1,250 miles and 10 daze later, Xmas is pretty much a watery blur. Spun out over how many waves there were, saw too much to give a detailed report so here's the Readers Digest version...(and I'll warn you its full of whinging, gratuitous Big Wave drama, and not enuff food.)
- Saturday
- Drove 350 miles from SF to Rincon. The Santa Barbara channel had victory-at-sea conditions. Camped at Seacliff on the Rincon Parkway, really exciting on the biggest annual incoming high tide, slamming rocks up on the road, shaking the campsite like an earthquake and real bombblast sound effects, horror stuff, messy giants, I slept like a baby.
- Sunday, Christmas Eve
- Drove south. The mountains above Los Angeles were covered with snow and the city looked beautiful for the first time to me. It was really the City of Angels, you could almost see them sneaking down from the white peaks to sneak a surf.
San Clemente was much warmer and sideshore, but the size was good and building... yum.
- Monday, Christmas Dawn Patrol
- I decided to surf this big peak about a half-mile off the San O point for my Xmas present. I've only just looked at it before from the inside, it breaks way outside on the biggest sets and is usually empty, outside Four Doors.
But I never made it to the Peak. The heavy current kept pulling me back into the impact zone and I didnt quite drown but spent a lot of time underwater and went in swearing. I don't remember ever getting worked that bad in Northern Cali and this was San Onofre whipping my sorry ass!
I was devastated. Luckily the Camino Market was open so I at least got the mega Xmas supper of fresh enchiladas and Mexican XXXX Brandy.
- Tuesday
- I decided I didn't know or want to know how to surf. I bicycled into Tressles and shot photos of Mark Stewart and Herbie Fletcher ripping.
Mark is insane. He talked to me a bit about surfing Pleasure Point with Jay Moriarty and how they were hassled by the local nazis.
They don't even respect Jay! he marvelled.Figures, they all disapppear when it gets big.Yeah, I agreed, they don't respect themselves is all. It wasnt a big day then, was it?
Not at all! he said.
- Wednesday
- The surf jumped up a bit more. Back I went out to that wicked outside peak that wants to kill me, cause no other wave could cure me of being a Wuss now.
Feeling good from the biking, I finally got a bunch of big fast bumpy waves, holding the rail for dear life and just howling! No crowd whatsover out there, you have to take a lot of hits to stay in the peak cause its a bit shifty with lots of cleanup waves. Stayed out till I regained some semblance of confidence, playing matador with the bulls, quoting Big Wave Robert:
Its only water. Its only water.
- Thursday
- Too sore to surf Thursday but its still building. Nice day to do the laundry and bike to Tressles.
- Friday
- It was up to 6-8 foot and still comin' up. Fish or cut bait.
I paddled to the same peak at dawn with a friend who immediately bailed, saying its too Heavy. There was a big Hawaiian and his adult son on "my" spot.
"I'm not going unless my name is engraved on a wave with a formal invitation!" he yelled.Nobody was going. I had to call a wave for him.Between us we took so many hits from cleanup waves none of the guys on the shoulder would come in. I actually broke my Gath helmet.
The last thing I remember before I lost it was the biggest set yet coming in, diving under the first two, losing just enough ground to know the 3rd and biggest one was just going to annihilate me...
I just couldnt take another hit, so I yelled "FUCK IT!" and started paddling. In retrospect that's pretty funny, I was spending all my energy surviving waves instead of surfing them.It was only 8:30 in the morning and I was ruined for the rest of the day, the rest of the year. Somebody drown me.Big Wave secret #1: Always paddle towards shore! It's easier on your body to be a Big Wave Hero than a Wuss.I didn't really catch this macker. It caught me. I stood up without any drop and it got weird. It ruined me. Instead of a sensation of speed, it felt like I was just floating there, standing still. The wave just picked me up higher and higher until I had a panoramic view of three inside lineups and the full beach...and it just kept picking up. I saw the whole inside surface glowing white in the sunrise and little black shadows swivelling their heads at the wave. I'm so high up, I'm looking at my hands to make sure i'm still with my body....really doing nothing at all, locked in trim like a toy.When it finally started coming apart, I tried to get my bearings on the beach. Like Mike Parsons in Gravity Sucks!, I can go in now! No doubt. But the beach is all wrong, I'd surfed clear thro Old Man's! I lost my mind.
- Saturday
- Back to blown-out Rincon, built rock towers and sculptures on the seawall topped with glass suncatchers just to see what would get knocked down during the big dawn tide.
- Sunday
- Drug up camp at 5 am when the entire van started getting covered up. Some of the rockwork was still standing but all the suncatchers were obliterated and the camp was flooded.
Rincon looked good, a full army of recruits running up the Point to catch that long connection to the seawall. Shook hands with Tim Maddux. Funny, I didn't read his posts about campus till today... it was firing 2 days in a row, 3/4 mile rides from the section to Goleta and nearly deserted for the holidaze. But my mind was already destroyed.
Still is. I keep seeing the view from the top.