Hey does anybody know if it's possible to body surf anywhere on the west coast? I grew up near DC, body surfing in waters off Ocean City, MD. Thanks, surrounded by an ocean of land in Iowa 9-:
________________________________ From: marekreavis <reavisma...@sbcglobal.net> To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com Sent: Tuesday, May 15, 2012 10:14 PM Subject: [FairfieldLife] Surf report (kind of long) A couple of buddies of mine have started getting in early morning sessions before work at the North Jetty on the Samoa peninsula that separates Humboldt Bay from the Pacific Ocean. It's only a 15-minute drive from Eureka where we all live but it's a place I've only surfed a half-dozen times and it's mostly a short board break and there's occasional attitude directed at longboarders. Plus, you need a four-wheel drive to get to the beach on the deep-sand covered track through the beach grass. I haven't developed much familiarity or liking for the break, consequently. But anyway, yesterday I was in court waiting for a case to be called and I texted my friend Ric and asked him how it was that morning. "Epic!" he texted back and "sorry, I didn't want to tell you." It's funny but the idea that people I know are out catching waves at the same time that I'm not . . . It just creates a dissonance in my mind unlike any other emotion. Not envy, but a sense of loss. . . maybe lost opportunity. Something like that. That text motivated me. So the alarm goes off this morning at 3:45 and I get up and do my routine before Ric comes over at 5. He arrives, I load up my stuff, we go over to Jackson's, he loads up his stuff, and then we drive over the three bridges that connect Eureka with the peninsula via Woodley Island. It's all foggy and still dark, and when we crest the dune to park on the beach we can't see the waves for the fog and the dark. There's a fog horn behind us sounding off every 15 seconds. And every few minutes there's an answering horn from some boat far away and lost to any sight. We walk down to the water and peer out, straining to make out something, but except for the little waves breaking just a few feet away, we can't see anything. We suit up, wax our boards, and walk into the surf. There's a rip that goes right along the rocks of the jetty and you can ride that out as far as you want and then paddle out of it to where the waves are breaking. It's a real time and energy saver since the waves are forming up maybe 300+ yards from shore and even though you still do a lot of paddling, you get twice the distance with each stroke. So at first we're just sitting on our boards, rising and falling on the swell, straining into the murk to catch the first sight of waves that appear suddenly and then roll on underneath us to disappear again in the fog. Seal heads pop up right next to us occasionally and check us out. As the fog lightens with the early morning sun there are gaps here and there where a window to the ocean a hundred yards away reveals a hundred brown pelicans rocking on the same swell as we. Another surfer joined us and nodded in silent acknowledgment of our commonality. After we figured out where we wanted to be we paddled out to where the waves started to break. We posted up in a haphazard line and waited for a wave. The first wave of the day, everyone paddled for it and we all caught it. A party wave! We were pretty spread apart so there was no issues about anyone taking someone else's wave. It was perfect. And if it was shy of "epic", it was, nonetheless, as fine a morning program as I've ever had.
