June 6, 2012 Wednesday

Bolinas	Groin
9:30 am to 10:45 am	2' to 3', sets to 3.5'
Low upcoming tide (-1.8 ft at 7:30 am)	Stiff NW cross wind
Sunny with high clouds	Fun session

"Wow, look at that fast peeling left at the Groin," I said to myself. "Maybe I should go out there." I had just taken a few photos of Hank, DB the Safeway checker and one other surfer at the Patch. The tide was super low, all of the Patch reef rocks were exposed and Hank and DB were a quarter mile offshore at a peak twenty yards beyond the outside rock. Remnants of this weekend's south swell were still present. The waves were small lines that stretched cross the outside of the Patch reef. The sets were infrequent and Hank and DB had difficulty catching them and when they did, their rides were slow. They had to go straight just to stay in the waves.

A long paddle for slow waves didn't look inviting. But I was determined to go out; it was a sunny warm day and I needed the exercise. I had decided to join them when I noticed the nice peeling lefts at the Groin -- long clean lines that continuously broke left in shallow water. With the tide coming up, the Groin waves would get better. They were breaking a bit too fast, but there was a spot where the waves eased up an instance due to a deep spot in the water, and then they would build up again into a small fast peeling shore break. Beautiful little curls, nobody out there, and shallow water where I could walk out to the break. "I'm going."

One other surfer entered the water before me and paddled out to the Channel. I stood on the beach trying to line up that edge I had seen earlier. The bottom had changed. The current coming out of the lagoon now made a near 90-degree turn at the end of the Groin wall and ran parallel to the shore. This caused the Groin peak to shift twenty yards north of the Groin pole instead of its usual 15 yards south of it. I lined up the edge with the old brown wood house that hung high on the cliff. It became my marker.

By the time I paddled out the other surfer had moved to the edge. I had seen him here before several times -- late 30s, big, stocky, butch haircut and no tattoos (unlike most kids today) and I knew he was a good surfer. We both floundered for a while trying to figure out the waves. Most waves closed out by the time I stood up. Then the other guy connected. He paddled at an angle, stroke into a three-foot wall, jumped up, positioned mid-swell, crouched down on the tail-block and held on. Grabbing the outside rail with his back to the wave he leaned into the white water that broke in front of him to quickly drive back into the swell. Now he was at the edge -- meaning the wave eased up allowing him to stand up, climb to the top of the curl and to shoot through another section for a long curl ride. He had found the take-off point and I now knew how it was done -- get onto the edge, paddle at an angle to be already moving left when catching the wave, start paddling when the swell is flat to get into the wave early, stay high in the curl and lock the rail under the lip.

Then I connected. I paddled for a wave that I was sure would close out, but it didn't. I was up early, high in the curl and sailed through the first section. I cutback, the wave built up and an inside curl took shape. I pushed into it, dropped over the edge, cut left again and shot through a second curl. What a good ride. I paddled out to the line-up and there was another one -- I went for it and scored on a second good wave. Now I was into it and managed to rapidly catch three more good ones.

After an hour, Jeff the Dillon Beach boat mechanic came out on his beautiful hollow wood board that he had made.

"Jeff, Dillon Beach must be horrible with all this wind."

"A total mess."

"Have you been getting any waves?"

"No. This is my third surf session in three weeks -- between work, wind and lousy surf."

"So work is good? Didn't salmon season just start?" Fishing brings crowds from the Central Valley -- all towing their fishing boats to launch at Lawson's Landing at Dillon Beach.

"Yes, and everybody needs his boat fixed." Jeff was in a steep peaks and long valleys kind of business.

"Jeff, one more and I'm going in; I'm freezing," I said about ten minutes later. Then I dropped into that 'one more wave' syndrome -- nothing came, the wind kept blowing me out of the impact zone and when I did go for a wave, I missed it.

"Never, never mention 'one more wave'," Jeff said to me after floundering around for twenty minutes. "It never happens." Finally after moving north and way in, a set came through, I was in position, stroked into the first wave, climbed high in the curl and cruised through one more fun section, straightened out as the wave broke and headed for shore.

The heat of the sun thawed me out. I drove into town for a coffee and stopped at the farm stand on the edge of town to buy some fresh chard and Romaine lettuce. Driving up the Panoramic Highway I enjoyed the spectacular view of a wind-swept, white capped sea. As usual, it was just another beautiful morning in Marin.