The Rocks at Kelly’s Cove, Ocean Beach, SF

In the words of Duke Kahanamoku, the famed great-grandfather of the sport who surfed his native Oahu and waves the world over (he is credited with launching the sport in Australia at a surf exhibition in 1915), “Be patient, wave come. Wave always come” (Moore, Sweetness and Blood 30).

I believe this is the first lesson of surfing. We study the conditions, familiarize ourselves with wind direction and how it effects the waves, the offshore storms that propel the size of the swell, the timing of the tides. Here at Ocean Beach, there are two lineups. One in the water, where you can see at least a handful of surfers on most days of the year. The other is on the shoreline, where any number of us cross the Great Highway to stare out at the waves from the graffiti-ed esplanade or from the shelter of cars facing West in the parking lot. We’re all contemplating something. Daniel Duane describes it like this: “When Vince rode his bike to the cliff each morning to calculate the day’s optimal conflation of elements, he was, in a sense, looking for that moment when the world would intone just what he—and I—most wanted to hear….The world then seemed to have a humane design; or, to take the other tack, my own relationship to the world seemed finally clear enough to realize nature’s capacity for precise expression” (Duane, Caught Inside 79).

Case in point, I haven’t gotten in the water yet for this project, and this seems the first realistic requirement of the mission. Two lessons have been called off, the most recent on account of the last storm and south winds coming in at 17 kts, exactly what you don’t want at a south-facing beach like Cowell’s. Onshore winds mean the waves will collapse faster, creating froth and uneven breaks. “I’m dodging storms for you,” my instructor Ed says. He has been the owner and operator of Club Ed International Surf School and Camps for the past 20 years, and he’s spent the last 40 surfing the region. “There are no guarantees with the weather. It’s a roll of the dice.”

The next day I can get down to Santa Cruz will be the best swell all year, creating waves far too big for my beginner’s fears, questions, and awe. By the end of the week things should have settled enough for me to have a good experience, Ed says. “At 2PM on Thursday, the tides should be perfect.” Ed also reminds me that all this dodging and rolling should give me a good sense of what it’s really like chasing good waves, something to write about, in other words, which is the prevailing passion in this equation anyhow.

In the meantime, I dive back into my books and articles and films on the sport, and read that surfers should stay out of the water for 72 hours after rainfall, but many will not if the right conditions present themselves. Indeed, the very next day was stunning, well into the 70s here at Ocean Beach, nothing but sun, folks of all ages lost in all kinds of play, easily 100 surfers in the water, and my eyes on the break rolling in with all the reliance of time. No guarantees.

Yesterday morning, 7:30 AM, another roll. The ocean so glassy it looked like lake-blue sheets, occasionally wiped smooth by a palm between soft rows of ripple. I imagined a goddess at leisure periodically dipping her finger many miles offshore to test the temperature, to see what might happen. The water was calm enough for two stand up paddle boarders (SUPing, as it’s called) to enjoy the entire stretch of Ocean Beach between Lincoln Avenue and Kelly’s Cove. It was all theirs. It was all ours.

This morning, so much foam collected on the beach that the sand almost looked like it had broken out in a rapidly spreading rash. I’ve read recently about California’s Contaminated Coastline. Another fallout of the economy, recent state budget cuts have meant a suspension in beach testing, so who’s to know the exact levels of bacteria in the water these days? Coastal residents are hoping that the testing programs can resume soon, but it’s all a question of the economy picking up, or not. All I know is that there wasn’t one surfer in the water. But Surfline confirms the waves were on the sluggish side this morning. The swell is on the rise, however, and double overhead can be expected across the region by this afternoon (Surfline.com, Surf Report Ocean Beach, 11.2.10).

So, patience is the key and conjures a presence that is just as demanded of you whether you’re in or out of the water. I’m content in watching the ocean change, in figuring out how I might change with it (after all, I’ll be moving 6,000 miles south and 100 miles inland come June). I’m taking part in a timeless gaze, and I’m far from the first compelled to write about it. Most of the books I’ve read have mentioned literary legends who have penned their impressions, from Mark Twain to Isabella Bird to Jack London (Comer, Surfer Girls in the New World Order 9), though they offered the perspective of writers rather than surfers. Today, surfers who became writers rightfully dominate the field. Matt Warshaw, for instance, started surfing in 1969 and began writing about it 1983, one year after he was ranked 45th in the world on the professional surfing circuit.

For this project, I’m moving a little backwards, perhaps. But I’m starting with the same material: the ocean. As Ryan says, “Once you take it on, you’re going to look at the ocean differently for the rest of your life. You’ll have more respect for the ocean and more awareness of your surroundings. You’re going to develop this relationship with something that’s life-changing. ”