back to the hotel, partying from one room to the next.
On our way back to San Clemente the next day, we took the
coastal route, hoping to hit a couple spots on the way home. Unfortunately, the
swell that we were hoping to catch hadn’t filled in yet, and although we
stopped for a surf at Rincon, it wasn’t quite doing its thing. So we continued
down the coast to San Clemente, where we surfed for a couple of days. Uppers
was going off one of the mornings, and I had a chance to ride Christian’s
asymmetric fish he was boasting about — and I’ll be damned, but the thing
works. The same swell that lit up the California coast for the past two weeks
started to fill in right before I left, and I scored a few very fun sessions before
returning home.
Vans truly is preserving the sport of longboarding right
now. Whether it’s a marketing ploy or true sincere passion for the eternal beauty
of this style of surfing, I and so many others thank them for the opportunity
and the support that they’ve given loggers this past year with the Joel Tudor
Duct Tape Invitational. I can’t wait for the next one to come in Spain…
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