Bolinas | Patch |
9:30 am to 11:00 am | 2’ to 3’, sets to 4’, |
Mid tide, raising tide | No wind, glassy |
Sunny, clear and cold | Another good session |
I was running late this morning. Kate was ready to back out of the garage and I hadn’t loaded the board yet. I dashed to my Jeep, which was parked on the street at the base of our driveway and started the engine. Kate was backing down the driveway; I quickly turned on the wipers to get the morning dew off the windshield. S-C-R-A-P-E! The dew was frozen. Kate had backed into the street by now.
“Kate, Ice! I have to use my Wisconsin Badger Ice Scrapper.” She traveled on while I grabbed the ice scrapper from the front-door pocket. Son Kevin had given me this about five years ago. It’s bright red, with a clear-plastic triangle shaped head with a sharp blade and a long red handle with a cartoon badger printed on it. One to two times a year I need to use this device. It’s a good thing I keep it in the car, and it sure does a good job; far better than a credit card.
I had no expectations on surf conditions. I knew that the web sites were predicting an increase in the size of the swell. Given that we had ended up at Stinson on Monday and Wednesday, I stopped to check it out. I parked next to the Parkside Snack Bar, grabbed my camera and my Wisconsin Badger traveling coffee mug. The swell had definitely come up; Stinson was four foot and walled. I took a couple of pictures for the fun it, used the head and started on my way to Bolinas. Given the size of the waves at Stinson I was hopeful for some waves at Bolinas.
Half way around the Bolinas Lagoon near the entrance of the Audubon Society compound, I reached for the travel cup for a quick sip of coffee. It’s not there. My Wisconsin Badger Travel Coffee Cup was not there. I had left it at Stinson. I remembered exactly where I had put it. I left it on top of that large round green plastic vent in front of the showers. “Turn around and get it. When are you ever going to get back to Madison, Wisconsin to purchase a replacement?” I said to myself. Thus I turned around and went back to Stinson Beach. There it was exactly where I knew it was. I took a classic picture of my bright red travel cup sitting on that vent with a four-foot wall of water in the background.
At Bolinas I saw Ray the Petaluma fireman and Mary Wagstaff’s cars there with their boards gone. They’re in the water, that’s a good sign. They were out at the Patch along with three other surfers. The waves looked small and inconsistent, but definitely rideable. I took a couple of pictures. The above picture is Mary turning into a good three footer. Robert the Larkspur carpenter showed up. He had his usual negative things to say about the surf conditions. “It’s better than Monday and Wednesday. I’m suiting up,” I told him.
Mary and Ray were way out there by themselves; beyond the outside rock, which was underwater. The others were inside catching the good right breaking waves. I was the eighth person to enter the water. I paddled out to where Mary and Ray were. Mary greeted me and mentioned the waves were fun but she was cold and about to call it a day. Mary always arrives early. She had already been out for two hours. The water was indeed cold. The water temperature had dropped. I’m not sure what the temperature was but it must be close to 50 degrees because it was instant ice cream headaches anytime you put your head under water.
“Hey Knee-High every time you come out the waves arrive,” shouted Mary to me. And she was right, just as I pulled up a set of good waves came through. There I was looking at a four-foot wall of water coming right at me; it was cresting and about to break. After her comment, I had to take it. I paddled out. I could see that it was starting to break. At the Patch the waves are gentle with flat take-offs. This wave started to break; I turned around and caught the white water that was sliding down the crest of the wave. I have done this before; I know one can catch the white water and maneuver into the swell. That’s what I did. I caught the white water, gained some momentum and pushed out into the swell of the wave, which was lining up across another peak. I rode this wave a long ways, cutting back to let the swell build again into another section. The Patch waves are slow, but the rides are long. I rode this one all the way to the inside big rock which was exposed. I almost hit it. Later on I did the same thing catching the white water, riding into the swell portion of the wave and cutting back and cutting back to have another long, long ride.
Today there were two peaks that connected. I was at the north most one. I could catch a wave at the north peak, go right, gain some speed and slide into the second peak. Both peaks are defined by the contour of the bottom. When coming into the second peak, I could see that the bottom was shallow and thus causing the formation of the second peak. If one could get through the second peak, the wave would line up for a long, long ride. But it was difficult to make the second peak. For me, it kept breaking in front of me and I couldn’t get into those long line-ups. I kept saying to myself, squat down and grab a rail to push past the white water of the second peak. Easier said than done. I kept trying to get high in the curl of the second peak, step to the middle of the board and ride the curl past the peak. Most of the time this didn’t work. Two or three times I made it and had long, long rides.
By being at the north peak, I could catch some left breaking waves. I caught several good lefts that went a long ways over some very swallow water. I caught one good left four-foot wall where I managed to get high in the curl, step to the middle of the board, planted one foot on the right rail and the other on the left rail and then froze for three or four seconds while I shot through a long well formed curl.
After an hour an older surfer paddled out. He caught my attention. I’m 62 and this gentleman must be ten years older than myself. He didn’t have the strength of the younger guys and thus struggled paddling out, paddling into waves and standing up. But he was there and doing it. Here he was in his mid-seventies, 200 yards offshore, in 52-degree water and pushing the limits of his physical strength. But he was doing it. I chatted with him briefly. A set wave came in; I paddled to get over it, he turned and started paddling to catch it. “He’s too far in front of the wave,” I thought to myself. “It will break right on him.” I paddled over the top of the wave as it crested and then looked back to follow him. The wave broke; I couldn’t see him, then after a few seconds he was up and riding the white water and managed to push out into the swell portion of the wave. He got a descent ride. What an inspiration. Will I be able to be out here at age 75?
The waves got better the longer I was out there. At the end of my session, two sets of large waves came through. These waves broke much further out than the other waves. The first set peaked about 50 yards south of my position. I saw Dan Hoag Jr. stroking out at great speed to catch the first wave of the set. Dan Jr. who is my son Kevin’s age (32) is an excellent surfer. At the last moment, he whipped his board around and with two stokes caught the wave. As I was paddling over the wave, I got an excellent view of him coming left on this head-high, clean, wall of water.
When the second set came through, I was in position to connect with a big right peak. I caught the first wave of the set, turned right and looked down a perfectly shaped, head-high, wall. These set waves broke beyond the two peaks, thus there was no problem maneuvering around the second peak. Instead this wave unfolded continuously in front of me. I stayed high in the curl, shot down this long fast face, cut back, paused for the wave to build and again shot through another fast section. The wave went on and on and I milked it for all its worth, all the way to the inside rock. Dan Jr. was paddling out as I approached the inside. I gave him a fist in the air wave and headed for shore.
That was it. I was out for an hour and a half, exhausted and cold; my fingers were numb, and it was time to get out. What a good session, just another day in paradise.
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