It's been a lackluster summer for waves in Surf City North. Since mid-July, I've only been in the water a handful of times; those were not great sessions. The pulses we've seen have been short in duration, small and largely gutless. Worse yet, these sporadic hits of lame waves seem to come mid-week, when all the weekend warriors are out of the water.

Yesterday afternoon the wind swell began to build, of course so did the wind! By Sunday dawn, there seemed to be enough bump in the water for a sess. And there was... sorta. I pulled a classic pre-dawn cruise through Santa Cruz, headed North to the Top Of The World. From this vista, hundreds of meters above the ocean, one can see the wind and swell conditions even in darkness.

I could tell it was a holiday weekend by the folks camping at the lookout. Several lumps were buried in sleeping bags, clinging to the edges of the tires on their pickup. Ice chests were strewn about, and damp spots in the dirt nearby indicated an ersatz latrine. My surfmobile spat gravel and dust as I braked to a stop for a Captain Cook. Neither sleeping hump stirred as I check the lines in the ocean. Clearly, the wind swell was here, as lines approached from an extreme angle of 310 degrees. From the ragged and irregular shape and intervals of the lines, it was clear this wasn't a ground swell of any power.

Still, wind swell is better than no swell, and is surfable. So I took heart, and planned the assault. Which break would be optimal with the conditions: extreme low tide, NW wind about to build, and steep NW wind swell? Nothing came to mind as a clear standout choice, so I went on tour looking.

The breaks beneath the Top of The World can be fun, but they are completely exposed to the winds. I could already see a white cap or three in the distance, so I knew these spots would be onshore and howling within the hour.

Next stop was the beach breaks at Highlanders. Here the waves were coming in, but there were no sandbars to force them to peel. With a straight approach to shore, each wave closed with a whimper. Clearly not the place for a surf session on this morning.

Next stop would have been Wet and Slippery. This place is at the bottom of a very steep and treacherous cliff, which is at the end of a long hike through fallow fields of weeds. But it too is exposed to the wind. Even though it is a magnet for wind swell, I judged the hike in for a Captain Cook to be a waste of time.

So I pulled into the parking space at Dave's Place. The Big Reef doesn't like really low tides, and curiously the swell wasn't hitting it. But the North Cove was pulled all available waves, with nonstop breakers scanning the cove. However, the waves were crumbling, falling apart, reforming, and lame. And all this was randomly occurring throughout the cove. There was no way to find a lineup, or predict where the next one would break.

Ditto the broad beach at the Big Lagoon. Random, messy, windy conditions discouraged me from atop the small hill by the railroad tracks. I proceeded to Monster Reef, where I walked to the top of the hill that descends into the place. From there I could see fields of kelp floating across the lineup, waiting to snag any surfboard fins that might come by. The waves were barely rideable; I bet AstroMan was there surfing shortly after I bailed.

At Kook's Kove, the sheer improbability of the situation was never more evident. The knee-high waves came at odd moments, spread apart from one another by short intervals, and crumbling on the shallow reef. I walked back to the highway and drove back to town.

The best looking spot I saw was at Weasel Reef. Several young short board shredders were already surfing, and more were preparing to surf in the lot. Every few minutes a wave broke, offering short barrels and shorter shoulders. These guys knew how to maximize the conditions, and they made the waves look almost decent. I thought about snapping some pix for the Chronicles. But the dawn sun was curtained by a thick wall of fog south of my position, and the light really and truly sucked.

Steamer Lane looked ridiculous. In spite of this, several folks were out, sitting in the midst of vast kelp patches, waiting for knee-high waves that came every 10 minutes.

Cowells was rideable, with almost 100 long boarders maxing the shin-high rollers. A school of student surfers was preparing to paddle to the lineup from the beach in front of the Dream Inn.

On the East Side, Pleasure, 38th, Jack's, and all the breaks to Capitola sported weekend wannabees on expensive logs. More expensive Yukons and Expeditions packed the parking spaces, most with stickers saying things like "Nor Cal," "Eddie Would Go," "O'Neill," "Old Farts Rule," or "Longboard Union."

As I type this, the Steamer Cam is showing a capped ocean in the background, a tide push that has the knee-high waves approaching waist high, and three-dozen surfers eagerly waiting a ride. At least three paddlers drop into each wave, which dumps them straight down as the lip falls apart. There are no shoulders, no powerful walls, no barrels, and hope for anything better today or tomorrow.

Pretty dismal account, no? Or maybe I am just way too particular. After all, I've written multiple columns in the past about how to "Surf Ugly." But this is beyond ugly, this is dismal and ridiculous. But Labor Day marks the unofficial end to summer, and the next season is autumn. Fall typically brings the first north west ground swells, so there is much hope for the future. For now, I'll hang at home and celebrate the holiday with family and friends.

Note: All the pix in this column are from the breaks described, but from past days when the waves were happening.

CU Out There,

DogMan