So I missed it the other
morning. After trying out my new
Pug/Hull with the mini-Simmons fin set up in the mushy waist highs of the
evening glass off the night before, I was keen to have another test run. I’d set my alarm for the Dawn Patrol with
full intentions of catching the morning tide.
Only I was tired. Dog tired. Bone tired.
Tiiirrrred. And when the clarion
sounded at 5:00 am, this tired old mutt…rolled over and shut the damn thing
off. The waves weren’t that good the
night before so I had no expectations of them being any better in the morning. That was my reasoning. I could always hit the high tide later in the
morning, after all, what was the sense of dragging my butt out of a warm and
snuggly blanketed bed. Mon dieu. Classic surfer error: When you expect it to
be junky and marginal, that’s when the gods will laugh and throw an epic
session at you.
I crested the hill 4 hours later,
sipping my large DD latte with whole milk and sugar…and nearly cried. Lines.
Corduroy to the horizon. Big, overhead
lines. Still sweeping in despite the
tide being too high. I’d missed it. I’d reeeally missed it.
I parked, exited my car, and started
on foot down to the bluff overlook. The
surfer trudging back up the hill to his car, when I asked how it had been,
replied, “FUnnn!” He smiled that glazed
and sated smile of pothead after their third or fourth joint…that Chesire Cat
grin that knows something you don’t.
Fudge. I’d missed it.
Gazing out over the break, I
witnessed 3 surfers still catching the bigger set waves that hadn’t mushed out
completely. It was overhead and glassy
still. The low tide session must have
been epic; I’d missed it. Damn.
Now, I’d surfed the incoming tide at
this spot intermittently over the years.
As the tide fills in, the peak keeps shifting but if you know where to
be, and get yourself into position you can still get some fun rides in the
rapidly changing conditions. It ain’t
the long lines reeling down the sandbar across the real spot that you get at low-tide, but it’s a serviceable, if
fickle, break.
Actually, it’s two breaks. I like to call them: “Waikiki ’s”
& “Shorepounds.” Two diametrically
opposed personalities even though they exist on the same stretch of beach.
Waikiki’s is the outside cloudbreak
that still tops off just inside the main break, at high tide on swells of chest
high and up. It’s a weird funky, often
frustrating wave. At first glance it
looks beautiful when the big peaks start spilling over way outside. But it is weak and mushy because of the deepening
water. Often it peters out, a teasing
peak that just after you hit your bottom turn you feel all the oomph going out
of it and the promising wall lined up ahead of you, just hits the deeper
channel and dies. On bigger peaks, if
you catch the right one, you can use your momentum to glide through the dead
section and hopefully catch up to the reform on the inside. Sometimes the peak will shift as you ride it
as it rolls over the slowly sloping bottom and different sandbars. You might start off going right, then turn
back and go left on the same wave as it rolls along. Sometimes you might even go right, left, then
right again. It’s a weird, but fun
wave…sometimes. Most times it’s just
soft and mushy and frustrating. I’ve
been riding a longboard there the last few years as the extra length and heft
helps connect the sections. With the SUP
explosion of the last couple of years, it has become THE spot to stand up
paddle. Soft long, long, loooong rides
as the wave slowly rolls in, like Waikiki , is
perfect for a SUP.
“Shorepounds” is a whole ‘nuther
animal. As the tide fills in completely,
you have only the outside option of soft Waikiki’s, or the dredging, dumping,
mostly closed out inside reform that slams on the inside sandbars. This wave too, is deceiving. Usually half the size of the outside peak, it
packs three times the punch. It’s a bit
unnerving sitting in the deep channel, green water directly below you, as you
wait for the next set, then upon turning, the wave jacks in a split second and
you see churned up frothy sandy water boiling on the bar that might be only a
foot or two under the surface. It
demands quickness. That’s the odd thing
about smaller waves that break hard and fast, they leave no margin for
error. You gotta commit, pop, and make
the drop in less than a second, lest you auger and (usually) get bounced and
slammed off the bottom. The wave may be
only waist to chest high and breaking on sand, but if you’re not quick, or you
take the wrong one, it’ll hurt you.
Choosing the right wave is difficult.
Sometimes as they draw up suddenly, they look perfect…until you’re about
halfway down and you look in horror to see the closeout section rear in front
of you. Now, for a quick and snappy kid
on his little thruster, the wave might be really fun…but I’m no longer quick
and snappy, or young, and the wave for me can be a little scary…yet
exhilarating if I do catch the right
one.
So I’d missed it this morning. And the evening session was not an option as
I had to work. I made the best of it,
and paddled out anyway. Caught a few of
the last large but gutless peaks at the main break, then paddled in a bit with
the tide and started riding Waikiki’s.
My best wave must have been about three hundred yards, though it was mostly
a just stand there and try to stay with the peak affair. Still, it was pretty fun riding for such a
long distance, not very common on the East Coast. I could almost feel the breath of tradewinds
and the dulcet tones of ukulele music wafting out to me in the lineup.
As the tide pushed me into
Shorepounds though, my focus changed from carefree gentle long rides, to trying
not to hurt myself on the shoulder high slammers that were whumphing and
boiling on the inside bar. Scary that
the bigger sets were actually safer, as they allowed a little more time to get
into and to the bottom, yet as they drew off the sand and stood up and began to
heave over in the thigh deep shallows, my heart would creep up into my throat.
Yikes!
I survived somehow though, caught my
last wave, an air drop to closeout thumper, then let the soup and the tide push
me the rest of the way in to the beach.
Walking back to my car, I thought, well, okay, so I missed Epic Dawn
Patrol cuz I was too old and lazy to drag my butt outta the bed. But, I did get to experience an adventurous
and ephemeral session at two fickle and challenging breaks that I’ve been
surfing on and off for nearly 40 years.
And other than those two SUPpers that paddled out at Waikiki ’s,
I’d had the entire session to myself.
It was sunny and warm and glorious
day and on the bluff overlook I paused to watch the paddleboarders catching
their long rides, thinking, I gotta get me one of those. But I’d had my fun. Heart warming Waikiki ’s;
heart thumping Shorepounds. All in the
same session. Not bad.
I could post a picture, or tell you
exactly where these two waves are, and when they break best, and the right
conditions and all that…but then, you know what I’d have to do to you…
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