It was around thanksgiving prolly about 7-8 yrs ago and I flew out to visit my old man in central cali. He was tied up at work this one day and i had brought a board. It was a 6'8" byrne supa narrow rounded pin, very fast, not a lotta float tho. anyways, the trip coincided with a real big NW winter type swell that was hitting real big further up the coast (ie. mavs, etal.), but i figured that down where i was it would be rideable. Packed up and headed to the regular spots, but they were totally closed out with nobody making it out. I don't know what possessed me, but i was on a mission and determined to surf this swell. I had an idea that i'd hatched many years ago, and this was the time to try it.
I drove north up the coast aways taking note of another unpaddleable cove and kept following hwy1 into the beautiful hills of the central coast. Totally overcast day, light mist, green rolling hills; felt like i was in ireland. Found the spot same as i remembered. Parked and stretched on the suit and booties which were helpful as i made my way through the pastureland toward the coastline. Fortunately no angry bovine. Took a little while to find a path/ravine down to the smooth mini-bouldered beach, but it gave me a chance to survey the ocean.
Solid lines training in from the NW, 5-6 waves per set, decent lull between, but even waves between sets were as big as i've ever surfed in cali and walls of unbroken wash were marching through the inside, very very light wind for this area slightly sideshore made the outside look really nice. My plan was this. There was a string of large rocks, almost little islands, that lay outside a minefield of large boulders. I figured that if i could avoid getting ground on the boulders, i could work my way up the string in the lee of each rock to the largest one on the outside just inside and to the left of the main peak. From there i coud wait in its protection until just the right moment to make it out.
The boulders were a pregnant dog, the washing machine inside was intense, and i totally understimated the force and quickness of the wash that filled in behind each rock, but after about 45mins i made it out to the last rock and waited until the last of a set and stroked like mad. That last part was surprisingly easy. I guess cause it wasn't so roiled with current and wash and chop.
I sat out there quite awhile, contemplating paddling in the way i came out. I was totally under-gunned and knew it. And i started to feel a little lonely. I figured there were probably more great whites than people within a 25 mile radius. But i didn't just spend a whole morning getting out to puss out, so i psyched up a little, and decided to try and pick off the shoulder of a later one in a set. I tried this about 4 times, but i just could not paddle into them. Finally, i said stop being such a girl thingy and crawled over right near the peak and in position.
Didn't wait long, solid set rolled through. Picked a good one and really found myself in just the right spot, said a quickie and committed. Seemed like forever before i really felt it, then it totally jacked like an outta control elevator and i suddenly felt like i was in a coyote/roadrunner cartoon. And i wasn't the roadrunner. But i saw it coming. I was not getting down the face, but too committed to back out. Popped to my feet in time to really get a grip on how f*cked i was and i knew i was going to be stuck in the lip. At this point only one thing was going through my mind... Penetration.
Sadly, it was not to be. Air, a few skips down the face, then sucked up and back over the falls. At least i got a good breath. Ragdoll rinse cycle, i went limp till finally feeling the tug of my leash. Started paddling up, just as i got to the surface, i see the worst possible thing. A nice big fat lip already accelerating to detonation directly on my head. Only half a breath this time.
This one got me good. Pushed me reeeal deep. Dragged me across the bottom even as i felt my ears squeeze from another bomb exploding above. Then my body's motion is stopped cold like a fly on flypaper by a large hard boulder. At this point, I the thought that this could be "it" is creeping in and i can't tell which way is up. I imagine my tombstoning board and god shaking his head going, "6-8?? What a
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" I realized my eyes were open, but it was still pitch black. And i'm not talking dark, i mean pitch black. I don't know where the extra 15secs of air came from (i think either you believe you're gonna make it or you don't), but my leash dragged me up a few upside down, then i inverted and scratched through to the surface. Got a nice big breath, took a few more whitewall enemas, before i made it to the rocky shore. Laid there for a long while before i scooted back to the car and went home.
My dad asked me how the surf was - said he saw some stories on tv and it looked a little outta control. I shrugged, "couldn't make it out." He woulda kicked my azz.
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