How do you blog about a day that was marginal? How to explain that it's worth rising early on a Saturday and driving 72 miles just to catch a handful of waves that wouldn't be overhead to a four-year-old, such as yesterday? Or even worth it had it been completely flat, which, gratefully, it wasn't?
The concept of a surf park with man-made waves doesn't appeal to me. Too predictable; too assured. It misses the point. On the surface, it's all about riding waves, but really it's about immersion in nature. Wild, unpredictable, quirky, beautiful nature. Why is a surf session so spiritually cleansing? Because it demands total focus and attention, no distractions from life ashore. It's totally in the moment.
I didn't set my alarm yesterday, figuring if I was awake early, I'd go surf. As the early morning was breaking, I did a quick check of the surf cams on my iPhone. Not much showing. Go back to sleep. Still awake 15 minutes later, I rolled out of bed, sipped a coffee and yogurt, then hopped in the car for the hour's drive with few expectations.
I was greeted by sporadic, waist-high waves and a rippled surface, approaching light chop. But the waves showed some shape and were hollow, rather than crumbling. Buoyed by water temperature reports of 75 degrees and up, I figured there was little down side to slipping into my trunks and into the water.
I started at the main peak area - pictured above - but the lulls were long and the size pretty meager. There appeared to be a little more energy down below the Park at LG1, so I swam a couple hundred yards south and found some playful waves, amongst the lulls.
It was peaky enough for some length to the rides and the larger waves, creeping into the chest-high range, were hollow enough for even a little sunlit tube time.
An hour was plenty to feed the Jones that had been creeping in after a couple of dry weeks. Maybe only five good waves, with another half-dozen marginal rides, interspersed. But an hour of respite and replenishment.
