La Jolla Shores, 1982-83, El Nino. Late December
Oft
times the only thing good that comes out of a situation is the story we tell.
Mid-winter
at La Jolla Shores. Griff and I had
paddled out through the largest, rideable, waves we had ever seen at the shores. We worked ourselves out to the furthest area
of the line-up and had successfully ridden several of the larger set waves. During the lull between sets we noticed, on
the horizon, what appeared to be an uneasy edge like the tracks left by a chip
in a thick dip. This was a definite
indication that a seriously, larger, set was on the way. A set this size would surely be all total close
outs and our best move was to stroke for the horizon and deeper water. We were already at the outside point of the
line-up and felt sure that we would, with a good effort, easily get to a safe
area to wait out the coming monsters.
As the
set got close it seemed to get bigger.
The first two waves rose under us with a powerful lift but were of no
threat to us. Looking at the third we
could see it trying to feather and come over but that one also only threw
buckets of water in our faces. As I rode down the back I could see number four
coming at me with lots of water blowing up and over the face which was ready to
break, possibly on me. I stroked with
all my might up the base. It rose abruptly pushing me to an almost vertical
position when I heard Griff yell out as he popped over the crest, “there’s a
bigger one outside”. The wave was now coming
over and I punched the nose of the board into the belly of the crest, I felt it
grab on to me but I had enough speed to burst through and exploded out the back
completely leaving the water as it pulled away.
Looking out I saw what Griff had, a huge wave that I had no chance of
getting past.
As my
board slapped down on the back of Number four I just sat up and looked at what
was coming. “Joe never told me what to
do in this situation”. Should I stroke
as hard as I could, possibly, to get past the crashing lip and maybe get spit
out the back with minimal damage. Should
I stay where I was and let the lip come over just short of me and hope for the
best in the aftermath of the impact.
Possibly in either case the lip could land directly on me leading to no
good. My choice was to abandon the board
and try to get to the bottom and make like a sand crab.
All of
these thoughts occurred in the matter of a second, two at most. It seemed like
longer at the time.
I heard
the impact of the wave crashing down on the surface and then felt the weight of
tons of water smashing me down on the sandy bottom. I was pressed there for a moment then yanked
up toward the surface by the bounce only to be crushed back down by the massive
body of the wave, again bouncing off the bottom to be once again grabbed up by
the main part of the wave, dragged all the way to the top popping out at the
highest point just long enough for one gulp of air and time enough to know
where I was and that things were just beginning to happen. Then over the edge for the full drop becoming
a just bit of flotsam crashing toward the surface and beyond, ultimately,
again, to the bottom. There I remained bouncing and tumbling along in a blend
of sand, water and bubbles for a time and then a bit longer. Time came for me to stop relaxing, to save
oxygen, and get to the surface for some air but where, exactly was the surface.
I, finally, felt the bottom and pushed off stroking towards the air. My head
popped out to be met by froth and foam; I kicked to get above it and finally
got another gasp in the air.
As soon as I inhaled another wave came down on my head. By this time I had been drug inside to where
the normal, large, sets were breaking. Down I went again to the bottom.
Up to
this point I had not even thought of my board but with this wave I felt a great
pull on my leg and then an instant release, the leash had snapped. My first
thought was “thank god I can go home”, I am a good body surfer and knew I could
get to the beach safely.
I
tumbled around some more and made my way to the surface planning to start
swimming but as I looked around I saw my board floating about ten feet from me,
what a loyal board. I swam over and
grabbed it just as the next wave arrived. That wave grabbed me and my
floatation device and off we went toward the beach.
I had
to struggle to get in a good position over the tail for the ride home. The ride was very bumpy and I could not get
my head out of the white water to get more air. It was a little humorous
thinking that after all I had just gone through I was going to drown on my
board because of the size of the white water.
When I
arrived at the beach I was exhausted, I rested in the shallows for a few
minutes, stood up and with my board struggled up the beach. Looking south down the beach I saw, what
appeared to be, ten or more loose, boards with broken leashes.
This was a definitive “Sneaker”, Clean-up Set a product of the El Nino,
1983.
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