Ride, Rinse and Repeat (HMB Jetty)

My waterproof camera wasn't this morning; it flooded. I'll try to paint a picture with words.

Standing in the dirt lot in the dim half-light before the cool crack of dawn, I knock three times on the window of Luke's big blue truck to wake him from the nap he's taking after dropping a friend at the airport for an early flight. As he stretches, I dash across the road to check the surf at the Jetty. A sideshore breeze blows my long brown hair in my face, and I push it aside, watching the empty, fun-size waves roll in. The wind is dappling a light chop on the water, and nice left is waiting just for me.

My new 4/3 Rip Curl Insulator wetsuit still feels slightly damp from Sunday's surf as I hurry into it, shivering a little in the chill breeze. The sky has lightened as we cross the road and carefully step down the worn bluff to the sand. The wind pushes against my longboard and I repoint it more parallel to the riprap wall bounding the beach. A pause to leash up, glove up, helmet up, and I'm ready to follow Luke into the cold water. The ocean is brownish with red tide and sporting clumps of loose kelp. A seabird bobs near the jetty, but there are no mammals in sight, except us. Slivers of blue sky peek between streaks of white and dark clouds above Pillar Point.

The waves are mixed up on crossing swells, doubling up, shifty. Luke catches one and rides off to the right, leaving me floating patiently, searching the near horizon for a sufficiently walled wave, hoping for a left. I paddle for a few, but they are too mushy. Or I am too far outside, passed by; too far inside, rolled by whitewater. Then a shoulder-high wave rises behind me, wanting to break left. I turn and stroke for it, feel it lift me, pop to my feet and ride down the face, bottom turning with the sizzle of whitewater at my back. I turn near the top and ride down again, enjoying the rhythm of being with the wave, feeling where it wants to take me and moving in response. Too soon the wave breaks fully, bubbles hissing at my tail, but I ride it a little farther, finally falling flat to the side as the rock-studded shallows approach. I splash down and cool water hits my face, trickling into my wetsuit. I plant my feet on the sand, collect my board and point it seaward once again. Ride, rinse and repeat.

Surfline: WNW (295-310) swell peaks, as some NW windswell, and fading SSW swell mix in. Most good exposures across the region are good for waist-chest-shoulder high surf, as top spots are good for some occasional head high+ sets. Winds are moderate out of the WNW, putting some pretty heavy bump/texture to the surf in most areas. Buoy 46012: (Wave) SWELL: 3.0 ft at 13.8 s WSW / WIND WAVE: 5.2 ft at 5.9 s WNW / WVHT: 5.9 ft / APD: 5.3 s / MWD: 303°

Feels Like Flying (Tres Rocas)

Update: Now with pix taken from the beach by Danielle. View them all here.

Chased by overhead whitewater

Holding the handrail

Luke polishing his backside

~ ~ ~

I posited to my buddies that today we surf someplace uncrowded on the south swell, and after checking another spot that was blowing more onshore, Luke's goofy-foot friend Austin took us to a great place on the Lonely Coast. I will pseudonymously call it "Tres Rocas," a name intended to give no clue whatsoever as to its location, although there are indeed three rocks there. I'm afraid it was that good, and that empty on a day that saw most other local breaks either packed or sloppy with southwest wind, that I don't want to risk exposing it. Luke, Austin and I were joined by Austin's buddy Mark, and his wife Danielle took pix from the beach (photographic evidence of my OH rides may be coming).

The shorepound getting out to the left point break was gnarly. I got denied a couple of times before moving farther down the beach and paddling like hell during a lull to get past it. Once there, the first half hour was a dismal exercise in frustration, as promising waves would mound up unrideably or I'd catch them only to fail getting over the lip as they crossed a deeper section and mushed out. The key, as Luke pointed out, was to be right on the peak as the wave broke. But unlike at Rachel's Point, where the waves jacked up steep at the peak, these waves offered a gradual drop; they were not out to kill me, despite being overhead. After half an hour of nothing, I looked at the spot where the waves were first breaking, clearly indicated by the lingering surface bubbles, and told myself to Get. Over. There. Now.

 Luke rides one in

The first wave I rode was tandem with Luke, taking the drop on my belly when he was already riding to my left, but I popped up at the bottom and hooted; it was FAST. The next was similar but solo, and then I really committed. I took one that Luke said was a foot-and-a-half over my head, riding it into a reform, and then too far into the shore break, falling the wrong way (beachward) as it sucked up sand, the wave bouncing me off the bottom and pushing Magic (not too hard) into my ribs. I got another wave with probably my biggest drop yet, riding frontside and flying down the line just past a hooting Austin - with me again joyously calling WOO HOO! - but this time not taking it all the way in. Paddling back for a couple more, I asked him how high the wave had been, and he first said, "Dunno, 10 feet?" but then backed off to a couple feet over my head. No matter, it was big and awesome and soooo much fun!

I truly hope there is another south swell before the season ends. I know where I want to surf it!

Surfline: Good SSW swell held strong this morning with chest-head high+ waves with some modest WNW windswell mixing in. Standout spots were still producing some 1-2' overhead sets. That swell mix is starting to fade this afternoon. Buoy 46012: (Wave) SWELL: 4.9 ft at 16.0 s SSW / WIND WAVE: 2.3 ft at 5.3 s WSW / WVHT: 5.6 ft / APD: 6.8 s / MWD: 213°

Seal Beach

Seal Beach was a good spot to be this morning, with south and west swells groomed into shifty peaks and the wind blowing mostly offshore.

It was another gorgeous sunny morning on the coast that would have served as a fine backdrop for pix and video. Sadly, the Surf Camera Case, which I've been using for a little while to secure my waterproof Pentax to my wetsuit, broke apart in the parking lot. (It's a bad design, but more on that later.) Better to fail there than in the water, but the camera had to sit out the session.

Luke and I made the hike into Seal Beach with our shortboards, and I was looking forward to getting back on my 5'8" Xanadu Rocky after too many recent longboarding sessions, fun as they were. The waves were mostly under head high, but some larger ones were coming through at times. Ideally we would have hit the break more on a mid-tide, instead of almost dead-on a high high that was swamping many of the waves into amorphous mounds while others retained steep drops. There was a small but manageable crowd on the three peaks, with some fun-to-watch good shortboarders in the mix, including a couple other surfer girls for a change.

I sat on the left shoulder of the middle peak and caught a couple of waves, but got blown off the backside by the wind. Offshores are esteemed but I failed to account for them properly; probably I needed to paddle another one or two strokes and force the board more downward. It's always a learning experience, so next time. Luke got one nice ride and I keep trying to get mine. A curly-haired young shortboarder apparently decided that he didn't want me to have any waves, as he twice moved directly into my take-off zone. The first time I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but when he later saw me paddling for a wave, then took himself directly into my path, stopped and sat there, not even trying for it himself, I got a bit peeved and said "Dude, you keep paddling right in front of me!" He just looked at me, then looked away, saying nothing. The guy did it to Luke once too. Seriously uncool.

When the overhead closeouts rolled in periodically from the outside, it was time for duck-diving practice. I was doing well until I hit one right in the pocket, not pushing deep enough, and got sent through the spin cycle, pulling up my leash to get back to the surface. Another followed on its heels and tumbled me again, this time holding me down for an uncomfortable couple of needing-air seconds. In a perverse way I kind of enjoy little hold-downs, as it makes me feel more alive, and glad to be so, when I finally take a breath again. Later another bomb came at me and this time I pushed the nose as deep as I could, coming out cleanly on the other side, followed quickly by a second success. Yay! But had a third duck dive been required just then, I think I would have blown it because I was getting fatigued.

Since my little-better than weekend-warrior muscles sometimes get tired before I tire of surfing, I read with interest this article in the NY Times about quercetin, "a flavonoid found naturally in apple skins, berries, red wine, black tea and some leafy vegetables," that some studies have shown to be a performance enhancer. It gave mice substantially more endurance when they were forced to run on tiny treadmills. Alas, studies in people showed it didn't do a damn thing, leading the researcher to say that “you can’t generalize from mouse studies to humans.” Hmm, but that's how all of our drugs are tested for safety and efficacy...

Gazos Creek, 15 August 2009

It's been quite windy lately but at least that's brought us some NW windswell. L and I planned to surf at one of our secret spots on the Lonely Coast this morning before the wind ramped back up, but on the way south, we diverted to a new break that looked good from the highway.

There was a small group of guys out at Gazos Creek on the main peak, which was sometimes overhead. A second peak appeared a bit less daunting but I admit to a niggling aprehension as I suited up and walked to the beach with my shortboard. One good thing about surfing with L, as when I surfed with SoCal deserter D, is that it forces me to push my boundaries, both of comfort and skill.

Although the short-period windswell had the waves stacked up to the beach, we lucked into a slot and I got out the back with only one (successful) duckdive. Returning from the inside was not so easy other times, and an outside bomb later sent me spinning when I couldn't get deep enough under it. The waves were often moundy and hard to get into, but then jacked up very steep - close to vertical - in the blink of an eye. L pulled off several rides, nearly free-falling to the bottom, and I just tried to make the drops. L gave me some tips: angle more, shift weight back immediately after popping up to flatten the board so the nose doesn't drop, be quick. I didn't land any this time, but next time I will!

On the way home, S and I bought a warm loaf of artichoke garlic herb bread from the Country Bakery in Pescadero. Two thumbs up as a post-surf snack.

The air was smoky from the large wildfire burning north of Santa Cruz.
Speakers on for an audio preview of The Time Traveler's Wife by L.

Seal Beach, 27 June 2009

Since a migraine ruined last week's surf session at Seal Beach, I wanted to go back and make up for it. And on my first day without my morning soy mocha (since they say caffeine is a headache trigger), I needed some cold duck dives just to wake up. After S and I went on a hot forest hike at Butano State Park, I was more than ready for a dip in the chilly Seal Beach water.

This time I took Nemo instead of the shortboard, and got a couple little lefts. L rode the wave of the day on his longboard, solidly in the pocket on a long right. In the face of a near head-high crashing closeout, I made my worst ever attempted duck-dive, sucked over the falls with my lower legs shooting into the air as the wave spun me ass over teakettle. But still, it was a fun non-scary tumble. Shortly after, I surprised myself with one perfect duck dive on an admittedly easier just-breaking wave.

It was a fun surf session on an absolutely gorgeous sunny summer day on the NorCal coast!

Butano State Park

Seal Beach, 21 June 2009

It's true, the water is much colder at Seal Beach.

Most of the coast was blown out like Pomponio.

Seal Point, 13 June 2009

The Surf Bloggers' Code requires concealing the identity of any break that is not well known or clearly visible from a main road. Today's break names are pseudonyms and I'll only say that they are somewhere on the Lonely Coast between Half Moon Bay and Santa Cruz.

L and I thought Seal Beach might be a good choice for our mid-morning board meeting, but it needed more water. Just past low tide, the overhead wave was breaking heavy and hollow in the shallows - above our skill and comfort level.

We tried a nearby well-known beach break, but it was jam-packed with surfers, so we drove a little to a new spot I'd never heard about until this morning. A couple guys were just leaving Seal Point and we had it all to ourselves. It was a long walk in carrying my shortboard, and I got hot in my top-down 4/3 wetsuit traipsing over dunes in the soft sand. At my approach, a startled deer bounded away from the path into the tall grass, turned and peered back at me.

Can you see the deer in this photo?

The beach at the end of the hike was gorgeous, as they all are on the Lonely Coast, with nice lefts peeling alongside in infrequent sets. Close to the rock-guarded Point, the waves were overhead, so we went in father down the beach where they dropped to (mostly) under head-high.

I caught only one wave, but it was AWESOME! One of my best rides EVER! In a land of rights, I think it was the first time I rode a left on my shortboard. It's so much nicer to be facing the wave instead of having it at my back, and I was totally dialed in for a great ride. I wanna do it again! WOO HOO!!!