November 18, 2009 Wednesday

Bolinas	Groin
9:30 am to 10:50 am	4' to 6', sets to 8'
High upcoming tide (6.1 ft at 11:00 am)	Stiff offshore winds (NNW)
Sunny, windy and cold	Thrilling session

The waves were intimidating this morning. I entered the water by launching myself into three-foot waves that were breaking in front of the ramp. I waited for a lull between waves, jumped on my board and started paddling like mad. A wave broke in front of me. I pushed the nose of the board down, went under the white water, the surge of the wave was pulling me back to the ramp and then the flow of the water running back down the ramp pushed me out and over the next incoming wave.

Once safely pass the shore break I paddled to the peak north of the Groin to where Claude and Tom were waiting for the next set. Claude gave me that “you should have been here an hour ago” speech. At 7:00 am when he entered the water the waves had better shape and there was less of a crowd. He raved about the quality of the rides, insisted they were better at the furthest peak in the Channel and paddled off to go out there. I saw a set of big waves coming through and paddled out to meet them. A massive eight-foot wall of water was in front of me. I had not seen that much water in a wave in months. I was intimidated. A huge swell stretched for a 100 yards from the Channel to the south seawall. I paddled over it, turned around and watched it explode from the back with a deafening roar.

The weather had changed. A low-pressure front pushed in yesterday afternoon bringing in rain and a strong swell. At 6:00 am the NOAA buoy reported nine-foot NW swells at 12 seconds, 19-knot NNW winds and a dropping water temperature of 52 degrees. My first glance of Bolinas from the top of the Panoramic Highway was a solid “V” of white water at the Channel. Maybe the waves would be too big. At Bolinas all the parking spots were filled. I had to drive around the tennis court before a parking place opened up. Mary, Doug, Hans and Claude’s cars were there, and Martha was suiting up. The number cars told me that the other surf spots, Salmon Creek, Dillon’s and Ocean Beach were too big and only Bolinas had rideable waves.

I almost didn’t go out, in fact I had talked myself out of it. Hans stated that the high tide was knocking down the waves at the Patch and that the water was cold. I was hearing this standing in a cold wind. That was it I would not go out but take pictures instead.

“Are you going out?” asked Mary who had just come up the ramp from her session.

“No,” I replied. “I’m tired and have things to do.”

“Boy, that doesn’t sound like you!” she stated. “I had a great time. It was like you write about. I was on this head high wall, emerald-green color with sunlight dancing off a textured face and light shinning through the lip of the wave with spray arching off the top. As Hans said, it was a green-lip wave.”

I went up to the overlook on Terrace Road and changed my mind. The waves at the Patch were small but the Channel and Groin looked great. The wind had died down, the surface was glassy, and the sun was warm and rider after rider streaked down these beautiful peaks. I had to go.

For twenty minutes I paddled around looking for the best spot and tried for several waves but missed them. Finally I connected on a well-shaped left peak. I could tell the wave had power by the amount of water it was drawing out. I stroked into it, pushed the nose of my board over the ledge, jumped up, cut left and looked down a long, head-high, thin fast peeling curl. I leaned into it to climb up the face, stepped to the middle of the board, locked the rail under the lip, took one more step forward, crouched down and screamed across the face. I didn’t move and on and on I went until I pulled out over the top as the wave broke ten feet from shore. What a great ride.

After catching a few close outs, I moved inside and north with David who rides the Becker board where it was less intimidating. Within a few minutes David and I caught three or four screamers across the inside shore break. On one fast ride, just as the curl was about to pitch, a two-foot backwash wave from the south seawall hit and sent the lip of the wave and me four feet straight up. I came crashing down, landed on the deck of my board and fell off. The impact hurt but I was ok.

Sitting on the inside, I caught a great view of an expert surfer connecting on a beautiful wave at the furthest Channel peak. He took off late on an overhead wave and with his back to the wave he tucked into a small ball, grabbed the outside rail, ducked under the curl and disappeared. Three seconds later he popped out still locked in the curl. Everybody hooted.

Later, I dropped down a curl that hollowed out in front of me. I hesitated an instant and locked into the bottom of the wave and raced just ahead of the curl. I looked up; the lip was two feet over my head and was coming over me. I coasted out in front of the wave as it broke. For a brief instant I saw a perfectly shaped hollow wave with sunlight dancing off the face and the lip arching over me. It was a beautiful sight.

The upcoming tide caused the waves in front of the ramp to increase in size and power. “How am I going to get in?” On shore I chatted with a couple of younger surfers about their strategy for getting to the ramp. For ten minutes we watched a group of four surfers sitting outside the ramp waiting for a lull in the four-foot waves crashing into the seawalls.

“You know, I’m an old man. I don’t have to prove my virility,” I announced to my young companions. “I’m going to take the easy route and walk around to Wharf Road and through town.” Which I did. It was a long walk but it was free of intimidation.