Photo: Blake Bernstein
This past Thursday and Friday were the biggest and cleanest waves at Ocean Beach, San Francisco that I’ve ever experienced. Granted, this is my first winter season at OB. I grew up in Marin, learning to surf at Bolinas, spent my college years down south at Trestles, and this past fall moved to San Francisco to push myself in some consistently bigger surf.
They say if you can surf an entire season at Ocean Beach you can surf anywhere on the planet, and although I’m not capable of that yet, after the past two days I know what that statement means. I think we’ll be talking about this swell (and the swell landing tomorrow) for a long, long time.
I paddled out Thursday at high tide around midday, hoping it might make for some gentler conditions. The winds were light and offshore, and I paddled out on my 6’6” G Money II from Jeff ‘Doc’ Lausch of Surf Prescriptions. A fantastic board, but nowhere near long enough for what was in store.
The entire drive to the VFW parking lot I was nervous and jittery. The adrenaline and fear coursed through me. The waves were predicted to be 12-15 feet, but with the rising swell and dropping tide, they would get much bigger as the day wore on. I hoped to be in and out with a couple of wild rides before those huge waves hit. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. By 2 p.m., I’d paddled for a few waves, caught a couple — one nice shoulder and a heavy closeout — but was psyching for more.
Waiting for a set at what I thought was the outside bar, the horizon line seemed to grow. It was dark and ominous, a different set than any I’d seen yet that day. As it marched towards me, I realized I was in a little over my head. Paddling madly for the outside, I squeaked over the first wave of the set. As the second wave lifted me up, I kicked my board to the side as I came over, hauling on the leash to pull the board through the lip. I paddled up and over the third, fourth, fifth, sixth waves of the set and ended up far, far out the back, my heart pounding in my chest. As soon as I was sure the set had cleared, I paddled for the inside and took the whitewash in.
On the beach, the true maniacs were just paddling out, grinning and toting guns that put my 6’6” to shame. As I watched from the parking lot, I was in awe of the increasingly heavy surf that was rolling through and the truly incredible rides that I witnessed from a safe distance, grateful to have made it in before those waves rolled through. But like I said, it’s my first winter in OB — and I’ll get out there again.
