Well here’s to the second time writing this post due to technical malfunctions. Computers are lame. Surfboards are cool.
The Queen. Rincon, prized jewel of the California Coast, with steep lines so long and wave shape on the coattails of perfection that it was given a royal nickname.
After a morning of glistening waist high bliss at C Street in Ventura, a break, much coffee, and many snacks, I got the tipoff about the Queen from Tyler Stover, son of one of my awesome coworkers Eve, who went from South Bay native to local Venturan. “It’s good.”
One more short text — “Dane (Reynolds) is out. Imma snake him.” That was enough for me to slowly get my gear together and make my way down, body mad at me from being sick and not resting, using lots of saltwater therapy as my only remedy. My surfmobile and I cut through the dense fog, got to the parking lot, and I clambered down the branch and leaf-ridden path with my big blue longboard, the ceiling-high sets bringing me to a complete halt when I stepped out from behind the bushes and onto the rocky beach.
I paddled in the safety zone, far to the left of the heaving incoming sets, and as I was bobbing and trying to avoid waves crashing on my head, things seemed to be getting even bigger. I caught a couple smaller, still overhead insiders, lungs on fire on the exhausting paddles back out. After one excitingly long ride, I got caught inside by what seemed like neverending set waves, tried to scurry to the left of the point to make it over the breakers and back outside. Once there, I got my bearings and realized that I was sitting in front of rocks and had been swept down the beach by the current. The water was moving like a river and I was paddling hard against it, rocks 20 feet behind me and waves still coming in. I felt like an idiot, not paying attention and timing my waves correctly beforehand, but I was able to make it back to the beach unscathed (well… not mentally).
A breather on a large tree stump to get my head straight, still dazed from that gnarly flu that was going around, and one last go at The Queen in all of her might…. a few more much-taller-than-me waves, flying fast and free through the fog and carving around the occasional suited companion. That royal goddess of a wave sure does satisfy.
