Today’s conditions brought me back to winter of 2012, a day consisting of heavy rain and barrels. The forecast called for overcast clouds, rain, and moderate ESE wind. I prepared my foul weather gear in case I still had to be out there shooting if conditions were good enough. The NWS issued a beach hazard warning in advance of an incoming swell that took effect Christmas morning, but contradicted the forecast on Surfline, which said the swell wasn’t moving in til the evening. Nevertheless, it really cleaned up as the tide dropped late morning. The offshores gained momentum and layers of clouds started to appear. What was fascinating was how fast the clouds were changing, morphing into different shapes and forms by the minute. There was plenty of barrels to be had, a green room almost every wave. The lefts were peeling, the rights were draining. The sun almost poked through the thick layer of Nimbostratus clouds at times, giving the waves a classic dark green look with a dark blue background. The forerunners did not show up until right before dark, and amazingly, I was spared the rain for the day.

Merry Christmas.

I’m always on the lookout for barrels, even when there are none.

Happy Holidays to all.

Wintergreen. November 2019

It’s that time of the year again when we’re supposed to be thankful and spend valuable time with our friends and family. Ironically, it is also the time when we’re encouraged to spend more money on unnecessary stuff because everything is 50% off or something. I looked out the window first thing in the morning and saw a familiar offshore spray; I was not expecting it to be that good since the wind was howling WNW a couple days before. This year, instead of spending all day on the internet and debating whether I should sink entire paychecks for more camera gear, I layered up, grabbed my camera and walked to the beach. Out front of my house, the waves weren’t that great; it was kind of wonky still and the tide was rising to a 5.9ft. I scoped around with my binoculars and noticed one peak way down south was continually spitting. It turns out there was an inner bar, making it super hollow, fast, and dumpy. I quickly made my way down. The sets kept coming; surfers were making it out of deep barrel sections; it was hard to leave despite my hands freezing from the cold wind and my camera battery running low. The swell wasn’t that big, but it was super clean even with the inside current ripping south. It wasn’t long before I realized I had been there almost all morning. I went home, ate a quick lunch, grabbed another battery and headed back out. Rarely does it stay consistently good from dawn to dusk, but it was, so I couldn’t leave. It was a classic winter day. 

Happy Thanksgiving.

Is there ever such a thing as too offshore (for surfers)? The weather forecast predicted wind gusts up to 40+ mph which was bad news for the wildfires but exciting news for surfers and surf photographers. I heard the wind howling in the early hours of the morning. At the crack of dawn, I put on my wind breaker and headed out to see how the ocean looked. Most of the smoke had blown south, allowing the morning light to shine through. The wind gusts were so strong it felt like a sandstorm at the beach, causing difficulty standing up straight at times. The swell came up and I could see the inside current ripping south. A few dawn patrollers attempted to paddle out. The wind was substantial enough to create offshore white caps, and caused the lips of the waves to be very crumbly. Once in a while admits the chaotic looking sea, a gem peak or left would appear. It didn’t take long for sand to get into my eyes and all over my camera; I quickly took some shots and returned to shelter.