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.