Chasing Swell Down The California Coast

It’s currently 10PM on a Sunday as we drive along Highway One. Heading inland to reach the main freeway, we are shrouded by heavy fog as we twist and turn through the redwood forest. Navigating the road with expertise, my friend at the wheel is focused on making good time to Berkeley.

“Dude, we are going to score.”

Tall, with short, curly, dirty blonde hair, my high school friend Alex is well built from years of working in Alaska on fishing vessels. Contacting me the night before, he asked if I wanted to head South to chase a swell to Santa Barbara. Looking at the swell forecast for Northern California, the charts were dark red indicating that abnormally large waves were on the way. Looking at the individual buoys along the coast, some were reading thirty-seven feet at seventeen seconds. However, down the coast the waves were forecasted to be perfect and well groomed due to protection from the Channel Islands. How could I say no?

Reaching Alex’s sister’s house in Berkeley at midnight, we shuffle up the steps and unlock the front door. Walking into the upstairs unit, the burnt red cedar floors aged with footsteps creek as we walk on them. Making our way into the living room, the décor is fit for an Urban Outfitters catalog. The antique crème yellow gas stove boils water in the corner while a Van Morrison LP spins on a record player in the background. Too tired to explore my new surroundings I begin to doze listening to Van Morrison and the housemates talk about their PhDs in art history. It’s a hipster’s paradise.

With the IPhone alarm ringing in my ear at 4:30AM, I try to ignore it as long as possible. Shutting it off, I whisper over to Alex, “we are going to regret not getting up right now. “ Climbing out of our sleeping bags, we pack them up and shuffle down the cedar staircase in darkness. Not seeing the fixie at the front of the door, I trip over it on the way out.

Reaching Rincon in the early afternoon, we pull into the massive parking lot. Every space is taken in the parking lot and all of the street parking is nonexistent. After some shuffling we find a spot in the overflow parking lot.

Looking at Alex I say, “Seems like we aren’t the only ones looking forward to the swell arriving today. I think all of Santa Barbara and Ventura called in sick.”

“Just keep your head down and look mean when you're paddling for waves.”

“I think we should get a honorary award for driving almost the entire coast of California to surf this swell.”

Suiting up, we grab our boards and head to the beach in search of a few waves with far too many people. Mentally and physically preparing, Alex and I paddle out into the subtropical water with two hundred other people looking for the same thing. It’s what we do for a few perfect waves.

Check out the last trip to Santa Barbara California

September Sessions

The fog crept in like a cat eager to pounce on it's prey. The last of the summer heat fought to keep the fog at bay but was slowly losing as dusk approached. Walking down the headlands trail, I spy a perfect wave breaking at the river mouth. This confirmed what I had thought I'd seen while driving along Highway 1. A combination of South swell and the right amount of sand in the bay has created the waves I've been waiting for.

Sprinting back to my truck, I eagerly start pulling on my wetsuit. Looking around I notice the amount of transients hanging out in the parking lot. Leaning on their cars, they casually talk with one another while passing around a joint. I remind myself that this is normal in NorCal during the late Summer early Fall. Grabbing my board I make my way down to the beach.

Walking across the sand, I continually see little lefts breaking across the beach. One perfect wave after another and nobody's out. The water an ominous dark color changed from the previous arctic blue hinting that Fall is just around the bend.

Sliding into a few waves I spy another surfer heading down the beach. With a sense of urgency, I paddle harder back into the lineup to enjoy a few more minutes to myself. In the distance I hear a familiar voice call out, "Wyatt!"

Turning my head I see that it's a friend that I grew up surfing with named Holly.

"Hey! How have you been?"

"I've been great! I was about to drive South but it looked like a lot of fun here."

"Yeah, there's no use in driving when there are waves closer by..."

Seeing a wave in the distance, Holly spins her board around and paddles into a wave. I follow suit and slide into another glassy wave behind hers. Kicking out next to Holly, I can't help but laugh. Amidst my laughter, I'm only able to produce a few words.

"Wow, this is amazing!!"

Holly reciprocates with a smile that seems to say, "I know."

Santa Teresa Mornings

Lying on my bed in the dark, I'm listening to the whir of the ceiling fans overhead. Slowly motivating myself to get out of bed I do my best to quietly grab my surfboard and apply sunscreen. Sneaking out of the room, I narrowly miss stepping on the owner's Labrador in the hallway. He doesn't move much more than a sloth. The cool pavement comforts him from the relentless heat. I don't blame him. For me, sleeping with a sheet is even too hot. 

It's currently 5:30am and stepping outside onto the patio, I savor what will be the coolest air of the day. Also unlike the rest of the day, it's the quietest. By 8am, the only street in Santa Teresa is filled with ATVs and Enduros narrowly missing pedestrians as they weave around potholes.

Empty streets

Sliding the heavy iron gate open, I stroll down the street at dusk and step off onto the dirt path heading down to the beach. Behind me a howler monkey barks in the distance like someone gasping for air. Spotting a hermit crab on the ground, I realize the ground is full of them. It sounds like Fall leaves blowing in the wind as the hermit crabs scuttle through the leaf litter.

Local graffitti

As dusk fades away, the silhouetted palm trees on the beach begin to develop their green hues. The ocean smooth as glass reflects shades of pinks and light blues from the sunrise. Pelicans skim the ocean surface in search of fish. 

Perfect waist high waves

Jumping into the water cools me off briefly, but at eighty four degrees Fahrenheit, it isn't very refreshing. But I lie to myself and pretend that it is refreshing because it's the coldest I'm going to be for the next twenty four hours. 

Island Surfing and Running Into Friends

Stepping off the dock into the boat, I shuffle over to balance the boat with my weight. Quickly grabbing the surfboards from Chet, I tuck them into the bow of the boat as he hops in. 

The quiver

With the hum of the outboard motor in the background, we sit in silence as we anticipate the surf. Leaving the calmness of the bay, we begin to hit the open ocean swells as we head to the island Carenero - an island with a perfect point break.

Our boat driver pulling up just out of reach of the breaking waves sets the outboard on idle. 

"You want me to wait for you?"

"No, we will flag another boat down. We don't know how long we are going to surf for."

Grabbing my board I toss it overboard and dive in. The water almost uncomfortably warm, feels nice after the rainy and windy ride over. 

As Chet and I paddle out to the furthest part of the point, we watch the waves bend around the island with machine like consistency. The wave itself is phenomenal. Sitting in the lineup looking out to sea, we stare out at the island of Bastimentos as we watch the open water swells transform into breaking waves. As the breaking wave bends across the island, the underlying reef seems to groom the wave; the longer the wave breaks, the more perfect the wave gets. However, what really struck me about the wave is that it breaks within a stones throw of the island. While riding the wave, it seems like the jungle is merely oncoming traffic with the thin strip of beach as the center divider. 

After four hours of surfing, Chet was exhausted, and my stomach was rubbed raw from the board. We decided it was time to flag a boat down. Sitting like ducks in the water, we waited for a water taxi to come. 

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. 

Watching waves role through we couldn't resist catching a few more. Paddling into one, I take off and I'm flying down the wave. Like a dog chasing a squirrel, at that moment nothing matters more than the wave, and nothing could break my focus and determination. Midway through the wave, I distantly hear "Wyatt!!" and it's not until the end of the wave that I register that my name had actually been called. Paddling back out, to my surprise I see my friend Emily in the water. 

Emily, a graduate of Environmental Science from UCSB as well, is a friend that I've been surfing with since my freshmen year at UCSB. Living in neighboring dorms, we'd surf together, had the same friend group, and struggled through the same classes all four years. She has more energy than the energizer bunny itself.

When seen outside her large framed sunglasses covered most of her face which were held on by croakies. She's usually riding her green Trek rusted from the years of salt dripping on it in Santa Barbara. Highly animated in both hand gestures and personality, the last time I saw her was when she was sitting a row behind me at the UCSB graduation ceremony. Like everyone else she was wearing the black gown, blue and gold sash, graduation cap, and her big sunglasses with croakies. She only had to put some flair to the outfit. She boasted a black mustache to symbolize the Gauchos, and adorned a foot high version of UCSB's Storke Tower that could be seen as she crossed the stage. 

Finally waving down a boat like hitchhikers, it was time to part paths again from my friend. On the voyage back to Bastimentos, it was crazy for me to think that on a remote set of islands off the Caribbean coast of Panama, I'd randomly run into a friend from school. It made me look forward to more experiences like that. 

Gloomy Days

The few days of amazing weather was short lived. The swell drastically increased with onshore winds make both diving and surfing nonexistent. Along with this, consistent rain storms keep us inside. While going outside in the rain isn't bad since it's warm, it does get tiresome constantly drying off. 

Solo sunrise walk

Usually this wave is no bigger than waist high. This is probably a twelve foot wave.

Lone coconut drifting in the waves

Pretty sure that's what I looked like wiping out the other day.

Instead, between listening to the rhythm of the rain drops on the tin roof and plunking on the guitar, we have been spending more time in the garden and working. 

Glad we have some guitars to jam with

Hanging out

The garden that Gio maintains is phenomenal. It's a full time job on top of his other jobs but he somehow manages to keep it going.

For him it's a lifelong experiment. He's a mad scientist trying to get the best results. Growing kale, cilantro, and other veggies isn't good enough. It can always be better. Gio tries different tilling methods, lighting, everything imaginable.

Where it all begins

I think the pattern that papaya leaves make is pretty cool. Like big snowflakes. 

His results are impressive, basil plants that are small hedges. Tomato plants that are five years old and still producing. 

Gio finds that fighting the constant dampness followed by mold is a huge problem. When it starts raining he flies around the garden trimming and hacking plants back so they won't die or rot. He still sees life in them and we need it to eat. For the most part we don't buy any fruits or veggies except for carrots, onions, and garlic. Everything else is from the garden. 

One of the terraces

Hawaiian chili peppers

Tarot

Sweet potatoes

While banana trees line the perimeter and  papaya trees dot the interior, terraces line the yard with fruits and veggies of all kinds. There are often multiple varieties of each plant. Different oreganos, spinach, and peppers. 

He also reminds me of Jonny Apleseed. More like Gio Avoseed though. He makes little piles of the seeds from his best avacados and will fill a pocket full and toss them along the jungly road side knowing ten years down the road there could be an avacado tree for people to enjoy.

Papaya, banana, and lilicoy (passion fruit) for breakfast