Labor Day
Sunday - day 74
Brett's call interrupted the movie that my wife and I were watching on the Saturday night of Labor Day weekend.
"So, my neighbor says that it's going to be like 10 feet tomorrow." He said.
"Is that right?"
"That's what he says"
"And where did he hear about this?"
"Don't know"
On the other end of the line, Brett was browsing the Internet. Sure enough, the orange county paper was predicting 6-12 foot waves on their web report. Other sources seemed to conflict the report, most notably the swell prediction models made by the computers at NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
"So, there could be good surf, great surf, or just plain dangerous." Brett said.
"But, no matter what, if your neighbor has beard about it, there will be a million people out there."
"My neighbor thinks that the size will scare everyone away."
"Yea? Is he going?"
"Well, Yes. But he figures that everyone else will stay home."
"Not likely."
On my drive down the Pacific Coast Highway to Seventeenth Street, I passed Bolsa Chica State Beach, where a line of cars stacked back a quarter mile from the gates on both sides of the road.
I got to my usually parking spot at 6 am sharply, a full quarter hour before sunlight. Cars were already parked in waiting. Surfers dressed on the sidewalks in groups of twos and threes. I struggled to find a parking space within a block of the beach.
The surf was good. The big waves were head and a half high. I caught some very fun rides with on my shortboard, which I had brought out from several months of hibernation in my garage.
I decided to start bringing the shortboard on better days. The rides I had reminded me of the advantages of shortboards. They are fast and turn on a dime, allowing for a much more aggressive style of surfing. Of course, there are disadvantages. Smaller surfboards are less boy ant, and require more paddling to catch waves.
We stayed in the water nearly two hours, finally leaving at 8am, when the crowd was so thick that it was uncomfortably claustrophobic just sitting in the water.
Monday say slightly smaller surf, still very good, but with far less surfers.
Labor day weekend had brought a heat wave to Southern California. At my house in Anaheim during the day, temperatures topped 105 degrees. Even in the beach cities, temperatures reached 90 degrees just a few blocks from the water. Nevertheless, thousands of people swarmed to the beach for relief.
A sewage spill following a power outage leaked 13,000 gallons of sewage into the ocean at the Santa Ana River mouth, and produced a beach closure from the river jetties up to the state beach, pushing surfers and beach goers alike out of the area. They diverted north to Huntington Pier and south to Newport.
Surfers celebrated the arrival of the swell as some timely good waves on a holiday weekend. But, the size of the waves caused swimming conditions that were dangerous for the average swimmer. Lifeguards at the city beach in Huntington beach reported performing over 4,000 "preventative actions" - mostly warning swimmers about the hazardous conditions.
I saw Venice out in the water on Monday. She was wearing a baseball cap, strapped to her spring suit. "Man, the sun was so bright yesterday. The glare was killing me. I ended up with a migraine all day long."
Then she paddled off into the crowd.
After weeks of surfing every day, my arms finally gave out. I got caught inside the breaking waves, unable to make it past the break to the line up of surfers. I found myself caught in strong northbound current, which pulled me up the beach. I watched two lifeguard towers go by on shore, as I fought the blue and white foamy soup for what seemed like ages. Every paddle was a searing rip in the torn fibers of my arms.
When I finally made it through, I sighed a breath of relief, sat up, and waited. I was tired and knew that I was facing a long walk back to my truck.
i walked back to 10, caught two more waves and went in. I let several sets pass me by, watching the other surfers. At the tail end of one of the big sets, I saw a swelling peak of water coming right for me. No one else was paddling for it. It was a nice looking left, and plenty big.
I could have sat there another ten minutes resting. But, this wave was mine. I took it.
Brett's call interrupted the movie that my wife and I were watching on the Saturday night of Labor Day weekend.
"So, my neighbor says that it's going to be like 10 feet tomorrow." He said.
"Is that right?"
"That's what he says"
"And where did he hear about this?"
"Don't know"
On the other end of the line, Brett was browsing the Internet. Sure enough, the orange county paper was predicting 6-12 foot waves on their web report. Other sources seemed to conflict the report, most notably the swell prediction models made by the computers at NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
"So, there could be good surf, great surf, or just plain dangerous." Brett said.
"But, no matter what, if your neighbor has beard about it, there will be a million people out there."
"My neighbor thinks that the size will scare everyone away."
"Yea? Is he going?"
"Well, Yes. But he figures that everyone else will stay home."
"Not likely."
On my drive down the Pacific Coast Highway to Seventeenth Street, I passed Bolsa Chica State Beach, where a line of cars stacked back a quarter mile from the gates on both sides of the road.
I got to my usually parking spot at 6 am sharply, a full quarter hour before sunlight. Cars were already parked in waiting. Surfers dressed on the sidewalks in groups of twos and threes. I struggled to find a parking space within a block of the beach.
The surf was good. The big waves were head and a half high. I caught some very fun rides with on my shortboard, which I had brought out from several months of hibernation in my garage.
I decided to start bringing the shortboard on better days. The rides I had reminded me of the advantages of shortboards. They are fast and turn on a dime, allowing for a much more aggressive style of surfing. Of course, there are disadvantages. Smaller surfboards are less boy ant, and require more paddling to catch waves.
We stayed in the water nearly two hours, finally leaving at 8am, when the crowd was so thick that it was uncomfortably claustrophobic just sitting in the water.
Monday say slightly smaller surf, still very good, but with far less surfers.
Labor day weekend had brought a heat wave to Southern California. At my house in Anaheim during the day, temperatures topped 105 degrees. Even in the beach cities, temperatures reached 90 degrees just a few blocks from the water. Nevertheless, thousands of people swarmed to the beach for relief.
A sewage spill following a power outage leaked 13,000 gallons of sewage into the ocean at the Santa Ana River mouth, and produced a beach closure from the river jetties up to the state beach, pushing surfers and beach goers alike out of the area. They diverted north to Huntington Pier and south to Newport.
Surfers celebrated the arrival of the swell as some timely good waves on a holiday weekend. But, the size of the waves caused swimming conditions that were dangerous for the average swimmer. Lifeguards at the city beach in Huntington beach reported performing over 4,000 "preventative actions" - mostly warning swimmers about the hazardous conditions.
I saw Venice out in the water on Monday. She was wearing a baseball cap, strapped to her spring suit. "Man, the sun was so bright yesterday. The glare was killing me. I ended up with a migraine all day long."
Then she paddled off into the crowd.
After weeks of surfing every day, my arms finally gave out. I got caught inside the breaking waves, unable to make it past the break to the line up of surfers. I found myself caught in strong northbound current, which pulled me up the beach. I watched two lifeguard towers go by on shore, as I fought the blue and white foamy soup for what seemed like ages. Every paddle was a searing rip in the torn fibers of my arms.
When I finally made it through, I sighed a breath of relief, sat up, and waited. I was tired and knew that I was facing a long walk back to my truck.
i walked back to 10, caught two more waves and went in. I let several sets pass me by, watching the other surfers. At the tail end of one of the big sets, I saw a swelling peak of water coming right for me. No one else was paddling for it. It was a nice looking left, and plenty big.
I could have sat there another ten minutes resting. But, this wave was mine. I took it.
posted by travinator @ 4:25 PM
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