An Historic Swell
Ventuckey, Calif.
July 2009
Those watching the forecast in the south Pacific had first warning. A maelstrom was in the making. A few days later the buoys from Baja to Huntington to Santa Cruz. The typical SoCal summer flat top jacked up with perfect set from dawn to dusck for three days straight. Barrels came to 56th Street. Perfect A-frames were found at County Line. The Wedge turned deadly. C-Street was mobbed. Surfline was awash with locals digging in and getting their feed. Experts sitting in rusted SUVs swear it proved to be the best surf since April '07. Old timers spit tobacco juice on bare toes and ramble on about it being a once in a decade swell.
And as quickly as it came it was gone. Like a three year old's temper tantrum running out of steam, the swell calmed down. All that is left are the stories; told in the sore muscles and kool-aid grins from Baja to Bend. As years roll by the waves will grow in our memories as the stories grow into epic exaggerations. When we have gray in our hair and stubble on our chin we will still remember the summer swell of '09 like it was yesterday. And when freshly minted grommets walk by with their fancy pin tails still new and smelling of fresh epoxy, they will smile and blush and whisper out of earshot to themselves, "That old timer rode the swell of 2009, waves double head high and angry, with a balsa board 20lbs thick." And us so-called old timers with nod as they pass in silent agreement, "Ahhhh-yuh 20lbs. thick..."
But until the stubble comes to our chin, and until the gray spackles our brow we dry out the wet suits, hose off the boards, put the women and children to bed, check the surf report and wait for tomorrow. There are only six more hours till a smattering of color beckons the dawn patrol; only 360 minutes til we get up an do it again. Besides who knows, the best part of historic swells is what could happen tomorrow.
Until tomorrow.
Ventuckey, Calif.
July 2009
Those watching the forecast in the south Pacific had first warning. A maelstrom was in the making. A few days later the buoys from Baja to Huntington to Santa Cruz. The typical SoCal summer flat top jacked up with perfect set from dawn to dusck for three days straight. Barrels came to 56th Street. Perfect A-frames were found at County Line. The Wedge turned deadly. C-Street was mobbed. Surfline was awash with locals digging in and getting their feed. Experts sitting in rusted SUVs swear it proved to be the best surf since April '07. Old timers spit tobacco juice on bare toes and ramble on about it being a once in a decade swell.
And as quickly as it came it was gone. Like a three year old's temper tantrum running out of steam, the swell calmed down. All that is left are the stories; told in the sore muscles and kool-aid grins from Baja to Bend. As years roll by the waves will grow in our memories as the stories grow into epic exaggerations. When we have gray in our hair and stubble on our chin we will still remember the summer swell of '09 like it was yesterday. And when freshly minted grommets walk by with their fancy pin tails still new and smelling of fresh epoxy, they will smile and blush and whisper out of earshot to themselves, "That old timer rode the swell of 2009, waves double head high and angry, with a balsa board 20lbs thick." And us so-called old timers with nod as they pass in silent agreement, "Ahhhh-yuh 20lbs. thick..."
But until the stubble comes to our chin, and until the gray spackles our brow we dry out the wet suits, hose off the boards, put the women and children to bed, check the surf report and wait for tomorrow. There are only six more hours till a smattering of color beckons the dawn patrol; only 360 minutes til we get up an do it again. Besides who knows, the best part of historic swells is what could happen tomorrow.
Until tomorrow.
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