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.