When Labor Day came and went back in September, I remember being borderline depressed and saying to my wife: "You know, summer just passed us by and we didn't do s*&t!"
The only thing keeping me really sane was that we had a couple of trips planned for Fall, which is by far my favorite time of year in California. The weather is typically great everywhere, the surf is usually good to great and the water isn't freezing yet, and I like the idea that one week you can wear shorts and a t-shirt, while the next you might need to put on a sweater and pants or a rain jacket.
Two weeks ago we were in Big Sur for our annual trip there. Usually we try and go around July 4th, but this year the timing with our friends and reservations at Ripplewood didn't work out. Being there is enough of a treat. This year, Nathan was old enough to actually experience and enjoy the surroundings, which was fun. We threw rocks into the Big Sur River, looked up at the trees and down at the ocean, we hiked a few short trails, and he was generally excited to be there. We did get skunked, trying to get down to Pfeiffer Beach. The road was closed at the top of the beach access road, with no indication as to why it was closed. I proposed to Jo on that beach, and really wanted to take Nathan down, so we cursed at the sign blocking our way. Later and over sunset cocktails at Nepenthe, our waitress told us that they shut down a few of the well-traveled roads because of the high fire danger and that all the Big Sur fire volunteers were in Southern California helping the crews there. So, we apologized and tipped a glass to the fire fighters. We'll be back next year and can go to the beach.
Fast forward (or rewind?) to last weekend, for my other annual trip to El Capitan State Beach, in Santa Barbara County. On Saturday, me, Justin and Scott surfed fun but small, waist-high Tajuigas alone and in pea-soup fog. We actually got to ride the break affectionately known to us as Three-Times, because we've been told the reef only breaks three times a year. We surfed for about two hours at low tide, trading waves and having a blast until around 12:30pm. We dried out and warmed up on the beach with lunch and a couple of beers, then headed back to our camp around 3pm.
At about 4pm as the sun started to set, and with each of us toting stiff rum-and-Cokes, we took the short walk down to the point at El Cap just to look. Over the 12 years I've been driving and surfing and camping along this stretch of coastline, I've never seen the legendary wave at El Cap break. As we rounded the point almost three sheets to the wind, we saw four guys bobbing in the water. What? It was breaking! At almost high tide, the waves were peeling like they were being pumped out of a machine -- perfect rights zipping down the point, most going unridden. The main takeoff point was in dangerously shallow water over big cobblestones, but the wave headed out to deeper water at about waist to belly high. Perfect. It was unreal. We were kicking ourselves for being too tipsy to paddle out; this is what we have been waiting for... why we make the trek to this place every year!
As the sun went down, we caught the eye of an older guy who was bagging every wave he wanted, having his run of the place and loving it. We raised our glasses to him, which he acknowledged with a smile and a wave. We could only laugh, satisfied we had surfed earlier in the day and were lucky enough to get wet at what we like to think as our own personal spot, about two miles north at Tajuigas Beach.
And, well, there's always next Fall. Bottoms up.
