Written by November 1st, 2009 – Marin County, Pacific Coast, Northern California -
It was another one of those magic full moon Autumn nights… My favorite kind, when the evening air seems warmer than usual and the cool water actually feels refreshing instead of freezing. I got out to my favorite surf spot a little late since I decided to check out a more exposed beach and see if the bigger waves were clean enough to ride this afternoon. It was certainly big… double-overhead sets consistently smashing into the shallow sandbar at a recessing negative tide. Unfortunately it was almost pure closeouts. Sure, there were a few sections opening up here and there but way too random for my taste.
So, after watching these beautiful walls of water crashing the shore for a while, I decided to drive back to my usual stomping grounds to see if there was anything going on. I pulled up to a crowded lot, but found a spot right away as the dawn patrol and morning session wave riders were starting to leave. After a quick glance at the line up I quickly suited up, waxed the deck of my Bob Miller 8.0′ nose rider and charged out to the waves.
It was one of those super fun days when the waves seemed to be lining up in uniform shape and size and peeling steady, long, languid lefts all day long. For the first few hours the swells rolled in, cresting and breaking in perfect mini-tubes waist and chest high with occasional bigger sets. Everyone was having fun and catching tube rides. I over heard one kid telling his friend he just got barreled and the kid who caught the killer ride said “No I didn’t”, I had to chime in “Oh yes you did! Fully tubed, nice wave”. He almost screeched out “I just caught my first barrel… Did you see that dad? I just got barreled!!!” about 30 minutes later the same kid came ripping past me as I was paddling back out for another wave, this time twice as big a wave and wide open. He found the zone and it was a pretty sight. As I glided out of his line, I moved slowly and stayed in view as to vicariously enjoy his moment of perfection.
Anyone who has ever achieved perfection in anything knows this feeling. It’s as if time itself slows and every second is drawn out into what feels like forever and with a blink of an eye it’s over and all you can think of is doing it again. I could see it in his eyes as he whizzed by me and I actually felt time slow down for a moment myself just being that close to the experience.
Though I had been getting more than my share of fun rides and got covered up a few time myself, the only tubes I was getting so far were shutting down and closing out on me. A blast to punch through and get buried in but not that “shifting of time and space” feeling when you hit that hollow spot just right.
The warm sun was getting low in the north-western sky and beginning to fall behind the mesa. Just as the sunset colors started filling the early evening sky, the waxing moon in her fullest glow came rising over the eastern ridge. Everyone in the water started to comment.
As the sky darkened more people began to leave and the line up thinned out. All of a sudden it was as if the great waxing gibbous reached down from the sky and began pulling the waves up toward the heavens. A mad dash outside, a scramble for position, and a race for the peak… I stayed a little inside but slowly pushed out and down the line. Noticing now that everyone overshot the crest, I pushed back into the bowl and caught the curl just as it started to break. Dropped in fast and steep, into a quick turn and locked right into the zone. Everyone paddling out started shouting and hooting in slow motion as I demonstrated Time Travel Through a Tunnel of Water.
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