LADY CRUZ

August 25, 2022

Words by Mia Bolton

Photos by Mia Bolton and Kaley Aposporos

It was the allure of the California Coast in summer that reunited us. The days that stretched on well into the evening, a warmed Pacific Ocean where spring suits felt like enough and shimmering blue-green waves that tumbled onto shore so consistently they felt almost mechanical. Such lucid memories were enough for the three of us, who lived across the country, to reunite in San Diego and prepare for seven days of surfing twice a day up the coast with a couple of Bing Surfboards in tow. The board models we brought were the 9’6” Levitator, the 9’4” Continental and the 9’2” Pocket Knife. 

Meandering up to Morro Bay and back, Michaela, Kaley and I found waves that were peaky and unpredictable, yet fun when you were in the right place, and peelers that took you down the line so far and so fast that you actually had time to think this might be the best wave of my life. Some waves were so precise you had to practically paddle on top of rocks to get into them, and others were so submerged in seaweed our fins would get stuck and bring us to a dead halt. We found waves off of piers that stood up and closed out, but not before we managed to get a few sneaky steps in, and other hidden gems that left us wondering how we would surf any other waves ever again. 

By some insane stroke of luck, we managed to get a California State Park campsite for each night of our trip, where we would wind down our salty days with vibrant violet sunsets over mountains and full moons so bright that all we could do was leave the doors to our tents open and spectate from inside our sleeping bags. 

It didn’t take long for us to settle into a seamless rhythm: Roll up the sleeping bags. Pack the tents. Pack the car. Strap down the surfboards. Make sure the wetsuits are easily accessible (they really do stink, don’t they?). Did you dry the towels? Where’s the sunscreen again? Have you seen my shoes? Our bodies were chapped and browned, our lips (and my scalp) sunburnt, our hair like straw and our muscles fatigued. Everything in our car smelled juuust a little bit like mold, and bars of wax and bottles of zinc lined every nook and cranny. 

While we felt grateful for the waves every day and the campsites every night, the real crux of the trip was centered on the joy of surfing with friends. After all, we had flown so far just to be together, and serendipitously, friends from all over came to meet up with us throughout the week, sharing waves, laughs and memories as we floated together in the Pacific. 

On one particular day, our friends Georgia and Elsa joined us for an hours-long morning session just north of Malibu. It was foggy and low tide, exposing a tumultuous reef tangled in red seaweed. Coming out of the water, Elsa coined us, “Mamacitas Saladitas” or Salty Mamas, which gave us a good laugh as I wrapped her in a hug with one arm and balanced the Pocket Knife on my hip. Elsa’s simple phrase summed it up perfectly— we were tired, smelly, and happy Mamacitas Saladitas.

We extend a tremendous thank you to the legends at Bing for generously loaning us boards and providing A+ recommendations on places to explore. We appreciate you – for everything. 

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