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.