I’ve been surfing lately. It’s the season around here, as the weather systems start dropping down out of Canadian cold and blow across the still warm lake. A good friend of mine and award winning film maker, Ryan Bigelow, put together a quick video of his session this morning along with some shots of a session from a few days ago. My son is featured which is very nice for me. I made it in just after they left this morning.
Click either image to go to the video.
Wednesday afternoon my son and I decided to take a drive south of town with our surf gear. The wind had been building from a steady 20 knots to 30 knots during the day. It was coming out of the northeast with gusts to 40. The surf spots near our house were insane washing machines of huge peaks crashing into each other sending waves in all directions. We had to hustle as it was almost 3 PM and the sun was to be below the horizon before 4:30.
We crossed the high bridge over the Milwaukee harbor in my old ‘89 Ford pick-up and could feel the gusts shaking us. The air was getting cold with temps dropping into the low 30’s. Clouds covered the sky. Spray flew high over the sea walls.
The spot we were headed to is about 30 minutes south of our house in a small city with a tiny harbor that only recreational power boaters use. To the east and south of the harbor entrance is a wide expanse of wild beach and woods stretching down to a large power plant way to the south. Sand fills in from around the point just to the north and creates a gentle under water slope up to the beach where waves arc in and peel forever.
We pulled up to the small trail that leads down a steep bluff to the woods and eventually to the beach and parked the truck up against the curb. We took turns changing from our street clothes into heavy winter wet suits. My son changed first and headed down the trail as I changed. Grabbing my board out of the back of the truck I was hit with a gust that sent me towards the edge of the bluff that the trail cuts down. I squatted down and went over the edge, down the trail barely able to keep my board from smashing into the trees lining the trail. Once I was below the lip I was in the lee of the wind and was able to navigate past the crumbling concrete and re-bar, broken glass and tree roots to the trail at the bottom.
A small storage area for the power boats is fenced off just to the north of the trail. The boats are covered in plastic tarps that were flapping with an insane thunderous cackle as gusts of wind tried to tear them off. Tall reeds over seven feet swayed and beat against each other in the wind. Every once in a while you could feel the low shudder of the ground as waves drummed on the channel sea wall.
I found my son sheltering against one of the large, steel barges grounded on either side of the makeshift channel into the small harbor. He looked at me like I was nuts to even think of paddling out into this maelstrom. Maybe I was, but what I saw were clean waist high waves peeling off down into the bay, spray flying off the peaks and night gathering.
The best place to catch these waves was up close to the outer wall or grounded barge, right where the big waves from deep water pitch up over the lake side sand bar just outside the channel. Part of the wave slams against the wall shuddering the ground beneath on impact but part of the wave rolls over the deeper channel water rounding off a little allowing a surfer a chance to paddle into the wave just as it is about to peak up again over the sand bar on the inside of the channel. Then you can drop down into the wave, gaining speed to trim to the wave. Then you trim your rail into it angling across the water rushing up the face to create thrust against your fin gaining even more speed. You paddle out into an angry set of waves past rusting hulks, spray every where, wind screeching and the next thing you know you are skimming lightly across the face of a gorgeous, arcing wave, gracefully dipping and turning in the most beautiful dance with water and gravity.
My son took a few then headed back through the woods and up to the truck as I went for a couple more. A good friend joined me but that’s a stretch of the the word “join” as we each were in our own world of wind and spray and coming darkness. There was no way to shout so you could be heard.
After several more long rides with hard, long walks against the wind back up the beach to the channel I decided to find my way through the woods back to the trail and up the bluff. As I approached the top of the bluff, up the muddy trail with my toes barely holding me from sliding back I had to time my approach between wind gusts as I did not want to be blown over backwards just as I emerged over the top. It was like waiting for the set waves to die down enough to paddle out into the line up. I was able to make it with out damaging my board.
The next day, Thursday, Thanksgiving day, was sunny and cold. The wind had backed some to the northwest and had died down considerably. There were a few hours between baking a pumpkin pie and starting the candied yams for our Thanksgiving Day feast that allowed me to grab my wet, wet suit and board and check a spot just north of town.
What a difference the sun makes. Even though the air is colder a sunny day is so promising compared to the foreboding dark of late fall afternoons. Cheer was to be had, glory at the beautiful lake sending in huge waves breaking with frosty white peaks sending spray in gorgeous veils curving back from swelling lines. Time to forget about the cold, the damp wet suit the long paddle out, the very cold water. Time to rise up with the waves, riding high and paddling hard. Down into the trough, off across the face. These guys were holding their size way in. Shouts and cheers could be heard as friends witnessed glorious rides of friends.
This was an altogether different surf spot, altogether different day but the waves were from the same deep weather system. Today you had to paddle straight out, long and hard. You had to time your paddle so you were heading out between the big sets and you had to watch your drift from currents and wind, know where you were and where you were headed. But that was all fine as the sky was clear the sun was bright and friends were around.
An hour of glorious waves and it was time to head back to the kitchen and finish up making a huge dinner. Family, good food, good wine and a warm home were just enough to draw me away.
This is a picture taken by I don’t know who but I will give credit when I can. It was taken in Lake Superior a few years ago.
If you’re a surfer you dream of waves. I dream of big, fast glass peeling lines and peaks.
The night before the wind built out of the northwest. A school near my house recorded gusts to 50 mph. The lake was building a swell that would wrap back towards the western shore. I checked the beaches close by around 10 AM as I drove down to the yard I have Orca stored in to tighten her tarp lines. Clean peelers were starting to show.
All day at work I kept checking a web cam that shows the beach I saw the peelers rolling in. I was threading the needle between allowing enough time for the swell to build (and to get some work done) and having enough light left to be able to surf. Finally I closed up shop and headed down to the lake for an on site surf check.
The first beach I checked had stomach to chest high rights racing in before closing out. Steep and fast, but it looked like the lake was so low that the wave was closing out in very shallow water. On up to the next beach north. From the parking lot at the south end of that beach I could see waves breaking out over a rock reef about 400 yards off shore. I met up with a fellow surfer, Peter, who really didn’t know the local spots that well and didn’t get why I was so excited. I raced home to get my gear, it was getting late with just about an hour and half of light left and told him I’d meet him in the parking lot or he could go check out the break just south, maybe with his short board he’d prefer the fast, steep zippers down there. I wanted to make the paddle out and slide down some of those big ones.
I live pretty close to the beach so it wasn’t long before I was back in the lot and Peter was dejected. He said there hadn’t been anything breaking out there since I’d left. Cool, go ahead and surf the other break, I’m sure it will be good, but I’m paddling out there. OK, he’d meet me out side.
It is a long paddle out there, but with the waves refracting along the shore from the swell far outside the water was glassy with very little swell for most of the paddle out. My heart started to beat a little faster as I started feeling the thunder from the breaking waves the closer I got. I’m a strong paddler for a man my age so I don’t mind mentioning that I measure my paddles by how many times I take a break to let the blood come back into my arms. This paddle out was about 4 breaks, maybe 5. These are good chances to assess the situation and alter my course. I chose to paddle north east around behind the reef and the area the waves were breaking. Peter, still thinking the waves were not that big paddled straight out into the dead center of where the biggest waves were breaking.
When you get out to where waves from deep water meet shallow water you can sit on your surf board and ride the swell up and down something like a roller coaster. As the wave lifts you up the air it’s pushing brushes back sending light spray into your face. You get a really good view from the wave peak of where you are, where you want to be and who else might be around. Peter was working hard to paddle through the whitewash of wave after wave, but he made it.
The setting out there is almost surreal. Waves come in groups called sets and last evening the sets were about 5 to 6 waves each. The sky was dark and overcast, not menacing any storms, but low and moody. The horizon picks up a little more light from below the cloud line and appears lighter than the dark water and gray sky. The sun was below the bluff to the west and setting fast. The wave sets first appear as slight, undulating lumps on the far horizon. You know the direction the waves are coming in, you can see towards shore the line the wave peaks break on and by projecting that line back out into the lake you can see where you have to watch. The lump appears, very dark but only briefly and you know this is going to be good. Then nothing, quiet, smooth water with a little swell and you wait. The first waves approaching in the train before the set are tempting to try for, but you take the risk that that lump you saw is till out there, still coming. You’re riding up and down as the waves get bigger in the train and you start getting a sense of where the real set is. It hides from you behind the early waves but every once in awhile you see the tops of the waves out there.
This is when you have to start watching the wave troughs. You want a really clean, deep, wide trough to start sucking up the face of the wave behind it. The water is slate blue, the sky is dark gray, the waves you’ve let go have broken and are thundering down the line with neon white foam flashing and this trough comes at you. You turn and paddle. A look to the side shows the wall behind you getting steep, steeper, almost vertical and you can feel your board starting to slide and you have to decide, no, you have to feel when to stop paddling and when to get up on your board. Your feet swing under you, you grab a rail and turn hard to angle your descent down the face and you stand. Half the board is clear of the water and in the air, you are standing on the rear half as it pounds down the face, you look for the breaking section, turn a little left, step back on the tail to stall a little then lean hard right and shoot across the face for an eternity.
You start to shout, to whoop, to holler. Life is so good. The city, way, way in shore dressed in lights, glistening in the shrouding dark is like a magic fairyland as you sail across the water, legs pumping to absorb the shocks of the bouncing board you’re riding into the dark. You turn hard, pull out the back of the wave and eventually, after maybe one too many waves start your long paddle back to shore keeping an eye on the fellow surfers that have joined you and Peter to get a glimpse of another’s ride, but it is dark and the others are somewhere out in the big swells.
The dark, glassy, swelling inside rolls you on to shore.
