Remembering the dog days of winter.

This has been an odd year.  Of course, most everyone has heard about the drought.  It sucks.  The skiing sure took a hit this year.  And our water reserves are low.  Yet, there were some really awesome things about this past winter.  One was the swell.  While it was not an all time winter, especially for the spots in town, it was a damn fun winter.  The lack of storm systems diving south kept us mostly under a calm, warm high pressure system, that kept conditions on the north coast prime.  And while a six foot long period northwest swell barely registers at head high most places in town, once you get up the coast you can find waves and breaks that are pushing double overhead.  So it is sure nice when the weather cooperates to allow you to head out and explore.  And get away from the crowds.  If you know where to go.

This wave rarely ever works.  It is just a long, crappy, lumbering close out.  Until it is not.

On the other hand, this wave seems to always work.

Sure, it can be a burger, but a burger with some zesty hot sauce on it.

Being a lumbering not wave, the SUP world has discovered their place.  Nothing like a paddle to get through a flat section.

Except for when the swell gets big, and deep, enough to connect the parts of the reef.  

The other nice thing about fine winter weather is when after a morning surf charging double overhead bombs up at the creek, you can go home, retrieve the family and spend the afternoon chilling on the beach.  It is hard to complain about a 70F day at the water's edge in mid February.  Hanging out in board shorts, building sand castles, exploring the reefs and feeding the anemones.  If I had wanted to to do any of that this past first weekend of June, I would have had to have on a beanie and a hoody, just to stay warm.  And it is even better when you have an overhead swell hitting a reef to your left,  and a point to your right.  To give an idea of how good this day was, these pics were taken over a random half hour, while playing and running around with a three year old.  Those with real cameras, and actually paying attention, would have scored some killer pics all day.

When the left is good, it is good.  Waves like this just draw up onto the reef and go forever.

How many of those guys on the inside are hoping for a wipeout?

On the better sets, you can ride all the way to the shore pound.

The rights are kind of hard to see, as they break so far out on the point.

But you can still see the tops peeling for ever.

What this winter lacked in size, it more than made up for in consistency and conditions.  Hell, it seems like it has been good around here since last autumn.  Sure, we have had a few flatter periods, but it has rarely gone super flat for more than a day or two.  And if we needed to survive on wind swell for a week here or there, ground swell was sure to show up the following week.  In fact, the brief periods that lacked swell I found most welcoming.  It allowed for me to actually get some work down around the house instead of having me heading for the waves every chance I got.  Sure, it is not quite like winter out there right now, but we have had swell for most of May, and June is starting out just fine.

Connecting it all the way through the inside allows for a short paddle in.

North Point was having a very good day.

Even with a crowd in the water, some peaks just seems to always sneak through.

Sitting on the beach, you are looking right into the lefts.  Kind of a fun angle.

Not much of a barrel on this wave, but plenty of drawing walls to play around on.

Some people pine for summer.  I guess if I lived in Boston, I might as well.  But I pine for those fine days in winter.  Usually, those are the days in between the rain systems, when everything lines up, and we get a long enough period of high pressure for things to warm up along the coast.  In a drought year, that is most of the winter.  Sure, drought sucks, and we really, really need rain.  But if it is not to come, we should just then enjoy things as they are, and get down to the beach in our sandals and take some selfies and send them to our friends who live in Boston.  Where there are still piles of (very dirty) snow in random parking lots where they piled it up all winter just to clear the roads.  

This wave is not for everyone, but it sure looked fun this day.

Looking like a classic high liner.

Even the smaller ones were setting up nicely.

Just a magical winter's day.

It is always good to come home.

It is not like I had traveled particularly far, nor for particularly long.  But I did spend much of the latter part of March taking my son up to the mountains for a few boys trips to get our ski on.  In case you did not know already, coverage is pretty damn thin this year.  With the drought and all.  But seeing he is not quite yet four, he was not too worried about the dirt, bush and rocks poking through the thin layer of slush.  In fact, he rather enjoyed it.  So, when we had our window, we took it.  I might have missed a few surf days here and there, but not really too many.  Then, for the first week in April, I was down in Palm Desert on a family vacation to visit with my parents.  We actually had a pretty damn awesome hike out near Mecca in some box and slot canyons.  And I did get a day in surfing Lowers.  More on that later.  But it just feels so damn good to be back home in Santa Cruz.

(Pictures do not really tie into the story, but rather were from a pretty damn fun swell in February.  In Santa Cruz.)

Always a great place to hang out at low tide to explore the tide pools, and get some truck time in.

Especially when the surf is going.  Just another head high wave.

I just love it when the waves come staking in.

A few always seem to sneak through riderless.

And occasionally, the left on the south side of the cove will offer up this certain left.

Sometimes it is hard to catch.

There really are a number of reasons.  After several trips at elevation, and then nearly a full week in the desert, I returned home feeling like a dried fig with every ounce of water drawn out of me.  I mean, I did drink an awful lot of water, but I seemed to return home with a new sort of long term dehydration.  My nose can still feel it and I have been home for a week.  But, man, my body is just that much more normal.  Not to mention my son's skin.  It is nice to live in a proper climate.  Never quite too dry, or too humid, nor to warm, or too cold.  Proper.  And during the wintery months that can often mean near perfect weather.  Especially during a drought.  I just love the 70s, when the wind is slight and the sun is shining.  Not to mention that we have a legitimate winter swell hitting this weekend.  So many things that make it nice to be back home. 

Occasionally, really good things happen to you.

Especially if you are patient.

Sooner or later it feels like the whole world is giving you a hug.

Often it is just nice to stand there and take it all in.

Other times, you need to slow it down.

Of course, if we are not careful, we will miss the train.

Another thing though might loom bigger.  Have you ever notice how many people there are in California.  Many of them going from one place to another.  On the roads.  The same road you are on.  I mean, where the hell are all these people headed?  Not that there is not traffic right here in town, but it seems, at least if you give it a thought, you can avoid it by not heading to certain places at certain times.  Not quite as easy once you get in the interstates surrounding and heading out from the Bay.  Not to mention the entire cluster that is nearly the entirety of Southern California.  It really hit me as we were driving south through Lancaster, in the Antelope Valley, behind a fairly significant mountain range from the Los Angeles.  We were driving through the high desert, in the middle of no where, when suddenly we were in a city of half a million people.  And we were in the middle of nowhere.  Actually, though, a pretty nice route to the Palm Springs region, bypassing most of the greater LA area, and dropping south, out past San Bernardino.  But, yeah.  Cars.  Roads.  The second night I was back in town, I headed out for a sunset surf.  I live right in town.  Drove to a point five miles from my house.  It took seven minutes.  That same distance can take an hour in some places.

While the surf is not exactly lonely, it is rarely is a traffic jam.

Perhaps, more importantly, is is often not too small.

On this particular day, we had a bonus.  We got buzzed by tow of these guys.

For a moment, I thought North Korea had engaged.

Several people actually duck for cover.

Same guy, same wave.

Like, seriously, dude, this wave was roping.

Like, say, in and around Oceanside and Carlsbad.  Holy molasses.  My son wanted to visit Legoland, so we took the drive up and out of the desert, over the mountains and down to the coast.  After dropping off my family, I turned north and headed fro the Trestles zone.  It was probably a better day to stick around the Oceanside harbor with the small, weak wind swell.  Yet, I choose otherwise.  I got to Lowers around 10:15, and the surf was anything but inspiring, but there were fewer than ten people in the water.  And I figured, that as the tide filled in, and the wind came up on its back, the crowd would thin even more.  At least that is what happens at home.  Not so much in the south with 14 million people in LA and San Diego Counties.  By 12:30, there were twenty in the water, with twenty more suiting up on the beach.  With the waves swamped, and the bump up, it was time to go.

It was fun watching these things come in.

The crowd was not too thick, but the competition was fierce.

It takes just the right conditions for this closeout to turn into a reeling wave.

It sure offers up a good amount of boost.

Of course, out front did not look too shabby.

But in the end, I had been in the water, I knew which wave I would have been sitting on.

That second night back home I mentioned early.  Remember that?  That night as I walking from my car, across a farm, to the water, I began to think how much more I enjoyed this stroll than the one down to Trestles.  A quite farm, with a view of the Monterey Bay and the Santa Cruz Mountains.  Not going under a Freeway, and along a housing development.  Then, I got a view of the point.  It looked pretty crappy, actually.  I was glad I had my egg along with me.  Sure, the waves were bigger than the day at Lowers, but the shape was not quite as nice.  Sure, it was head high slop, but the waves were peeling.  And there was not twenty, or ten, or two others to share it with.  I had this crap all to myself.  It sure felt nice to be back home, where I can go out on a piss poor day and not have to share it with anybody else.  In fact, when one other guy showed up, it took twenty minutes before we were both out at the peak together.  We just had kept swapping waves.  Yeah.  That is nice.

Back home, it is nice to find that comfortable seat.

Back to the shack.

Sitting nicely into the pit.

The peaks were hucking.

The barrels were this big.

Not that I really like crappy surf.  But being a dad, you take the windows you get.  On the other hand, I headed to that same point just yesterday when a fresh 8@17 WNW was hitting.  Waves were running in the 8-10 foot range along the point.  Nothing special, nothing epic.  No long barrel sections.  No below sea level bowls.  No vertical roping lines.  But it was overhead, thick, juicy and long, with plenty of opportunities for big, open face carves.  Just good, ole Santa Cruz surfing.  Just another reason why it is good to be home.  Oh, and I shared that goodness with way fewer then ten.

Hurricane Swell.

Took a road trip with my son to check out a light house.  We stopped to wave the surf on the way.

We I was a kid, growing up surfing the summers in southernMaine, there was one thing we always hoped for: cane swell.  Not only would that mean we would have actual waves to surf, but it was easy to name the swell.  Gabriella stands out as one of the all time best, as a Cat 5 storm retrograded into toward the Gulf of Maine for 48 hours, before jetting east across the Atlantic.  But there were many others.  Some excellent.  Some disappointing.  They all had a name.  And when ever the first signs of a tropical wave pushing off of Africa was mentioned on the Tropical Update at ten till the hour, we were paying attention.  Tropical swell does not quite get the same billing out here where we are blessed with consistent winter surf, and occasional long period summer swell.  Tropical swells are rare. And steep.  And kind of weird.  But this summer we had a few weeks run of fun surf, that finished off quite grandly.

Wide open faces begging to be carved.

The lineups were not empty, but the waves were plentiful.

As were cutbacks.

The short period swell even threw out a few cover ups.

It was nothing like Newport, and what much of southern California saw.  The fact that the Wedge went huge and Newport Point broke were less surprising than seeing the footage from Supertubes in Santa Barbara.  What is so interesting about the tropical swells we get is how with their steep angle, and shorter (than say long 17-22 second swell) periods they seem to get into places you would not suspect.  In fact, the waves sometimes would look less than perfect at the usual "anything breaks" spots, but the cove that has not broke in a decade suddenly would have a cavernous pit to stand in.  One of the breaks I surfed during the Lowell swell is typically a super fun small summer surf kind of spot, but the swell was consistent, closely packed and overhead making for too much water moving over the sand bars.  When I shifted a hundred yards north, to where the wave would typically be closing out, the wall reeled forever.  Yeah, so you have to pay attention when we get the tropical.

This wave typically ends at the rock with the long period souths.  

The cloud cover helped keeps the surface nice and glassy.

Classic fun hurricane swell.

A few miles up the coast, this mysto break went unridden for hours.  

One of the things I can recall from childhood was how the hurricane swells would stack up.  It was before I knew much about period, so early on, I paid no attention to that.  Just that if the waves were head high during the sets, they tended to be chest high during the lulls, and one after the other.  The peaks would shift up and down the beach, but always somewhere would be breaking.  One after the other.  If you were strong, and smart, you could pretty much surf, paddle back, surf, paddle back, surf, paddle back until you, and your shoulders, were done.  Okay, so sure, there were some actual lulls in the action, when you might wait, and rest.  But for the most part go, go, go.  Nothing like the waits during a typical summer time south.

Back in town, the was a little comp going on at the Lane.

Lining it up.

Looking to get covered up.

I think the right elbow is in the barrel.

This summer we had one of the best tropical seasons in California in recent history.  Karina was first in line sending us some small, southerly, short period swell early August.  For the most part, this was not too noticeable with a fair amount of small background southern hemi swell in the water at the same time.  The many small swells blended well, and with a bit of northwest wind swell in the water, the waves were quite nice.  But not distinctly tropical.  That did not happen until Lowell should up on the scene.  Hot on the tails of its predecessor, but pressing as much north as west, it drove swell well up into central California.  The result was four to five days of fun, consistent, chest high plus surf.  At its peak, waves were pushing well overhead at favorable locations.  And while more than a few people were out and about, plenty of surf was to be had.  It did not hurt that we were experiencing a south flow fog blanket keeping that surface glass. 

Speed racing.

Turns are the name of the game.

Winner.

Throwing a bucket or two.

Then there was Marie.  She sent some bombs to the real steep facing breaks down south.  It would seem that a few breaks nearby that can pick up, and handle, a very steep angle also picked up a few of those bombs on the peaking morning.  As the hurricane swung wider, and weakened, we begin to pick up more of its swell, giving the reagin another round of chest high consistent surf.  Not bad for August.  Now, none of these storms really sent any kind of epic surf to Santa Cruz.  Just good fun stuff.  We would want to see the trajectory of Lowell with the power of Marie.  But then again, some times you have to allow Newport and Santa Barbara shine a little bit.  And it is not like it was not fun.

Heavy drops were had.

Rocks were skimmed.

Dig.

The Slot.

So, if it was not epic, then why is it memorable?  Maybe it is nostalgia for my summer time youth.  Perhaps it is just that we rarely get any tropical swell at all.  Or that it lasted for not just a few days, but spread out over two weeks.  Likely, the fact that it was that consistent tropical style shorter period swell helped.  And of course, the clean conditions allowing miles and miles of surf and breaks to choose from had its impact.  Only thing that would have made the run better would have been a totally open schedule to pick and choose the best times to maximize the fun.  Or not having the surf run end over a holiday weekend.  I imagine more than a few were chasing the swell by then.

Meanwhile, up the coast a ways, surfers surf.

Point Break.

Waves ranged from waist to overhead.  

And could be ridden all the way to the inside.

While Marie was throwing out its best impression of a real waves along some of the most expensive strips of coast line (did you see the Malibu footy), Cristobal was making his way up the east coast.  Reports coming back from friends in New England were pretty positive.  Nice to know I was enjoying some tropical swell at the same time as my childhood buddy.  Just on separate coasts.  Everybody was getting some.  Or so it seemed.  

Nice, long, fun, easy, lined up waves.

Doesn't that look fun.

All the way to the beach.

Salut!

It also turned out to be a pretty good run for shooting pics.  The weather was nice enough for my son and I to plan a few coastal and beach outings.  The light was decent enough most days.  It did help to get out of the car and get a little closer to the action, but sometimes a road side stop was all we could muster.  But when we did set up on the beach, the regular waves and sets, made it easy to wrangle a three year old, and still get off a few clicks of the shutter.  I imagine the pros did pretty well around here, especially if they ever left the Lane to search out some of the gems that were breaking.

Shorepound.

This place had a fairly large crowd and the issues that go with that.

Turns were had.

Sections line up.

Anyway, it has been a while since Marie settled out.  Still plenty of fun out there, and with the north Pacific wakening up, and the south sending up some of that late season juice, it is hard to have much interest to what is happening in the tropics.  Turns out, as I am writing this, another storm is brewing up, and the National Hurricane Center is projecting a favorable path for Polo.  Well, they did last night.  Maybe we will get some, maybe we won't.  It does not really seem to matter, as long as the waves keep coming.

Off the top.

Threading the needle.

Inside rebound.

The east coast has had another dose of hurricane swell since we enjoyed our run.  And good for them.  It is pretty much all they get this time of year.  Sure, summers can have some fun, small, quick, short period action, but if you are looking for a little juice, you pretty much need the tropics active come summer.  In fact, they are right now in prime season.  The funny thing is is that they are only on their fifth named storm of the season, and we are up to "P'.  But in another month or two, they too will be looking at a more local source.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Yesterday I was out at a beach break up the coast.  It typically likes a nice long period southern Pacific swell, and as is typical of those swells, you usually need to wait a bit for the sets to show up.  Yesterday felt more like those days of tropical swell.  A small early season storm generated some small, mid period northwest swell, and as it dove south to give us a taste of rain, is also generated some local WSW wind swell.  With all that swell in the water, things were comboing up in an interesting way, making the break much more shifty than usual, and much more punchy, and way more consistent.  Kind of like a tropical swell.  So maybe we don't really need the hurricane after all.

The ship mast rock.

The cutback.

The crowds.

The moment in surfing that I really enjoy.  Nice grip, accelerating and eyeing the lip.

I mean, there is the down side of hurricanes, and that is that they can be quite destructive.  I don't really mind them interrupting the shipping lanes so much, but when they do come ashore, they can wreck havoc.  Odole recently did.  And Andrew and Katrina are quite memorable.  Irene was less of a wind event than a flash flood event.  And even that was far from the coast.  And of course there was Sandy.  And I can recall surfing waves generated by Hugo, just days after it sent a wave of water miles inland in South Carolina.  I guess I've always taken the good with the bad.  I can't change the weather, so I mind as well enjoy the surf.  It is glassy out there right now.

The inside had plenty of small gems, and were a great way to end the session.