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	Wisdumb
	A Little Surf Story (11-21-01) Before moving to Santa Barbara in 1991, I lived in San Luis Obispo. We would occasionally consider surfing somewhere else, but after recalling the latest session at our favorite reef, we would come to our senses and ask, "why bother?" One winter, we decided to try something new and 'planned' a trip to Point Sal. It seemed like a good idea. We left town at the crack of noon and headed south. Unfortunately, we arrived at a closed gate that we speculated was to keep surfers and tourists from attacking Vandenberg from the north, due to the Gulf war. Since our main destination was no longer an option, our trip was now even more freestyle. We continued south, past the toxic bubbling pools of Casmalia on to Jalama. The surf was pushing double-overhead, but the conditions were poor; NW winds, clouds, and chop. We were getting desperate so we figured we would park at the Crack. We got spooked by the NO PARKING signs and were about to leave when we noticed a bunch of cars parked just inside the gate by the RR tracks. They had UCSB stickers on them so we figured this was an OK spot to park. I walked over to the gate, the one that says Cojo Ranch on it, and examined the string of padlocks. My keen eye noted that one was in place, but not latched. Not knowing better on numerous counts, I took it out, tossed it in the bushes and opened the gate. C'mon in! My friends made me find the lock for later. Since there was no one around, it seemed like this gate was a rarely used access point to empty bluffs so no one would be the wiser. Our original parking plan turned into an exploration plan as we set off south. We passed a group of people, waved, and kept driving past Point Conception. Eventually, we found a dip in a dirt side road and parked. A quick check determined there to be some nice surf with offshore winds and no one around! With a giddy sense of urgency, we bolted and surfed a fun little peak for about 1 hour. As we later would learn, we were between Perko's and Cojo. Since we were so smart, we figured we would go to Lompoc, get a key made for the lock and come back to replace it for future access. We caught a few more and hit the trail. When we approached the gate, things looked different. For one, all the cars were gone. I walked over to the gate and noticed that the previous vacancy had been filled with a NEW LOCK. The words "Bixby Ranch" were neatly engraved on the back. While I scratched my head, Dave figured he would back up his van to start looking for another way out. BOOM, right into the security blazer behind him! A (very angry...) guy with a pistol jumps out and convinces us 100% that we are going to prison. Some times you get the feeling you can talk your way out of something. This wasn't one of those times. "YOU GUYS FKED UP AND NOW YOU ARE GOING TO FKING JAIL!!!" I felt like I was in East Berlin, looking at all the happy tourists leaving the campgrounds beyond the gate, millions of miles away. He yelled all of us, and then took Dave aside for more yelling. We were beat, BAD. Headquarters told him to take us in. Then, somehow, our luck began to change. Dave had told a convincing story that the gate was 'wide open'. Since they knew the UCSB students had trouble with the lock, they bought it. Since our will was totally broken, and he had to let us go, he then related all sorts of funny stories like ours of less fortunate surfers. He asked us if we took any photos and opened the gate. It took us a few miles before we started screaming with joy. It was dark now. We had one headlight, no registration. The last 90-degree turn out of Jalama road is sharp. We went through the turn, up the bank, 'top turned', dropped back in, and pulled it in Dave's beat up VW van! After seeing a stop sign fly by at 55 mph in the middle of nowhere, we figured we should stop for a victory dinner in Guadalupe. We leave the restaurant, do a u-turn and head north. 'I bet they don't look to kindly upon u-turns in business districts..." I said out loud, jokingly. Seconds later we are pulled over. Dave tells the cop that he has no registration since he is about to work on a sailboat for a year and a half. "Oh really?" He returns with Dave's ID. "Drive carefully and have a nice evening." And that we did, with a full moon shining down on our path, and that souvenir padlock on the floor of the front seat. more stories >>