Fun and Games

Winter Preview

Between Halloween and Thanksgiving the Central Coast got peppered with a good mix of swell. The highlight of course was that five-star southern-hemi event in early November that lit up every spot from Santa Clara to Sand Dollar. Though it was hands-down the top billing on the season’s swell marquee, a few early pulses of northwest snuck in to remind us that it’s that time of year - the time to break out the 4/3, hood and booties, and to consider the ramifications of your gun.
In case you missed them, got them and now miss them, or are wondering what the other spots were doing while you were out killing yours, we’ve put together a Road Map Review of the swells’ various effects on our coast.
Starting up north and working our way down the coast, we tapped a solid mix of images provided to us by a solid mix of photographers. Indeed, there are some great shots of some great surf, and, depending upon how well you scored, viewing the images can be edifying, glorifying or agonizing, or even a combination of all three.
Spot names intentionally left off to protect the innocent. BE
Click Here For Gallery

Northern Exposure

Hubbard Glacier is one of Alaska’s largest living and growing glaciers. From the back mountain ranges of Alaska it pushes and cuts its way some 70 miles plus before depositing its unimaginably large frozen river of ice into the bay of Yakutat.
Flying over it in a bush plane, we got a good look. With unlimited visibility, no wind and calm seas, we were able to cruise along its massive deep-blue colored face, rising in some places as high as 400 feet. In my mind, the Hubbard rates among Mother Nature’s most impressive creations of strength and power.
The town of Yakutat, our final destination, has no interstate highways. Everything that comes into this small enclave comes in by plane or barge. From it, many fish-filled rivers are accessible, but if you’re not prepared with a four-wheel-drive or willing to pony up for a bush plane service then be ready to hike. We did and it was the trip of a lifetime.
I arrived in late September with my good friends Bob and Bill Knapp. Early fall is prime time for the silver salmon to make their annual spawning run up to Situk Lake, and we planned to fish them while working along the banks of the beautiful Situk River.
From the main road out of Yakutat, it’s about one and a half miles to the river, which winds and bends through a mind-blowing rainforest. Supplied with food, water and tackle we hefted our backpacks and walked deep into some of the most amazing scenery and greenery I’d ever encountered. This was my first trip to Alaska and with each step I felt like I was going back in time. And when the sun got high enough to shine down through the rainforest canopy, and the water droplets reflected upon the leaves, I knew I was in a very special place.
Bob and Bill have been making this annual trip to fish salmon and halibut from Yakutat for years, and getting the chance to partake in an Alaskan safari of scenery and bounty with them was like having my own personal guides. Their extensive knowledge and ability to share it with me was key to my success.
Alaskan fishing regulations on tackle and technique are very strict. For example, natural bait is not allowed, nor is the snagging of a fish. Artificial lures such as spoons, flies and jigs are mandatory, and only two fish per day per angler can be taken. The rules are wise and necessary as they ensure a strong run of fish make it to the spawning grounds so we will be able to enjoy this experience for many years to come.
For us, the technique that seemed to work best was jigging, using eight-foot ultra-light fishing rods with a small conventional reel loaded with 10-pound line. This gave us plenty of action as we caught dozens of beautiful silver salmon, releasing most of them so they could continue their ultimate march up the Situk. They averaged eight to 10 pounds with an occasional 15-pound lunker. I can tell you that catching a 15-pound salmon on 10-pound test with ultra-light gear in moving water proved to be a delightful challenge, one that would “hook” anybody onto the fun and excitement of this sport.
But the real success story that day was using Bobby and Bill’s homemade light lead head jigs. Crafted with dark colored feathers, we spot-cast the jigs into the river’s dark holes where the fish seemed to hole up. Casting up stream, we twitched the jigs just before the hole and right in front of the silver’s nose. This proved to be an important technique for catching these elusive fish. It’s pretty exciting when a 10-pound plus salmon hits your lure and in some instances jumps several feet into the air making a loud splash as it lands on the surface of the stream.
Although September is the best time to target silver salmon (Coho), from April through August the rivers of the Yakutat boasts runs of many other type of salmon, including King (Chinook), steelhead, pink, sockeye (Humpback) and Dolly Varden.
The rivers also provide for great clamming. We topped off our salmon fishing right where the Situk meets the sea. Deep in the low tide zone we plucked huge, incredibly tasty clams that we barbecue roasted on the beach. It’s difficult to imagine a better way to enjoy these treats than sitting around an open fire, cold brew in hand, beautiful scenery everywhere you look while talking about the day’s activities and what was coming to us in the days ahead, namely halibut fishing.
Yes, the Yakutat also offers world-class halibut charter fishing. From town, some of the best halibut fishing grounds in Alaska are a short boat trip away. There are many great charter fishing boats available for hire that provide all of the tackle and bait you need to catch that once-in-a-lifetime halibut.
Our fully stocked charter took us out of the protected Yakutat Bay Harbor into gorgeously calm waters where beneath the snow-capped St. Elias Mountains we landed our limits of halibut – some weighing 175 pounds — Ling Cod and several ocean run silver salmon.
Again, the views were spectacular and the fishing was some of the best I’ve ever experienced.
The place, without exaggeration, is magical. I didn’t find it too difficult to sign-up to come back again next year. BE
Click Here For Gallery

November Swell

The front from Canada finally arrived and the favorable wind filled in from the northwest. We had been waiting for several days for these conditions. We did have a deadline to get the boat south to Tortola but now we’d easily make up the time with the following wind and waves. The sky was clear and very cold on this last day of October and we couldn’t wait for the downhill run to warmer water. Our boat is an extreme sailing cat -- 50-feet long with a 30-foot beam, a 78-foot wing mast and light at only 6,000-pounds. She had won many races in her day but now, only a few years old, technology had passed her by. She would be relegated to charter work in the islands.
I had many thousands of miles of offshore sailing experience but my passion is surfing. I had taken a detour from that passion for a chance to work as the captain of this speedster. The boat proved to be profitable in the tourist trade but now I was really excited about getting to the warmer climes and even more excited about the upcoming wave potential. I had no idea one of the best surf sessions ever was a few days away in 50-foot seas, 300 miles from the nearest beach and on a 50-foot board.
It wasn’t long before we sailed south out of the Cape Cod Canal, quickly past Block Island and, to the west, Montauk. Past the shipping lanes for New York Harbor, we soon settled into a routine of three-hour watches with the autopilot steering perfectly. It was a time for reading and napping while off watch and simply checking over the gear for chafe or to make an occasional sail adjustments while on watch.
By the third day we are sailing through the Gulf Stream. This warm current is what keeps the weather in the UK mild, even though it is as far north as Canada. We are taught this current is like a river. I can tell you that is an accurate description. Sailing along in the dark cold waters of the north Atlantic we could see the river, a lighter blue color with floating debris lining her banks. Crossing into the Gulf Stream the temperature is warmer and although we are still speeding across the surface of the water, our speed over the ground has slowed considerably from the speed of the current in the opposite direction of our course.
In the Gulf Stream there are birds picking at the floating debris and a large school of dolphin has surrounded the boat. I go forward in the netting between the two hulls and see 30 dolphins below me. I drag my hands on the surface and the dolphins are happy to have me pet them as they glide along. Many surfers recognize dolphin sightings as a sign of good luck. I’ve often been in the lineup waiting to catch that one last wave in when a few dolphins will swim by and out of nowhere a set marches through. Of course, I wasn’t thinking of surfing on this big cat.
By the time the sun sets on our third day we are back into our routine of three-hour watches. I was taught that when making a passage to take a position every few hours and mark it on the chart. Their gadgets will pinpoint your position on the globe but
Walter, my sailing partner, is old school so we only have a plastic sextant, a compass, and a hand held VHF aboard. With three days sailing, two out of sight of any land, I thought we should check.
Walter grumbled, quickly gazed at the chart and declared, “We are right here,” he said, as he put his finger down on a spot in what seemed like it was too far from land in very open ocean. He could see by my look that I was questioning the accuracy of his declaration. At about this time we noticed another yacht heading south. We decided to call on the VHF to confirm the position. “Can you give us position?” Walter asked. When the coordinates came back and I plotted them on the chart, we were remarkably close to where Walter put his finger. After 15 trips across the Atlantic he obviously saw street signs out there that were invisible to a novice. That was my last time to ask about position.
On the beginning of the fourth day I am on the 6 a.m. watch. During my last watch, which was midnight to 3 a.m., the wind picked up and the swells were getting bigger. Before Walter turned in we took a reef in the main. We were now hitting speeds of 25 knots on occasion and even though the true wind was still on our quarter, our apparent wind or the wind the boat feels was from forward of the beam and it was safer to take the reef. By the time Walter came back on watch with more wind and swell, we took our second reef and rolled in the reacher, too. Finally, at 6 a.m., I came back on and we were sailing along under a double-reefed main and just half of our smaller jib.
The true wind was about 50 knots but it didn’t feel like that to us as we were going in the same direction at 25. The swell was huge but the surface of the sea was relatively smooth and the period between swells was quite long. It was a beautiful clear day and the air was very cold. Soon Walter was snuggled deep inside a sleeping bag and a couple of sails under the windshield. I sat with my warm coffee and the autopilot steering perfectly.
I love to sail offshore but I am a surfer first. And, as any surfer knows, we see things differently. An over hanging tree makes a tube for a bike rider or skater. A bank of any kind is something to turn off of even in a car. So as I sat sipping my coffee I couldn’t help but see the swell. I finished the coffee and stood up to the wheel. I carefully disengaged the autopilot and we were now free. I stayed on the same course for a while to just feel the boat in the swell. Slowly I decided to turn slightly more with the wave and there was instant acceleration as the forces lined up. I slowly moved across the wave and then back to the original course just to feel it. Pretty soon, the turns became a little bigger and sharper as I learned this new board and got a feel for the swell.
It took about 30 minutes to get it wired with the power. I started heading down the face of these huge swells with so much speed that the sails would luff, all the air gone from them. When at the bottom I would make a big left hand bottom turn. The sails would fill and power me back up to the top of the swell and I’d head back down for more. Of course each turn was a tenth of a mile and I could often cover several miles with one ride. Doing this for a while I started to feel all the rhythms of the ocean that all surfers feel. Some waves were better than others with all the intricacies of a local break. I soon was slowing to let a smaller swell go under the boat while I saw a bigger one approaching. Sometimes I would miss one in the maneuvering. Then I would get that one magic one that would combine the speed and power and turns all connected for a long ride.
For nearly three hours this continued uninterrupted. Typically, when on watch, you wake the next person due on a few minutes before hand so he can be up and ready to go. And usually you are more than ready to switch off, too. That morning though I didn’t wake Walter at 9. I didn’t wake him at all. I was having too good a session to stop at a prescribed time.
Eventually, Walter woke on his own at about 9:30 and was surprised at what was going on. He wasn’t a surfer, so he didn’t understand what was happening. I tried to show and coach him on a couple of swells but it was now his watch and the board (boat) was put back on autopilot. During Walter’s watch the wind began to ease and by the time I came back on watch we had shaken out both reefs and the reacher was once again pulling us toward our destination. The magic moment had passed like the perfect session at a low tide reef when the incoming tide puts another two feet on the swell for a couple of hours before it disappears in the high tide. A magic moment of wind and swell never happened again during this passage but thankfully, as surfers, we can recognize these moments when they show themselves. BE
Click Here For Gallery

BrainWaves

It's 5:30 on a cold December morning and you’re up well before the alarm clock is set to go off. Stumbling blindly into the kitchen you boot up your computer to check the swell model. Brightly colored images illuminate the screen — large swatches of yellow, orange and red. The page reads 17 feet @ 17 seconds, with a 290 degree swell heading. You’re not quite fully awake yet, but your heart starts pounding. It’s Big Monday.
In a heightened state of arousal you slip into your clothes, load up your gear and head out into the predawn darkness. Visions of double-overhead sets bathed in grey light dance inside your head. The butterflies begin to swarm furiously.
Fifteen minutes later you pull off the highway and into the parking lot. By now the sky is beginning to lighten and across the lot you see a couple of your local buddies. You grab your board and gear and join them on the walk down the trail. Your adrenaline is pumping as much as the swell is while the neurotransmitter dopamine is being released as your brain and body are preparing for an extraordinary experience.
When you reach the lookout your eyes are immediately drawn out toward a monstrous olive green wall that peels across the point, untouched by the morning crowd. It’s huge. Then another macker rolls in behind it. Then another. You ask yourself, “Am I really up for this?” A couple of guys start paddling out, and your internal dialog grows louder. “Should I go out here or check out that other spot that only rarely breaks on swells like this?”
Over the next few minutes you just sit there and observe, paying close attention to the position of the paddling channels, where the sets are breaking, and monitoring the length of the lulls between them. Once you’ve got all of that sorted out, you begin to loosen up and systematically stretch out your muscles. You don’t want to have to worry about cramping up in this critical situation. A few more minutes of stretching followed by some deep breathing, and it’s time for you to paddle out.
Thanks in part to your diligence in studying the surf you’ve managed to time things just right, and make it outside without incident, conserving your energy for more important things to come later.
Talking with veteran local surfer Baron Spafford recently, we had a discussion centered on aspects specific to big wave surfing. Baron shared a personal experience with me, a story of a near-death episode that occurred at Sunset Beach on the North Shore of Oahu many years ago.
He described the experience as “life-changing,” having been resuscitated from a virtual state of clinical death. Baron was rescued only when somebody noticed his surfboard tombstoning in the impact zone. His leash was his lifeline, and the board itself was the marker buoy. Luckily, following a helicopter ride and a few days’ rest in the intensive care unit, Baron survived to surf another day, albeit with a newfound appreciation for life and a deeper respect for the ocean.
Big-wave surfing is undoubtedly the apex experience for all surfers. To be sure, cruising small waves, hot-dogging, fancy footwork or perhaps performing aerial maneuvers can be exhilarating, but most surfers share the dream of riding giant waves as if the act were some sort of Jungian archetype in their collective unconscious. Riding big surf is all about true grit, guts and “balls of granite.” In these critical situations, surfers really are “hanging on the ledge,” virtually experiencing the dialectic that exists between life and death, the simultaneous mixture of both fear and excitement.
It’s not uncommon to hear surfers talk about being pinned to the ocean floor, and asking God for favors. Distinguished surf legend Mark Foo, the “Hawaiian Hellman” who lost his life several years ago while surfing at Maverick’s in Northern California, has been credited with the saying, “To get the ultimate thrill, you must be ready to pay the ultimate price.”
Unfortunately, his summation was incredibly accurate...
Out in the lineup you sense the approach of a massive set bearing down on you from the horizon. The adrenaline junky that you are, your body begins producing endorphins, and the levels of dopamine and norepinephrine elevate dramatically. At the same time, the portion of your brain responsible for fear, the amygdala, begins working overtime. As you paddle intensely toward the oncoming set, a “flow state” seemingly takes over, the result of confidence and competence based on your years of previous experience in the water. At this point it’s all about wave knowledge, experience, skill and timing. Muscle memory kicks in as you stroke into the first wave of the set. The wave is an honest 8-footer, and you soon begin to experience total nirvana, or what is otherwise known to surfers as stoke.
After a long, hard session, you head to shore, exhausted but awake, energetic, and yes, even feeling “high.” The magic of that nirvana is tied to how the human body responds to stimuli we find pleasurable or exciting. In these moments it increases the release of some of the best feel good drugs around — endorphins and dopamine.
A temporary elevated level of dopamine is activated when we engage in natural rewards (e.g., getting barreled), and often leads to an improvement in mood, alertness and libido. Discovered in 1975, endorphins are believed to relieve pain, enhance the immune system, reduce stress, and to delay the aging process. Generally speaking, exercise stimulates the release of endorphins, sending these chemicals throughout the body whereby you might experience the sensation of feeling high. You often hear runners talk about this state/experience. Surfers simply call it being stoked.
Dopamine and endorphins go hand in hand. Dopamine is found in areas of the brain where endorphins are released. When endorphin levels increase, so do dopamine levels. And when endorphins decrease, dopamine production lessens. Research has proven that mental fitness is indeed tied to increased levels of these feel good drugs.
So now, you are heading back to town, surfed out, relaxed and hungry and you are reminded of just why exactly you got up at 5:30 on this cold December morning. It’s not even lunchtime and you’ve already had an incredible day. BE
Click Here For Gallery

Profile

Catherine “Wildcat” Clark: Age 14 , Ventura

Interview and photos by Chris Keet

Catherine “Wildcat” Clark is making a run up the regional and state ranks with the dream of becoming a WCT professional. Over the last three years she has evolved from a competitive novice into one of the top surfers in the highly competitive NSSA Gold Coast and Southwest Open seasons, most recently becoming the youngest surfer of the season to make a final at the Pacific Beach event.
Although her results speak for themselves, the gifted 14-year-old remains humble, preferring to focus her energy on continuous improvement rather than basking in her accomplishments.
Chris Keet dropped in on Catherine for a little Q&A interview to get an inside look at her life, goals and favorite things.
How did you get into surfing?
My dad first pushed me into a wave in Santa Monica when I was 4 but I didn’t exactly get hooked. I paddled out by myself when I was about 8 at my brother’s beach birthday party and from then on I couldn’t stop.
What is your favorite part of surfing?
I love how when I go out for a surf everything in my life vanishes and it’s just me and the waves.
When did you first start competing?
My first competition was the Roxy Wahine Classic in San Onofre in 2003. I was 9 years old and longboarding. I ended up fourth in the 10-and-under final and I was really bummed because I wanted to win.
What is a standard day like for you?
This is my first year home schooling so I am able to make my own schedule. Basically, I wake up, grab a bite to eat, and then go check the waves and go surfing. Surfing will probably take up my whole day from about 11 or 12 until to 3 or 4 in the afternoon. Then I will come home, go on MySpace for a bit, eat dinner and do my homework!
Recent accomplishments?
I recently got on Billabong ... does that count?
Where do you see yourself in five years?
In five years, I see myself traveling the world. I want to be highly ranked in the WQS and on my way to the WCT.
What are some of your favorite tunes?
I like hardcore before my heats to get me pumped. But I really enjoy just mellow music. Timmy Curran’s new CD, “Word of Mouth,” is definitely one of my favorites.
Favorite surfers?
Dane Reynolds, Tom Curren, Mick Fanning and Steph Gilmore
Favorite movies?
Superbad, Talladega Nights, The Butterfly Effect
Favorite surf spots?
Rincon, and the rest are a secret.
Have you spent much time traveling?
Last summer I drove for two days down to Scorpion Bay in Mexico with my family. We stayed down there for four days, got completely skunked and drove home. It was a great experience though and I found out that a surf trip is not only about the waves, but the adventure of getting there as well. I’m planning on going down longer this summer. That’s pretty much the only surf trip I have ever been on.
What are your dreams for the future?
I want to win a World Title. I know that it will take a lot of hard work to make this dream a reality and I’m ready to do it!
Anything else you wish to say about yourself?
I love sushi.
Shout outs and thank yous?
I want to say thanks to my parents for their love and support. Thanks to the local boys for pushing my surfing and helping me out. My sponsors for taking the best care of me, and thanks to my coaches Chris Keet and Matt Malone, and the team at Surf Happens for keeping it positive and helping me pursue my dream.

2007 STATS
2nd overall Gold Coast Girls NSSA season 2006-07
Currently Ranked 2nd Gold Coast Girls NSSA 2007-08
Currently Ranked 2nd Gold Coast Womens NSSA 07-08
Currently Ranked 6th Southwest Open Womens NSSA 07-08
1st Place Girls VQS El Porto 9/07
2nd Place Girls VQS Mandalay 11/07
NSSA Southwest Open finals Pacific Beach 11/07
1st Place Girls Shortboard & Womens Longboard
WSA 06-07 Season

SPONSORS
Billabong, Surf Happens, One Way Boardshop,
Roberts Surfboards, Hoven , Pro-lite.
Click Here For Gallery