A little wind never hurts 11-16-05
Leaving a trade dinner meeting on Tuesday night, I tasted dryness on my lips and noticed a flag blowing from east to west. The offshore Sant Ana winds were in town. I decided that I'd go surfing the following morning, no matter what the surf reports said.
And, they weren't exciting - the surf reports, that is. Zero to two feet, with a six foot plus high tide at eight thirty. In other words, junk.
But, true to my original decision, I woke up and drove to the beach. I pulled in to the parking lot at the cliffs at 5:45 in the morning. The sun was not visible yet, but there was a full moon shining on the water. There was already one guy surfing by moonlight. I got dressed in my superhero outfit and walked the shaky trail down the cliff under only moon light. Halfway down the trail, there was a guy smoking some weed. Can't say that I fault him, particularly in his choice of scenery. The morning was clear as could be. Even in the relative darkness, the oil rigs a mile offshore looked close enough to swim to.
As the sun rose, the morning fulfilled it's promise. the waves were small and weak, but well shaped and steeper than usual with the offshore winds pushing on them.
For the first twenty minutes, there was only me and the moonlight surfer. The set waves were only waist high, but they were rights, and pretty long rides. Between sets, the water was flat with only a light texture of dry offshore winds. Paddling back out was a lazy and slow endeavor. We were grossly outnumbered by very busy pelicans, for whom the clear morning was a boon. Even I could spot the little fishes breeching the water sporadically.
To the west, I could see the buildings of Long Beach, the docks of San Pedro and the hills of Palos Verdes. To the east, the rising sun shone a blinding light right at eye level. From the north came the winds, and to the south was the big island, Catalina, whose peaks were clear over a low horizon of brown and grey fog.
I caught a big set wave. Mind you, by big I mean maybe chest high. But, it was big enough, and very well shaped. The wind sprayed foam backward off the lip. I carved a big slow bottom turn, lazily flipped around at the top, rode high for a while to beat out a section, then repeated a second big carve, hitting the top and dropping down into foam.
"Damn." I commented, grabbing my board to paddle back out. "I love this sport."
No one heard my commentary, of course. Heck, there were only five people there.
And, they weren't exciting - the surf reports, that is. Zero to two feet, with a six foot plus high tide at eight thirty. In other words, junk.
But, true to my original decision, I woke up and drove to the beach. I pulled in to the parking lot at the cliffs at 5:45 in the morning. The sun was not visible yet, but there was a full moon shining on the water. There was already one guy surfing by moonlight. I got dressed in my superhero outfit and walked the shaky trail down the cliff under only moon light. Halfway down the trail, there was a guy smoking some weed. Can't say that I fault him, particularly in his choice of scenery. The morning was clear as could be. Even in the relative darkness, the oil rigs a mile offshore looked close enough to swim to.
As the sun rose, the morning fulfilled it's promise. the waves were small and weak, but well shaped and steeper than usual with the offshore winds pushing on them.
For the first twenty minutes, there was only me and the moonlight surfer. The set waves were only waist high, but they were rights, and pretty long rides. Between sets, the water was flat with only a light texture of dry offshore winds. Paddling back out was a lazy and slow endeavor. We were grossly outnumbered by very busy pelicans, for whom the clear morning was a boon. Even I could spot the little fishes breeching the water sporadically.
To the west, I could see the buildings of Long Beach, the docks of San Pedro and the hills of Palos Verdes. To the east, the rising sun shone a blinding light right at eye level. From the north came the winds, and to the south was the big island, Catalina, whose peaks were clear over a low horizon of brown and grey fog.
I caught a big set wave. Mind you, by big I mean maybe chest high. But, it was big enough, and very well shaped. The wind sprayed foam backward off the lip. I carved a big slow bottom turn, lazily flipped around at the top, rode high for a while to beat out a section, then repeated a second big carve, hitting the top and dropping down into foam.
"Damn." I commented, grabbing my board to paddle back out. "I love this sport."
No one heard my commentary, of course. Heck, there were only five people there.
posted by travinator @ 8:22 AM
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