July 31, 2010 Saturday

Ventura	Surfers' Point
8:20 am to 10:00 am	2' to 3', sets to 4'
Low tide (1.3 ft)	No wind
High fog	Fun session

“I usually surf the cove.” My 25-year-old niece pointed towards the peaks near the Crown Plaza Hotel on the strand at Surfers’ Point in Ventura. We’re standing in the parking lot suiting up to go out. Yesterday I drove from San Diego to Ventura to visit my brother and sister-in-law and ride some waves before making the long drive home to Mill Valley. “Look the waves are better down there. We can enter the water here and go down there.”

“I’ll follow your lead. Heather do you wear booties?” The water temperature was around 60 degrees, which the locals call cold but at that temperature booties were not needed, except for walking over the boulders.

“I don’t usually wear them. With low tide I don’t need them. I only wear them when the waves are breaking up against the rocks.”

Surfers’ Point is a mile long gradual bend in the coastline that sets up a series of right breaking peaks. The city has erected a seawall of huge boulders to prevent shore erosion. On top of the rocks is a fifteen-foot wide concrete strand/bike path with a public parking lot where the parking is free. It’s a great set-up: wide sidewalk, grass, palm trees and public restrooms, all within steps of the water. On extreme high tides and big swells the waves crash against the boulders making entering and exiting the water dangerous. But not today, the tide was low and the beach sand was exposed. I took Heather’s advice and didn’t put on my booties.

“Heather that’s a great board.” She was waxing up her new longboard.

“It was made especially for me, look.” She flipped it over and pointed to the writing the shaper had penciled into the stringer down the center of the board. There next to the dimensions and the shaper’s name was “Happy birthday Heather.” My tall thin niece had a paddling machine, 9’ 6’’, thick nose with the bulk of the board in front of the mid-point, little rocker, one big fin and no leash.

Heather is an excellent surfer and an accomplished swimmer. With this paddling machine and her strong arms she caught everything. I was amazed how she could get that board moving for the flattest of swells and glide into them. Once up she had no problems. Being a goofy-foot with her back to the right breaking waves she skillfully maneuvered across the faces of these waves. Meanwhile I was having trouble pushing into the waves. After I hour I figured it out, move way inside and take off late.

Photo opportunity and wave of the session, Heather and I stroked into a four-foot well-formed wall. We glided down the wave together with Heather at the top and me below her. For a good five seconds we cruised along the face, Heather with her back to the wave looking down at me. As it began to section I backed off allowing Heather to straighten out. What a great ride. Too bad no one was on shore to snap a photo of it. This wave was the highlight of our session for both of us.

Near the end of our session, I connected on a good four-foot wall. No one was around me and I was in position. I started high in the wave and stayed there. Some guy took off in front of me; I drove right up next to him to intimate him. It worked, he pulled out and I continued on. The wave built up again into another section and I hummed along it right up to the shore.

After our session, Heather, Larry (Heather’s father) and I had breakfast at the Golden Egg, a small family owned and operated, clean place with an out-door patio and six tables inside. Excellent omelets and home made banana bread, a specialty of the house. The Golden Egg is definitely an entry for our Surfer’s Eateries blog.

After that good surf session, a filling breakfast and reconnecting with Larry and Heather, I gassed up the car and was relaxed and mentally ready for the long trip home. During my lunch break, I wrote this up while having a grilled chicken Caesar salad at the McDonald’s in Paso Robles, the McDonald’s owned by Greg’s son, Dana who I just surfed with three days ago.

July 30, 2010 Friday

Cardiff by the Sea	Cardiff Reef
8:50 am to 10:30 am	3' to 4', sets to 5'
Mid upcoming tide	Slight onshore breeze
Overcast	Fun session

“Are you going out?” I had just taken some photos when I put this question to a local surfer about my age.

“Of course. I have to get my exercise.” The surf looked good to me, but to the locals it was mediocre.

“You know I have not surfed here in years. I first surfed here fifty years ago.”

“Lucky you!”

“That was before the San Elijo State Park over there. I remember a reef way out there and that the waves were gentle and the rides were long.”

“I love this place. There are always waves. It takes all swells: north, west and south. Only the really south swells don’t get in here. The parking is easy and the crowd is mellow.”

Welcome to Cardiff Reef in the town of Cardiff by the Sea, located south of Encinitas Beach and its famous break, Swami’s. A high bluff begins at Swami’s and gradually declines in height for two miles and abruptly ends at the mouth of a lagoon at Cardiff. Like Bolinas the tidal action of a steady stream of water flowing in and out the lagoon builds sand bars to form the peaks. A reef comprised of sand and sea grass sits two hundred yards offshore. Today three peaks broke at the apex of the reef. The set waves on the south peak broke to the right and continuously peeled along the contour of the sand bar until on the inside they stood straight up and broke as steep beach waves. The north peak broke left, not as long as the rights, but well formed until they hit the deep water coming out of the lagoon.

I have fond memories of this place. In the summer of 1960, when I was 15 years old, the YMCA organized their one and only surf safari. They loaded fifteen teenage boys into a cattle truck along with their surfboards and sleeping bags and headed off down the California coast. The YMCA had not planned a thing, no reservations. They thought they could pull into any campground and find space. No way! All of them were full. We reached Cardiff by the Sea and a Highway Patrol officer allowed us to camp on the beach at Cardiff. What luck, during the day we would head south to locate a new spot to surf and then return to Cardiff to camp for the night. For five evenings straight we surfed Cardiff Reef as the sun set and stayed out until it was too dark to see the waves coming. For a young kid, it was a wonderful week. Thus I have a warm spot in my heart for Cardiff.

Twenty-one surfers were in the water, most of them bunched at the right breaking peak. The quality of the surfers was top-notch with long nose rides on the inside section, like in the above photo. My strategy was to join the crowd at the right peak and then work my way over to the left peak. Good strategy.

I joined the local surfer I had talked to and a couple of his friends. The surface was glassy smooth and the water was warm, even though the locals bitched about how cold it was. I watch the others take off on some good right peaks, waited patiently until I was position and stroked into a four-foot wave, turned right, dropped half way down the swell and stood there cruising down a well formed wall cutting back twice to stay in the wave and straightening out when it finally closed-out in shallow water on the inside. What a good start to my session.

I worked myself north to the left peak. Now I was among the stand-up surfers and kayakers, but the waves were good and I managed to connect on several long lefts. The water was so smooth and the swells so clean that dropping down the face and turning was accompanied by a “SHOOSH” sound. Every wave was like that.

When surfing an unfamiliar place, a good tactic is to pick out one or two locals who have the place wired and observe them. They will know where the peaks are and the signs of an approaching set. Paddling out I noticed a Hawaiian looking local was in position for a set wave. I saw him drop down a head-high peak as I paddled over it; he was crouched down, mid-board, his back to the wave with the curl feathering over his right shoulder, on and on he went until the wave died in the deep water of the out-flowing lagoon current. He became my marker. When he paddled out, I paddled out. When he paddled to the side, I paddled to the side. In his fifties, he wore just a rash-guard and aloha trunks, had dark swept back hair and a steady, confident and focused stroke. My strategy worked. I caught the second or third wave of every set after he had taken off on the first one.

Two stand-up guys were fishing out beyond the surf line. One stood balancing himself with a paddle in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. He looked un-steady, tipping side to side as the swells passed under him.

“You know if that guy hooks something big it will pull him off into the water. Are there any big fish around here?” I commented to my Hawaiian mentor.

“I don’t know, but look there’s something flapping around in that gunny sack on the deck of his board.”

“If he hooks a shark, tell him to throw it back.”

After an hour the surf died and nothing came through. My Hawaiian mentor had moved over to the right peak and way inside, and a few moments later he was gone. I did the same. A set finally came through and ten surfers went for the first wave, including me. I caught it, went straight off and rode it towards shore until my skeg hit the sand. What a fun session. Cardiff still had that charm I remember so well from my youth.

I changed, chatted with the same local and after that satisfying session I drove across the highway to the world’s best bakery – VG’s Donuts and Bakery. I broke my diet. Being here I had to purchase their best: one glazed twist, two buttermilk bars and a large cup of coffee. With that I hit the road, Historic 101, for my journey to Ventura. I cranked up the surf music from my iPod that was connected to the car’s sound system, sipped on the coffee, ate the best donuts in the world and soaked up the ambiance of the Southern California beach towns from Cardiff by the Sea to Huntington Beach.

July 28, 2010 Wednesday

San Onofre	Old Man's
8:50 am to 10:30 am	2' to 4', sets to 5'
Mid upcoming tide	North cross breeze
Sunny with high clouds	Fun session

“I always check here first because Lowers is always the biggest break.” My friend Greg swept his hand towards several breaks we could see from the viewpoint at the top of the off ramp for San Onofre. Yesterday I made the long drive from Mill Valley to San Clemente to spend a day with my life long friend Greg. I was combining surfing with a trip to visit my mother and brother in San Diego. Greg, his son Dana, and I had piled three boards on the top of his new 4Runner and were headed for San Onofre. Here we were in Surfer’s paradise. From this vantage point we could view an incredible stretch of California coastline of great surf breaks: Cotton’s Point – a big left breaking reef in front of the Nixon’s Western White House, Upper Trestles - long fast breaking lines, Lower Trestles - the best shortboard break in California, Church’s - another world class shortboard break, and San Onofre - the classic longboard break.

At 8:00 am ten surfers were bunched together at one beautiful glassy peak at Lower Trestles. The land bends slightly creating a peak that primarily breaks right with a shorter but excellent left. We watched several good, long right curl rides. Lowers attracts the best surfers, every one there is good enough to a pro. You can imagine, best surfers at the best break results in high testosterone and aggressiveness; it’s not for old men and longborards. “Lowers looks good, San Onofre will be fun,” Greg announced and he was right.

Twenty surfers were spread across “Old Man’s” when we arrived. Here we were at the historic break where Southern California surfing began; first ridden in 1933 by Bob Sides, site of the Pacific Coast Surf Riding Championships from 1938 to 1941 and home of the exclusive San Onofre Surfing Club, the only ones who had permission to surf here during the thirty years that San Onofre was part of the Camp Pendleton Marine base. In 1973 it became part of the California State Parks system and open to the public. We pulled up and parked next to the famous palm-frond shack that symbolizes San Onofre. The waves broke a hundred yards offshore, and Greg explained there’s one basic peak that breaks in both directions. The swells come in long lines, break at the apex of the peak and keep pushing forward providing force for the waves to reform and continuously break in both directions.

Greg and Dana had debated about which wetsuits to wear, light spring suits or their thick winter ones. Last week the water temperature was in the mid-sixties. Greg howled when entering the water. The water temperature had dropped and thank goodness they had decided to wear thick wetsuits. Of course to me it felt like bath water. I followed Greg out but he soon left me in his tracks due to his ten-foot, four-inch thick Stewart Hydra-glide paddling machine and his strong arms. By the time I reached the line-up Greg was dropping down the face of his first wave, and Dana followed by connecting on a long right.

White water forms at the top of the peaks and slides down flat faces. The waves pick up power when the white water reaches the bottom, then the curls form creating steep pockets in front of the breaking part of the waves; steep enough for nose riding. On my first wave I was surprised that I was able to push into such a flat wave. I turned left and dropped to the middle of a head-high swell. Another surfer was in front of me; I kept in the critical part of the wave, cutting back twice to remain in the steep part of the curl. The other surfer saw me and pulled out, letting me have the wave. I managed to push into one more fast section before the wave died near shore. Then I knew it was going to be a good session.

Outside sat the locals who stroked for the flat peaks and pushed into them. Greg could do that also. With his paddling machine and excellent physical condition, Greg would generate incredible board speed and glide into every wave. He caught countless waves. With every set, he was on it; he would pick off the bigger waves, glided into them, skillfully dropped down the faces and maneuvered the curls all the way into shore. While paddling out I got a good view on Dana coming down a head-high face. He stood erect in the middle of his board, white water feathering behind him as he calmly cruised down a beautiful blue-green wall.

Way outside sat a crushed long-time San Onofre surfer. He was about my age, lean body, rippling neck and back muscles from years of paddling, sun tan leathery skin, gray swept-back hair and a huge mustache. A set approached, he paddled north toward the peak, turned and started stroking for the wave. It was too flat I thought; he would never catch it. With board speed he was right there when the white water began to form at the top of the wave. He jumped up, crouched down in the middle of his board to push his weight forward and went straight for ten yards before dropping over the edge of the wave. I watched his head cruised left just ahead of the breaking part of the wave and on and on he went. I saw him repeat these maneuvers on at least five more waves. He had the place wired.

Outside also sat the most unlikely looking surfer, a young kid, soft-pudgy build, white, white skin, round-faced, black hair and all smiles. He was having a great time. He paddled for completely flat peaks, but he had so much board speed he could glide into them. And once up he would walk to the nose and hang five on totally flat peaks.

“What’s the size of that board?” I greeted him as he paddled back out.

“Eleven feet. I need a fifteen-foot runway just to get it going.” With an extra long board and no rocker, he could catch anything. I was amazed.

The scenery at San Onofre was stunning. We were hundred yards offshore viewing the brown dry low bluffs, the parked cars and the famous grass shack. Military helicopters passed overhead and the low rumble of artillery cannons sounded in the distance. To the north we saw the white water at Cotton’s Point and Upper Trestles, and to the south carved into the bluff and sitting on the beach were the two domes of the Southern California Edison nuclear power plant.

My last wave was my best ride. I trimmed along the top of a four-foot wall, cut back, leaned into another fast section and milked this wave right up to the beach. It was a sunny beautiful day and Greg, Dana and I agreed that it was another perfect surf session.

July 23, 2010 Friday

Bolinas	Channel
8:50 am to 10:30 am	2' to 3', sets to 4'
Mid upcoming tide	NW cross breeze to no wind
Overcast - fog on the ridge	Fun session

Prospects for waves looked good this morning: the south swell was still with us (3.5 ft at 15 seconds), the wind had died down, the water had warmed up (55 degrees) and the tide was coming in.

When I arrived at Bolinas, Scott who only surfs on Wednesdays was suiting up.

“Scott, it’s Friday. What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t been out in awhile and I had the opportunity, so I’m here.”

“What’s it like out there?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked. I’m just going.”

The up coming tide had covered the rocks at the Patch, only the outside rock was barely exposed. Ten people, three stand-ups and seven surfers, were bunched up at one peak, the only peak that was breaking. The waves looked weak and slow. Several of the Bolinas regulars were there, including Mary, Marty, Russ on his stand-up and Robert the Larkspur carpenter. No one was at the Groin or Channel though some rideable lefts were coming through and some long peeling rights were happening on the Seadrift side of the Channel.

I came up the ramp after taking some photos and met Hank with his wetsuit on. “Is there anything out there?”

“No!” I snapped. “Just kidding. Ten people are bunched together at one Patch peak and the Channel looks like it has some small lefts.” Hank too had not checked out the surf. Like Scott, he was going no matter what.

So was I. Yesterday I bought a new wetsuit at Proof Lab and was determined to try it out. My old wetsuit was way passed its prime with stretch holes in the shoulders and knees and seams pulling apart in the legs and ankles. I purchase the same thing, an XCEL LS with the zipper in the front just under the neck.

“Mary you’re getting out so early.” It’s 8:30 am and she was at her car drying her hair with a towel.

“I got here at 6:30. I was determined to get here early, get in and get out. If I don’t, I don’t get anything done in the day.”

I knew exactly what she was talking about. If I stay out in the water until eleven, I don’t get home until 12:30. I unload the car, rinse off my wetsuit, shower, clean up, have lunch, take a quick nap and before I know it, it’s three in the afternoon and the day is almost gone.

The left peak had definitely returned to the Channel. Scott and two others were out there when I paddled out. Scott claimed that right where he was sitting was the edge. Twenty feet further south one cannot make the wave. But right here you could drop down the face and turn into a good left section. Scott was right. On my first wave I dropped into a well-formed curl that peeled for several yards. The waves were a combination of wind ripples, formed by the south winds of the past two days, on top of three-foot south ground swells. Scott pointed out that it was difficult to distinguish real waves, those with a ground swell, from just piled up wind ripples.

Another surfer paddled out and promptly caught two small good waves. “I was out at the Patch for an hour and a half and already I have doubled my wave count here.”

Later on I asked him how his arms felt. “An hour and a half at the Patch, then you paddled over here and have been here for another hour. How do your arms feel?”

“Like noodles. Paddling out just now I stroked and stroked and felt I wasn’t getting anywhere.” He caught one more and called it a day. Soon the whole crowd from the Patch was here, including Marty and Robert. With the tide coming up, the waves at the Patch died and everyone either got out or moved to the Channel.

Paddling out I caught a good view of Robert with his back to the wave coming down a head-high fast breaking left wall. I had a series of three good rights in a row. On the first I took off late, cut right, the curl held up through the first section, I cut back into the white water to let curl build up again and then swung right into a good inside section. On my second wave, my leash had wrapped around my leg and prevented me from standing up. I laid back down, stayed in the wave, shook my foot, the leash came loose, I stood up and maneuvered down another well-formed long right wave. My third wave, like the first one, was long, well formed and mellow. These waves reminded me of the gentle long waves at Bluff Cove in Palos Verdes, a favorite spot of my youth.

After an hour and a half my arms were spent. With the raising tide the frequency of the waves had dropped off. I worked my way towards the Groin. Watching the white water I saw that another peak had formed half way between the Channel and the Groin. I positioned myself in the middle of the white water of a previous wave and waited. Good move, a set of decent waves came through. I let another surfer have the first wave and I went for the second one. I stroked into a three-foot wall that held up. I climbed high in the curl, stepped to the middle of the board, locked the rail under the lip of the curl, extended my right foot forward and hummed across a steep continuous left curl until it collapse in two feet of water near the Groin wall. With that I called it a day.

Again, it was another beautiful and fun morning in Marin.

July 21, 2010 Wednesday

Bolinas	Patch
9:20 am to 11:15 am	3' to 4', sets to 5'
High tide (2.5 ft at 10:00 am)	South breeze to NW cross wind
High fog	Fun session

“The lunch crowd has arrived!” Jaime the starving cartoonist greeted me at 8 am just after finishing his two-hour session at the Patch. He reported that he had a fun session, the south wind was dying and the waves were getting better. He had trouble sleeping last night thus he was out in the water at first light. I complimented him on his classic square-tailed, big single fin, Dewey Weber longboard that was lying in the back of his truck. This was his Patch board that he only rides here. He pointed to a repair around the fin box. On his very first wave on this board, here at the Patch, he hit a rock and flew spread eagle over the front of the board. When he surfaced, he flipped it over to discover the entire fin box pulled out of the tail of the board. He had it repaired and now the fin is set at a slight tilt.

“Is it like when you take your hands off the wheel and the car swerves to the right?”

“Yes, my board is out of alignment. It veers to the right,” he laughed.

I went up to Terrace Road above the Patch to take some photos. Russ was out on his standup. He took off on a four-foot wall on the inside. I reached for my camera, turned it on and by the time I focused the wave broke all over Russ and sent him flying. He later told me that he a great session and that the waves were getting better.

Dexter drove up in is pickup truck. “Dexter, you’re back. Did you go to Mexico? I haven’t seen you for awhile.”

“No, that fell through. I have been hanging out at other places like Santa Cruz. I was there for the Fourth of July.”

A big south swell had hit Northern California that weekend and per Dexter Santa Cruz was wall-to-wall surfers on the Fourth. But he hung on a couple more days and on Monday July 5th the crowd had thinned out and the surf was huge. Dexter went out at first peak at Pleasure Point and the sets got up to fifteen feet, which even for him was intimidating. He showed me his small gun that he used that day – a brand new John Moore shaped Mystic shortboard. It was a beautiful board, wide in the middle for floatation and thick in the nose and tail for strength. Dexter claimed that yesterday evening the Patch glassed off and was great. He planned to go out there later today.

Prospects for waves on the Internet looked good this morning: 6 ft NW swell at 10 seconds, a 3 ft south swell at 17 seconds with NW winds. Stormsurf labeled this swell “S6” (sixth major south swell of the season) and predicted that “pure” swell would arrive today. I scheduled my week around their forecast and had high hopes for good waves. The swell had arrived but so did the south winds. Stormsurf had mentioned that the NW winds could have an eddy affect along the coast. Weather fronts, like hurricanes, spin as they move, thus the eddy affect in our case causes south winds from the rotating weather front. The south wind had ripped up the ocean this morning; a good swell was coming through chop, bumps and ripples. Despite the wind the Patch had strong waves and a big crowd to greet them.

My plan was to paddle out to the furthest peak at the Patch while my arms were fresh and work my way into the inside break. Once out there I decided to join Mary and Hans who had moved north to separate themselves from the crowd and to go for the lefts over the shallow reef. Mary talked about the great waves she caught here yesterday and the good lefts she had got this morning. We chatted and waited and waited. Hans gave up and paddled back to the main peak with its crowd of twelve surfers. A set came through; I paddled for two of them and missed them. Mary caught one that quickly mushed out and died.

“I’ll wait for one more set and then I’ll go in,” Mary announced. And we waited and waited. Another set finally came and again I missed two of them. Mary caught one and continued paddling in. I wasn’t going to give up on this peak. A big set arrived and I scored. I took off late on a four-foot wall, dropped down the face, the wave had some force and broke in front of me, I drove under the white water and climbed back into the swell. Now I was on the inside over the shallow reef. The wave picked up, I crouched down mid-board and shot through a section, cut back and turned into a steep shore break curl. I pulled out as the wave crashed on shore. It was a long, great ride.

“Loren, how are you?” I turned and looked back. It was Carl from Petaluma. Carl who is in his fifties grew up in Hawaii and has surfed all his life.

“Carl, I haven’t seen you in a while. Where have you been?”

“I haven’t surfed here in a long time.”

“But, judging by the sunburn on your face you have been in the water.”

“My son and I have just returned from a surf trip to Nicaragua, north Nicaragua, not the south where the crowd is.” Carl and his son got some good waves and caught the tail end of the hurricane that hit southern Mexico. The storm kicked up the swell and the wind that ripped up the water making the waves un-surfable.

“Loren, you cannot believe the poverty.” Having been a Peace Corps volunteer on the Caribbean coast of Colombia, I could imagine the poverty of rural Nicaragua.

“What were your accommodations like?”

“It was a surf travel service and it was reasonable, $1000 for the week. They picked us up at the airport. They had a home on the beach, provided meals and had a boat to take us to the surf spots. We had a great time.”

Carl and I shared a few waves and then I moved back to the pack. The crowd grew, my arms gave out and the cold was setting in. One more and I would go in. It never came. After a long wait I started paddling in from the main peak. As I approach the inside break, a set came through and by the third wave I was in position. I stroked into it and I was so tired I rode it on my belly. It was a good wave with a steep inside curl that deposited me close to shore and I paddle in from there. I was exhausted, it was a fun session and the waves were getting better.

July 14, 2010 Wednesday

Bolinas	Groin
9:00 am to 10:50 am	Consistent 3', sets to 4'
Low upcoming tide	NW cross breeze to no wind
Sunny with high patchy fog	Great session

What are your ideal surf conditions? For an older surfer like myself here are mine: sunny skies, warm weather, warm water, a slight offshore breeze or no wind, glassy smooth surface, three to four-foot consistent fast peeling left waves and nobody else in the water. For one hour this morning that was exactly what I had.

I had no expectations for waves this morning; conditions didn’t look great: 6 ft NW swell at ten seconds, 2 ft south swell at 14 seconds, 4 knot south wind and water temperature at 57 degrees. At lease the water had warmed up, but the south wind was discouraging. Strong south winds had messed up the big south swell over the Fourth of July weekend. Driving over the mountain I was mentally prepared to go for a jog on the beach at Stinson if the waves were lousy.

A minus low tide had just turned at 8:00 am. Six surfers were at the Patch, including Russ, Mary and David who rides the Becker board, scratching for some weak two-foot waves. It didn’t look inviting. No one was at the Groin or the Channel. The finger of sand, that had developed a couple of weeks ago, stretched ten yards out into the break marking the north edge of the ebb tide flowing out of the lagoon. At the apex of the Channel small left peeling waves broke in six inches of water. Standing on the seawall feeling discouraged, I noticed a nice rideable left wave half way between the Groin and the Channel, at the exact spot that I was at last Thursday when I connected with several fun waves. Another wave came through, and another and another. My interested picked up, there was hope for some waves, and besides it was a warm morning and I was anxious for some exercise, thus I would go.

“Loren, what’s it like in the lens?” Hans greeted me as I walked up the ramp with my camera hung around my neck. Hans was suited up with board in hand walking towards the beach. He had not bothered to check the surf first; he was just going.

“Pretty crappy!” I replied. He laughed and continued on.

I entered the water just south of the Groin wall and paddled out to the peak I had observed from the seawall. I was pleasantly surprised. Within two minutes a set of three waves came through. I stroked into the second one, turned left into a well-formed wall, drove down the line a long ways before diving into the wave as it broke on shore. Good ride. I looked around and was only fifteen feet from the Groin pole. I paddled back out, waited two minutes, another set came in, and again I connected on another good wave. I paddled out again and within two minutes I did it again, and again and again. On the bigger four-foot waves, I would charged down the line for several yards before the white water would collapse in front of me. On others I was able to drive under the white water back into the swell for another fast section. On two four-foot walls I screamed down the faces the whole way ahead of the breaking curls.

After an hour a young surfer on a balsa laminated longboard joined me. There were plenty of waves for both of us. A few minutes later, Rick a standup surfer paddled over from Seadrift. Rick was at this peak last Thursday with two other standup surfers, Annette and her partner. We chatted and Rick would alert me to approaching sets. The three of us shared the numerous waves that came through. Nearing the two-hour mark I was tiring, the wind had picked up, the waves were becoming mushy due to the raising tide and the surf school hordes were arriving.

Time to call it a day. I moved closer to shore. A good set wave came through. I stroked into it, turned down a four-foot face, stepped to the middle of the board, crouched down, leaned into the wave and shot down a fast curl. The wave kept forming in front of me and I kept going. I could see that I was heading right for the Groin pole. The wave kept standing up and I kept going. I had to do something or I was going to hit the pole. The wave began to suck out in shallow water. I dropped to the bottom, turned sharply into the wave and flew up over the top of a collapsing curl landing in one foot of water. I was now standing in front of the pole. A young guy standing on the Groin wall hooted and gave me a “nice-ride” raised fist salute.

With that I decided to end it on a high note. What a great session.

July 8, 2010 Thursday

Bolinas	Channel
8:50 am to 10:00 am	3' to 4'
High incoming tide	Offshore breeze
Overcast - June gloom	Good session

We caught the best of the recent south swell this morning.

The big south swell that all the Internet sites were hyping came in last Saturday, peaked Sunday and Monday at 4.5 ft at 18 seconds and slowly dropped through the week to 3 ft at 14 seconds today. The much-anticipated swell was a big disappointment. Sunday was the Fourth of July, the big community party day at Bolinas with parade, annual tug-of-war with Stinson Beach and blocked streets. No way I was going to fight all of that for a few waves. Monday, though still a holiday, was going to be the day. The swell would still be at peak and if I came early I should be able to connect with some good waves. I arrived at 7:00 am and the all the parking spaces along Brighton Ave were already taken. The swell was in as predicted but the surf was terrible due to a strong south wind. Blown-out conditions prevailed, choppy water, white caps out at sea, weak mushy waves pushing through the Patch and thirty surfers out. Jack the Dave Sweet team member and I stood on the seawall in disbelief and disappointment. We decided to have breakfast at the Parkside Café in Stinson instead of going out.

The south wind continued blowing Tuesday and Wednesday, but it turned to NW this morning and the south swell was still running. What a pleasant sight from the overlook above the Groin, glassy conditions, perfect left peeling three-foot waves and only three people out. And I know them: David who riders the Becker board, Doug the Audubon Canyon botanist and his friend. While suiting up Mike, a local artist, pulled up in his white pick-up truck with his board in the back and his wetsuit on.

“You’re already suited up,” I commented.

“Hey I live here. I was walking my dog on the beach this morning and saw those good waves and decided to get a few.” And off he headed for the beach.

Doug and his friend returned to their cars after their session. Doug recently moved to Marin from Maryland to take a botanist position with the Audubon Canyon Society. For Doug this is paradise, a great job in a beautiful part of the world and a good surf break nearby with a friendly crowd.

“Doug, I saw plenty of egrets in the trees as I drove by this morning.”

“They’re starting to leave. The little ones are ready to be on their own. They will be gone in a couple of weeks.”

“How many nesting pairs are there?”

“There are 176 egrets in the trees this year and everyone is excited.” That was good news.

As I walked down the beach to the Channel no one was out at the good fast peak. Doug and his friend had left, and David had paddled over to the Patch to join Matt and Hans. Mike was just entering the water. As I paddled out I caught a good side view of Mike crouched down mid-board with his back to the wave locked mid-swell under of the lip of a three-foot curl. On my second wave I connected with a good one. I dropped over the edge of a shoulder high face, stayed high in the curl, stepped to the middle of the board as the wave lined-up in front of me, the curl got steeper. I stepped closer to the nose, crouched down, attempted a cheater-five (stretching out my right foot to the nose while keeping my weight on my back foot), the speed increased, I leaned into the curl getting almost parallel to the wave causing the fin to come out of the water and the nose to pivot sending me flying. What a great ride. I hadn’t had a wave like that in months.

For an hour Mike and I had these waves to ourselves. A set came through and Mike said the first one was mine. I took off on a four-foot wall, dropped to the bottom, the curl threw-out in front of me. I attempted to push ahead of the breaking part of the wave but couldn’t break back into the swell. It finally came over in all its force, I drove into the wave, and it sucked me down and tumbled me through its washing machine before releasing me. I popped up to watch Mike screaming down the second wave of the set, standing mid-board, locked perfectly under the lip of the curl that went on and on. We repeated this with another set. Again I popped up after diving into the white water to see Mike taking off late on another four-foot wall. He jumped to his knees and remained there. He didn’t want to take the time standing. He turned parallel to the wave on his knees with his weight on his hands that were gripped mid-board on the rails. A curtain of water came over him and covered him up. For an instant I could see his body behind a sheet of white water. Then the wave unloaded on him, sending his board flying and driving him to the bottom.

Between sets we chatted about how lousy the surf has been for the last few months and how great today’s waves were. Mike mentioned with no surf his recreation had become searching for petrified sand dollars on the beach. He had found several of them in the sand bank on the Seadrift side of the Channel. My friend Scott had uncovered fossilized sand dollars here over the past few years and sold them at the local arts and crafts gatherings. I mentioned that there had been lots of movement of the sand this year. I could imagine that the ocean and its currents had shifted tons of sands to expose thousands of petrified sand dollars that had been buried for hundreds of years. Meanwhile the good sets continued coming through and Mike and I were elated to take advantage of them.

After an hour Mike claimed he had to go to work. What an artist rushing off to work? “If I don’t discipline myself, nothing gets done.” And with the next wave he paddled in. I caught a couple more and went in exhausted and feeling good about this morning’s session.