Bolinas | Patch |
10:00 am to 11:00 am | 2', sets to 3' |
Mid dropping tide | Cold, stiff east cross wind |
Patchy sun - high wispy clouds | Exercise session |
Walking down the ramp to the Groin with my camera in hand, I spotted Hank coming towards me. I had seen his car in the parking area with his board still strapped to the roof.
"Well?" I asked.
"I'm going to wait it out for another hour. There's not much happening at the Channel. Yesterday I had a great time at the Patch, so with the tide going out, I'm hoping that it will start firing. There's nothing there now, but I'm sure it will pick up."
We walked down to the Groin to check out the rides of the seven surfers at the Channel. Some of the regulars were out there - Mary, David who rides the Becker board, Ray the Petaluma fireman, Mark the archaeologist and stand-up guys Russ and Frank. Hank was right. While we stood there, no one got a decent ride. The tide had turned a couple of hours earlier and already the current was flowing out of the lagoon. The only decent waves were on the Seadrift side - the other side of the outgoing current.
Hank and I walked back to the Seawall to check out the Patch. Not much was happening. Every once in awhile a set would come through looking like it had some possibilities. One stand-up surfer was out there - an older gentleman about my age. We could tell he was a beginner, but he did catch a couple of "ankle snappers" - small, slow and close to the rocks. That's him on one of the bigger ones in the above photo.
"Well I'm going to do it," Hank announced after watching a couple more sets come through.
"I'll join you."
Our theory was that while we suited up and paddled out to the far peak at the Patch, the tide and conditions would have changed and we would be in the water when the good waves started coming through. But it never happened. We paddled around catching the same ankle high waves that we saw an hour earlier.
I managed to catch two decent rights. Both were two-footers where the wind held up the curls and the wave continuously peeled to the right. Hank on his big paddling machine caught several waves. I caught a good sideways view of him on a good one - a set wave to the south of the Patch reef. Hank saw it coming, paddled south and was in position when the wave jumped up. He dug hard and coasted into a picturesque three-foot wave. He dropped down a translucent green peak, cruised across a waist-high face, cutback and then the wave died. One drop was all there was - which was typical of this morning's waves.
The real story was the COLD. Winter had finally set in. Before we went out, Hank had mentioned how fortunate we were with this warm weather. Here it was February and the sun was out, winds offshore and only a slight texture on the water. But once we paddled out, we felt the wind and it was freezing and it was constant. Cold air continuously moved over our hands, arms and bodies. Moving air causes evaporation - something I remembered from my high school physics class. And evaporation sucks the heat out of the under lying object - like our bodies. After an hour my hands were turning numb; I was ready to go in. Hank, who was fifteen yards south of me, gestured one more wave. I agreed and caught a small wave in the next set, rode it on my knees so that I could keep leaning on the nose to stay in the wave. Hank connected with a wave in the next set and rode it all the way in.
Of course, we agreed that it was all worth it. Good exercise, beautiful scenery and good company. Hank summed up the morning. "The hot tube is sure going to feel good when I get home."
We walked down to the Groin to check out the rides of the seven surfers at the Channel. Some of the regulars were out there - Mary, David who rides the Becker board, Ray the Petaluma fireman, Mark the archaeologist and stand-up guys Russ and Frank. Hank was right. While we stood there, no one got a decent ride. The tide had turned a couple of hours earlier and already the current was flowing out of the lagoon. The only decent waves were on the Seadrift side - the other side of the outgoing current.
Hank and I walked back to the Seawall to check out the Patch. Not much was happening. Every once in awhile a set would come through looking like it had some possibilities. One stand-up surfer was out there - an older gentleman about my age. We could tell he was a beginner, but he did catch a couple of "ankle snappers" - small, slow and close to the rocks. That's him on one of the bigger ones in the above photo.
"Well I'm going to do it," Hank announced after watching a couple more sets come through.
"I'll join you."
Our theory was that while we suited up and paddled out to the far peak at the Patch, the tide and conditions would have changed and we would be in the water when the good waves started coming through. But it never happened. We paddled around catching the same ankle high waves that we saw an hour earlier.
I managed to catch two decent rights. Both were two-footers where the wind held up the curls and the wave continuously peeled to the right. Hank on his big paddling machine caught several waves. I caught a good sideways view of him on a good one - a set wave to the south of the Patch reef. Hank saw it coming, paddled south and was in position when the wave jumped up. He dug hard and coasted into a picturesque three-foot wave. He dropped down a translucent green peak, cruised across a waist-high face, cutback and then the wave died. One drop was all there was - which was typical of this morning's waves.
The real story was the COLD. Winter had finally set in. Before we went out, Hank had mentioned how fortunate we were with this warm weather. Here it was February and the sun was out, winds offshore and only a slight texture on the water. But once we paddled out, we felt the wind and it was freezing and it was constant. Cold air continuously moved over our hands, arms and bodies. Moving air causes evaporation - something I remembered from my high school physics class. And evaporation sucks the heat out of the under lying object - like our bodies. After an hour my hands were turning numb; I was ready to go in. Hank, who was fifteen yards south of me, gestured one more wave. I agreed and caught a small wave in the next set, rode it on my knees so that I could keep leaning on the nose to stay in the wave. Hank connected with a wave in the next set and rode it all the way in.
Of course, we agreed that it was all worth it. Good exercise, beautiful scenery and good company. Hank summed up the morning. "The hot tube is sure going to feel good when I get home."
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