This morning, I paddled out at the infamous Silver Strand in Oxnard--known for its amazing waves given its prime location in between the wave-blocking path of the Channel Islands as well for its ramant localism up until the late 90s--feeling eager to catch some perfect waves. There has been some hefty North Pacific storms that have pushed some god sized swell our way. Coupled with the morning offshore winds, the outcome is as you see above, perfectly shaped waves with spitting barrels: exactly what I had dreamt. I was with my buddy whom I have known since our days at the Growing Place pre-school. I felt ready to hit the surf, he was wary of the oversized waves we were paddling into. I felt ready and in-shape with just the right amount of gutsiness. We both had not surfed since Thanksgiving yet our perceived readiness of our impending session varied greatly.
The water smelled like goat waste. Great. I didn't care. Most of Southern California coast line carried this aroma after a rain. As we paddled out, I felt the power of the ocean as each wave held me back from my destination of sitting past the breakers. It took perhaps 10 minutes and when we got there, I lay flat on my yellow thruster in temporary exhaustion, all the while, mountains of energy peaked and broke around me. I could not fathom taking off on one of these perfect A-frames just yet. The paddle out itself had taken a toll.
The weight of the situation began to dawn on me. It fell on me instantly as I paddled for a peak and looked over a drop that quickly grew to a vertical precipice. This wasn't a longboard wave like Surfrider where you could leisurely drop in and and cut down the line. This was solely a short board wave that jacked up in no time where only a calculated fall into the slot would then lead you into a rushing pit of 50 degree water with a lip of water curling over your bent head. Ok, I thought, wake up. Let's get serious. As I sat in the moving water, waves crashing on the jetty 40 feet to my west, peaks lining and jacking up continuously, I felt my grand influence in the Pacific Ocean: nothing.
A dolphin swam by. Beautiful, glistening monsters strolled into shore. Every take off on a wave was met by the cool, brisk swap of the windswept water in my face. I was humbled. No longer a surfrider who had come to conquer the waves and prove his worth, but a man who is here to witness the awesome power and cold beauty of the ocean.
Now go watch videos of Laird Hamilton on YouTube:
