Territorial Pissings

Did you solve your surf spot Rubik’s cube this week? Pleasant winter conditions and a variety of swells made it a confusing week to be a surfer. On the surface, it was a no-brainer “Good-to-Epic” forecast: light winds, sunshine and swell all week.

Hold my calls, I’m surfing!

The story at the beach was a bit more challenging though. Fickle sandbars, wild offshore winds and some very choosy swell angles shut down many spots and played tricks on others —  I saw everything from rare chip-ins at Mavericks, The Eddie swell smorgasbord (Luke Shepardson!), offseason south swell pouring through summer spots in January and then some dead flat winter focal points the swell missed entirely one day, only to reemerge the following day double the size that was forecast. Not to mention the herds of fair weather surfers frothing. It’s been pumping…but puzzling. But I put in the work this week.

There’s a guy in town that I only see surfing when it’s uncrowded and firing. He’s a ghost otherwise. I’ve never seen him out when it’s walled, under head high, has even a puff of onshore wind on it, or surfing among any more than five people. I’ve never even seen him outside the surf grabbing a coffee or a burrito. He exclusively surfs the best spot when no one is out and disappears. Seeing him is like seeing God: If he’s there you can be sure you’re in heaven.

Well, I saw this guy three times this week! And in different locations each time. I rose early and sniffed out the good sandbars last week so I was on my game. Stacking waves when no one was looking. Zigging when others zagged. After years of investing time at a location, it’s kind of like beating the game after you have a two week run like this, knowing you got the most out of what was on offer while the less prepared floundered.

This morning, as we neared the end of this funky run of swell and pleasant weather, I paddled out in the dark to grab the remnants before the masses. I knew it would get crowded today. Friday and sunny. After a few good ones, right on cue, I watched them wavestorm down the cliff and into the sea. But it was OK. I had already gotten mine.

As the sun warmed the day, the wavestormers were joined by other beachgoers and I bellied in, totally content. Back at the car I was greeted by a crowded parking lot full of the general public getting in their California love. Joggers, bikers, surfers, dog walkers, kayakers and transients all enjoying the blue waves and skies. I pulled out out of my parking spot, glanced in the rear view mirror and noticed the pool of water left in the lot from my water jug. My territory firmly marked.—Travis Ferré

Above artwork: [Mid Winter, Agnes Martin, ca. 1954]