The Creek in January

The creek had puked enough in recent history to set up the sand bar. depositing that fine granular wonder in such a precise way that when the swell wrapped into it, it was right of near Malibu quality and about head high.

We staved off the cold morning with a double helping of pancakes and eggs, sloshed some horribly strong coffee into our near frosted mugs and drove to the confluence of the big blue and this magical set up.

There were 4 guys in the water when we got there and three came in while we were suiting up. A couple Surfrider guys we had been running into lately and a retired surf shop owner.
We chatted as we readied and they unreadied.

Another guy pulled up and made haste to get in the water. I would later find out he was a crab fisherman and this would be his first session since the opening of the season in early December.
By the time we made it into the line up this made four guys in the water.

The paddle out was easy. One lunge off the rocks and a head dip followed by a few hundred yards of dry hair/hood paddling.

There was frost on the sand still, in spite of the sun being in full bloom by this later hour of the morning.

The waves would wrap in and there was a narrow take off area centered around a crab buoy that was certainly attached to a pot that had gone astray.

If you were a yard too deep, you would not make it around the lip, but even in the right spot it had the feel of instant closeout. One of those leaps of faith situations on each wave.

Once down the face and turning from the bottom you could see the right line up for hundreds of yards.

This lasted for many waves, but relatively short.

Tide fluctuations here are exaggerated and all the breaks change more rapidly than most places I have known.

What was a wonderful long and nearly flawless right, was soon a cacophony of mostly closed out sections and beat downs across the rocks inside.

But for that short hour and a half, it was pure bliss.

Nothing but smiles.