Toobs.com

	Wisdumb
	The Buddy System (10-26-03) I am officially done with summer. Granted, I did have some pretty fine sessions at 2 select, privileged breaks. But you can only twist your knickers so far at the thought of 2-4' and 'fun' surf packed with groveling monkeys and glistening, puffy tourists. This summer offered essentially one (1) decent south swell to hit California of any consequence. The glam factor was high in that it fell right on my birthday and buffeted our coast for 5 days. I would love to show you the pictures but then I would have to kill you. Speaking of killing… Despite the sunny weather, it is now fall. Fall is usually the best month for surf for us in California since the NW swells start up combined with straggler south swells to keep it real. The weather and wind is favorable and overall, it means winter is coming. In Santa Barbara proper, the early NW swells usually pass us by with notable exceptions. To do it right, you still need to travel. I had just scored some south swell with the satisfaction that others blew it since we were surfing 3-6' wedging grinders by ourselves. Mmm, pity. The coming weekend, I drove north to Bodega Bay (1 hour north of San Francisco) for some R&R. My trip coincided perfectly with a massively hyped swell so I was pretty excited. The weather was great and the swell was hammering. Unlike Santa Barbara, up there, the surfing spots are pretty slim and brutal. Doran Beach is a gutless beach break for when things get too big everywhere else, and Salmon Creek is rough and tumble and takes some work to get organized. There are some other spots I am sure, but I won't humor those who surf and protect them with my sparse information and broad generalities. It is also "red" October and the last person attacked by a shark was a sponger at Salmon Creek last November. The bottom line is that I brought my surf gear for essentially symbolic reasons. Instead of pretending I have what it takes to go toe to toe with a lumpy double-overhead swell and no channel or shape, we decided to go to Portuguese beach, just north of Salmon Creek. At this particular beach, all but the biggest waves make it to the beach without breaking and then unload in shattering shore break. The unsurvivability and gnarliness of the spot make the spectator action irresistible. That's why we GO there. It is a dark sand beach a couple hundred meters long with 6-10' waves with foot-thick lips breaking 10 feet off the sand with much fanfare. The cusped shore focuses the water back into rivers that rush back to the washing machine for the next wave. It is the beach that defines the warnings of "undertow"; the kind that strip inattentive parents of their kids like ripe fruit fed to wild boars. Big waves pounding on shore or rock is great therapy. I can, and should watch that stuff for hours. We are mesmerized by the unforgiving power and beauty. But, it was missing something; the human element. I look over and much to my joy and anticipation, are two dudes with a skim board. I have my camera and remark that this is too good to be true. I also say that I hope they are professionals. One guy starts skimming high up the beach while the other videos. I think that this is good because it is safe and they are just goofing around. Next thing I know, the guy loses his board and tries to grab it. Instantly, he is racing down the beach in that river of water headed right for the meat grinder. By this time, I had thoroughly convinced myself that I would have a 50:50 chance of making it out of the frothing ice-water alive with no wetsuit, board or fins. So here is this guy in the impact zone, unable to do anything about it, getting absolutely pounded by relentless surf. Picture the small child taking a short cut through the yard and being discovered by the three 150 pound rottweilers. Naturally, I take some photos, thinking he will somehow make it out. Then, his friend runs down the beach and tries to save him. The guy is taking waves on the head without trying to survive and his friend isn't doing too much better. A big wave nails the first guy and he doesn't come up. He finally surfaces, and I realize that I am watching not one but two guys die in front of me and there is nothing I can do about it, without making it three. Amazingly, the two get washed up the beach and some lady grabs one and stops them from being washed back. I give Ellie my camera, wallet, backpack and sandals and sprint over. I grab the guy's arm and give him the look "OK, I got you, LET'S GO!" and he ain't going nowhere. And he's heavy. And he's nude. It takes a lot to blast off a bathing suit. Luckily, some other guy comes over and we drag the 170 pound sack of waterlogged potatoes up the sand to safety. He pukes up a bit of foam but is OK. After the adrenaline wears off, I get shaky. I have always enjoyed tourists getting worked through their ignorance but this was different. You are watching someone die, good lighting, good seats, and there is nothing you can do to stop it without the likely chance you will die too. What if it was your friend or brother? What if it was you and your friend was on shore considering the same risk? We are all mortal and this was a solid reminder. I woke up at 6AM the next morning, still dark, unable to sleep, mulling over the possibilities, variables and potential outcomes. I walked over to the two guys, shivering and bundled in a towel, handed him my business card and told him I got a picture of his friend nearly dying, just email. The only thing I knew was that if it were me, I would want that picture. more stories >>