Contest Day
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Overview of the break. This is just a small set. Contest Day
Saturday, January 12, 2008. The contest at Mavericks went off, as I am sure you have seen, heard or read. But this column isn't about that high-profile event, it's about something much more local. There is a point of departure, however.
Vital Things
When the call goes for the contest, you can be assured of a few vital things for surfers:
I Don't Like to Watch
For me, surfing isn't a spectator sport. If there are waves, I want to be riding them, not watching others from the shore. As soon as I learned of the call for the contest, I knew Saturday morning was going to be an excellent dawn patrol.
East West
But I'm not exactly a hellman, not by any means. Sometimes I am up for more of a beating in the ocean than other times. I'm good up to about 12 to 15 feet on the face, but have to take my risks sparingly. Gauging the overall conditions, and checking Steamer Lane at 5AM on Saturday morning, I decided to head east instead of west. Remember, that's the way the coast runs in the town of Santa Cruz, not north-south as you might expect.
No River Mouth
Along the way, I stopped at the River Mouth, hoping against odds that it would be breaking for wave riders. A few of the requisite conditions were there, big westerly swell, a bit of a bar, but the tide was too high. Though the waves were peeling, the sections were so fast they bordered on closeouts. Too bad, as I really wanted to get some water time at this elusive break.
Captain's
Continuing east, I eventually settled on a place I like to call the Captain's Table. This break is at the end of a long road that dead ends at the ocean. There's a parking lot at the edge of the cliff from which you can check the break below. Wooden stairs lead to the bottom, where large rocks attempt to hold the ocean in containment.
Comparing with Peter
It was still dark when I got there, but I was not the only one checking it. Peter and I compared notes as we timed the sets, judged the lineup, counted waves, and figured our strategy. Pete was raised in this area, and his mother has a house in the neighborhood. He departed to change at la casa; I stripped and donned the fulll body rubber suit in the parking lot.
First, Not Last
Though I was the first one to paddle into the ocean, it wasn't long before I was joined by others. Not only that, but the paddle to the lineup was itself a lesson in the power of the ocean. Forced to duckdive multiple double overhead waves, I was impressed with the raw savage power of this swell. BOOOM! Each wave dragged me down the coast toward Capitola and back toward the rocky cliff.
Blotted Lights
With perserverance, I made it to the outside and began to angle for my first ride. By this time many others were checking it from the cliff, or proceeding down the stairs, or paddling to join me. It was still an hour to sunrise, and the waves came upon me as dark foreboding walls of blackness, blotting the lights from Pacific Grove and Monterey.
Tremendous Torque
I caught one anyway; it was worth it. All the power of the waves that I felt while paddling to the lineup was suddenly thrusting me shoreward with tremendous torque. I set a line and broke the speed limit going across the face along the cliff. It was a race with fast sections; I won a few battles but ultimately lost the war.
Inevitable
Now I was inside, down the line, paddling back, and faced with yet another endless set. The waves bore onto me relentlessly, but what was I to do? I paddled and dodged and dived for all I was worth, all the while being dragged east. Soon I was at the next break down the coast, so I went with the inevitable. Forget about paddling back to where I started, just find the next peak and ride it.
Capitola or Beyond
This is what I did for the next thirty minutes. Ride a wave at the current break, paddle back while being dragged along the cliff. Arrive at the next break and ride another. I figured I could keep this going at least until I arrived at Capitola, maybe even further. Finally, I got out at a convenient staircase that took me up the cliff, then I walked along Opal Cliffs to my auto.
Picture Time
The sun was rising, and the numbers of surfers in the water was impressive. I decided to ditch the board and get the camera. It was time to get some pictures of the events for this column. I changed quickly, then stood on the cliff and snapped. I like surfing better, but photographing surfing is at least a close second.
Winter Surf
The swell promised to extend through the weekend, and maybe even beyond. When I got home, I clicked into the webcast of the contest at Mavericks. While editing and retouching pictures for this column, I followed the semifinals and the finals of the action up the coast at Pillar Point. And still there was Sunday to consider, another opportunity for wonderful winter surf.
Dawn patrol.
CU Out There,
DogMan
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