Today was the day. The day of massive surf and flooding beaches.
Not currently having a death wish, I dodged the ferocious South Bay and my whip and I were on the 405 headed south by 6 a.m., rain abound. Feeling like taking a coastal route, I got off along Seal Beach Blvd. and drove along PCH through Huntington, the sun just barely starting to give some luminescence to the cloud cover.
Huntington was firing. I peered out the window periodically and witnessed massive lines coming in, the water churning with energy. I pulled up to a beach in Newport, and the darkness was lit up by the whitewash crashing into the shore. The tide was high and the spot that I saw so calm weeks prior was flooding almost up to the parking lot, and a few souls out were sailing down some solid overhead sets. I geared up and flew out for a few quick inside waves, not confident that I could handle the outside with consistent pumping surf coming in. The violent current was pulling, and I quickly got in and decided to continue my journey south.
Bare perfection. Photo
After a coffee refill and another half hour on the road, I pulled up to Doheny, my home away from home. I had to wipe my tired eyes to make sure that what I was seeing was real. It. Was. Perfect. The beach was bare, and I texted one of the locals, begging for a partner to join in on the magic that I was witnessing. I wasn’t able to round up the troops, and the dirty Doho water was calling my name. I jumped in for what was maybe the best solo session I’ve ever had in my life. The water quality forced me to keep it short, but the few perfect waves I had all to myself practically had me in tears of joy.
I got out and chatted with a few dogwalkers in the parking lot, and was glad to see that a few other souls eventually braved the dirty water for some epic surf. Another trip back up the coast, and I landed home in Hermosa, feeling like I had come back from a weeks vacation – and it wasn’t even noon.
