July 8, 2010 Thursday

Bolinas	Channel
8:50 am to 10:00 am	3' to 4'
High incoming tide	Offshore breeze
Overcast - June gloom	Good session

We caught the best of the recent south swell this morning.

The big south swell that all the Internet sites were hyping came in last Saturday, peaked Sunday and Monday at 4.5 ft at 18 seconds and slowly dropped through the week to 3 ft at 14 seconds today. The much-anticipated swell was a big disappointment. Sunday was the Fourth of July, the big community party day at Bolinas with parade, annual tug-of-war with Stinson Beach and blocked streets. No way I was going to fight all of that for a few waves. Monday, though still a holiday, was going to be the day. The swell would still be at peak and if I came early I should be able to connect with some good waves. I arrived at 7:00 am and the all the parking spaces along Brighton Ave were already taken. The swell was in as predicted but the surf was terrible due to a strong south wind. Blown-out conditions prevailed, choppy water, white caps out at sea, weak mushy waves pushing through the Patch and thirty surfers out. Jack the Dave Sweet team member and I stood on the seawall in disbelief and disappointment. We decided to have breakfast at the Parkside Café in Stinson instead of going out.

The south wind continued blowing Tuesday and Wednesday, but it turned to NW this morning and the south swell was still running. What a pleasant sight from the overlook above the Groin, glassy conditions, perfect left peeling three-foot waves and only three people out. And I know them: David who riders the Becker board, Doug the Audubon Canyon botanist and his friend. While suiting up Mike, a local artist, pulled up in his white pick-up truck with his board in the back and his wetsuit on.

“You’re already suited up,” I commented.

“Hey I live here. I was walking my dog on the beach this morning and saw those good waves and decided to get a few.” And off he headed for the beach.

Doug and his friend returned to their cars after their session. Doug recently moved to Marin from Maryland to take a botanist position with the Audubon Canyon Society. For Doug this is paradise, a great job in a beautiful part of the world and a good surf break nearby with a friendly crowd.

“Doug, I saw plenty of egrets in the trees as I drove by this morning.”

“They’re starting to leave. The little ones are ready to be on their own. They will be gone in a couple of weeks.”

“How many nesting pairs are there?”

“There are 176 egrets in the trees this year and everyone is excited.” That was good news.

As I walked down the beach to the Channel no one was out at the good fast peak. Doug and his friend had left, and David had paddled over to the Patch to join Matt and Hans. Mike was just entering the water. As I paddled out I caught a good side view of Mike crouched down mid-board with his back to the wave locked mid-swell under of the lip of a three-foot curl. On my second wave I connected with a good one. I dropped over the edge of a shoulder high face, stayed high in the curl, stepped to the middle of the board as the wave lined-up in front of me, the curl got steeper. I stepped closer to the nose, crouched down, attempted a cheater-five (stretching out my right foot to the nose while keeping my weight on my back foot), the speed increased, I leaned into the curl getting almost parallel to the wave causing the fin to come out of the water and the nose to pivot sending me flying. What a great ride. I hadn’t had a wave like that in months.

For an hour Mike and I had these waves to ourselves. A set came through and Mike said the first one was mine. I took off on a four-foot wall, dropped to the bottom, the curl threw-out in front of me. I attempted to push ahead of the breaking part of the wave but couldn’t break back into the swell. It finally came over in all its force, I drove into the wave, and it sucked me down and tumbled me through its washing machine before releasing me. I popped up to watch Mike screaming down the second wave of the set, standing mid-board, locked perfectly under the lip of the curl that went on and on. We repeated this with another set. Again I popped up after diving into the white water to see Mike taking off late on another four-foot wall. He jumped to his knees and remained there. He didn’t want to take the time standing. He turned parallel to the wave on his knees with his weight on his hands that were gripped mid-board on the rails. A curtain of water came over him and covered him up. For an instant I could see his body behind a sheet of white water. Then the wave unloaded on him, sending his board flying and driving him to the bottom.

Between sets we chatted about how lousy the surf has been for the last few months and how great today’s waves were. Mike mentioned with no surf his recreation had become searching for petrified sand dollars on the beach. He had found several of them in the sand bank on the Seadrift side of the Channel. My friend Scott had uncovered fossilized sand dollars here over the past few years and sold them at the local arts and crafts gatherings. I mentioned that there had been lots of movement of the sand this year. I could imagine that the ocean and its currents had shifted tons of sands to expose thousands of petrified sand dollars that had been buried for hundreds of years. Meanwhile the good sets continued coming through and Mike and I were elated to take advantage of them.

After an hour Mike claimed he had to go to work. What an artist rushing off to work? “If I don’t discipline myself, nothing gets done.” And with the next wave he paddled in. I caught a couple more and went in exhausted and feeling good about this morning’s session.