A Puzzle

15^th Street Del Mar California – Calm

The waves break between the train signal just behind the green expanse of Powerhouse Park and the tallest palm 30 feet south. The waves max out at six feet. Never too steep or too mushy, always ride-able. The wind stays below 7 knts. The rip out front of the park pulls you straight to the line-up if you time it right. The wave becomes visible as it passes the quarter mile buoy and, as it gets closer, splits in two, forming both a left and right. The right will close out in 15-20 seconds but the left continues and just when it seems complete, a new section forms. The left keeps going for at least 30 seconds. The water feels cold but in the heart of winter it might drop to 62 degrees.

From the line-up you can watch the sun rise and see it clearly even on somewhat hazy days. The old geezers on their yellowing long boards get out there before me no matter how early I get out of bed. They sit way out and soak up retirement. Groms wearing fluorescent colored suits dominate the inside while their mothers film them from the beach.  They all go in around 9. Then there’s the morning lull. A few people rush out on their lunch break and try to snag a few before type, type, typing away at their desk. Then Middle School PE comes out at 3 and takes over the break for an hour. Another lull. The post work rush happens around six and the line up stays pretty packed until sunset. The sun sets directly over the horizon. Someone always yells, “I saw the green flash.” Who knows if they ever do. The couples on the beach take photos of the sunset like it won’t happen again tomorrow.  The Lifeguards make their closing announcements. Some stragglers stay out squinting in the dark to find their last wave.

The same thing happened yesterday and it will happen again tomorrow.

Ocean Beach California – Chaos.

The wave comes from what seems like every direction. It breaks past the outside then mushes then reforms. The wave breaks three times before it hits the shore or twice or once, it moves with no rhyme or reason. The word interval does not exist in this beach’s vocabulary. Sets in the ocean usually build with the largest wave coming last. Not here. The Ocean Beach wave is steep. A sheer wall of water rushing towards shore. It can get steeper or mush out, closeout or hold up, barrel or crumble.

The inside current either rips to the north or the south. Sometimes it pulls to the north closest to shore then to the south then back again to the north. Sometimes it’s the other way around. There is no pattern. The rip pulls hard and fast sometimes pulling just past the inside and other times to right before the big outside set crashes. The line-up faces west and the sunrises, barely noticeable because the fog bank sits low and heavy. The fog and lack of visibility the only consistent at this beach.

The people are covered in layers, upon layers, of neoprene. Too cold to talk. The line-up non-existent some days depending on weather or work. Other days the line-up is packed with homesick college kids and crusty old men.  The civil air sirens blare without a regular schedule, fire trucks blaze by their alarms firing, a helicopter buzzes overhead and practices rescue swimmer pickups, a submarine emerges like a steel, grey whale fifty feet away.

The tide will shift. Some people will head in saying, “Tide shift. More like Tide shit.” Some people will stay out telling themselves, “Gotta make the hour car ride worth it.” The sun will set in a couple hours and anyone remaining will head in shivering. Hypothermia, always a possibility.  

Yesterday was a different beast and tomorrow will be a whole new puzzle.