By: Tom Bamonte
I was in San Diego recently for a family vacation. The warm, generally sunny weather was a welcome respite from the sleet we left behind in Chicago. When we arrived my son stepped out on the balcony of our hotel, took a deep breath and exclaimed “this climate is perfect for human beings.”
Mission Beach
We stayed in Mission Beach, a dense neighborhood built on a sand bar between the Pacific Ocean and Mission Bay. The ocean and its rhythms permeates the place. The surfing culture is very strong, and you see surfers out in most conditions most of the time. A local said that people define themselves first by their surfing and then by their occupation.
Surfing on misty day
South California offers a mixture of sandy beaches and rocky shores. When we were there the water temperature was about 60 degrees and the air temperature was in the 50s and 60s. This was the depths of their winter and we laughed at the sight of the locals bundled up in down jackets and wearing gloves.
Coast Near San Diego
Solstice Sunset Near Los Angeles
I was able to squeeze in two days of paddling. I rented a boat from Aqua Adventures Kayak Center, a quality outfitter run by Jennifer Kleck, the first female BCU 5 Star from the United States. Aqua Adventures has a good variety of rental kayaks and accessories. I appreciated the fact that they told me that I could save money by buying a three-month membership instead of renting by the day. That kind of vendor honesty was heartening.
I had hoped to use an Explorer, which is my boat at home, but I couldn’t get my long legs to fit in their model. Instead, I paddled a Tempest 170 from Wilderness Systems, which proved to be a nice boat. I had heard complaints about its tendency to weathercock but I never had to use the skeg in two days of paddling. It handled well in the surf and rolled easily: A pleasant surprise of a boat.
Aqua Adventures is located near the channel that connects Mission Bay to the Pacific. This gives you the option of puttering around in the protected bay waters lined with marinas and hotels or venturing out into the Pacific.
The first day I rented a boat conditions were rugged. There was a 20 mph north wind with gusts to 30 mph. The ocean was a covered with whitecaps and the surf was too chaotic for surfing.
Storm On The Way
There was no way I was going on the ocean solo in such conditions, so I spent several hours paddling in the channel. It was a great experience. The channel runs in an east-west direction and the swells were charging in from the northwest. These moving ridges of water would sweep in the entrance, break against the south breakwall and then rumble down the channel, sometimes breaking a second time near the south breakwall.
When I first rounded the corner to the channel I was struck by the sheer size of the waves in the channel and the seeming watery carnage. However, after a few minutes of observation and tentative paddling I began to see the pattern and to identify areas where I could venture without undue risk of getting hit by a breaking wave.
For the rest of the afternoon I ventured up the side of the northern breakwall and then zipped in a diagonal across the channel, avoiding the roughest breaking waves along the south breakwall near the entrance. Occasionally, I reversed the route just to keep it interesting. I also practiced paddling close to the rocks in this very dynamic environment.
I picked landmarks on the breakwalls and each circuit I pushed myself to get a little closer to the channel entrance. Ultimately, I was able to inch up along the north breakwall to a spot just inside the entrance, where the water washing over the north breakwall on my right and the breaking waves near the south breakwall on my left prevented me from going further.
My favorite stretch was in the middle of the channel--there was no motorboat traffic that day due to the conditions--where the waves were high but not breaking. I was great fun going up the ridges of water, getting a nice view and then heading down into the valley. These waves were so big that I was getting in two and sometime three paddle strokes between trough and crest.
Two guys in outriggers joined me in the channel and they concentrated on surfing down the face of the waves. It was impossible to talk to them given the noise from the wind and crashing waves, but it was comforting to share these conditions with others.
When sundown was about an hour away a marine police vessel emerged. This was the first motorized vessel I had seen for several hours. The police visited each of us, warned us that conditions were hazardous in the channel and strongly suggested that we call it a day. Conditions actually seemed a bit better at this point so I spent another half hour playing around before paddling back to Aqua Adventures.
The next day the wind had died down but the surf was in the 6-9 foot range according to Wavewatch, the surf forecaster. I paddled out of the channel into the open Pacific without incident and headed north to La Jolla. It was a great open water paddle about a half mile from the beach. I felt well prepared for such paddling from my Great Lakes paddling experience. Indeed, open water paddling in the ocean seemed a bit easier than in the Great Lakes because the longer period between waves gives you more time to relax and enjoy the view.
Ocean surf is another matter. In past posts (e.g., here) I have blathered on about how much fun it is to thread your way through a surf zone. But that was in a surf zone at Montrose Beach in Chicago with spilling surf and a very short period between waves. In this stretch of ocean, the waves had coalesced into large swells that dumped suddenly and dramatically and then churned through a few cycles before reaching shore.
Not The Big Surf, Just A Big "T"
From the water I watched with trepidation as these swell reared up to a crest, seemed to accelerate and cover lots of ground, and then crashed, sending up geysers of spray. I realized that spending as little time as possible in the surf zone is what is necessary in this kind of environment. So much for rhapsodizing about the quiet at the heart of the surf zone. There was only disquiet in this surf zone.
I tried to figure out the wave sets in order to time my approach for when the waves would be at their smallest. Given the length of the surf zone, however, it seemed impossible to avoid encountering some big waves.
Finally, I took a deep breath and accelerated into the surf zone. I had tunnel vision and my strategy was
to get to the beach as fast as I could. I made it past the first line of breaking waves without getting dumped on when a wave caught me and I accelerated into the longest surf ride I have ever had. The Tempest 170 tracked well. A wave then hit from the side and pushed me parallel to the main breaking stuff. I failed to brace sufficiently--the Tempest requires more force than the Explorer in this department--and I was knocked over. I rolled up and got wiped out and rolled up again and got knocked over again and, sad to say, I bailed just a few yards short of shore. Sputtering, angry at my lack of patience--I had plenty of air left--and streaming saltwater out of my nose, I collected my boat and plodded up on shore. There was no welcoming committee, as the locals are inured to sodden folks in wetsuits crawling up the beach.
Tangled Up On Mission Beach
I ate lunch and then practiced awhile in the middle of the surf zone, getting more comfortable with bracing using the edge on the Tempest, practicing rolls and getting accustomed to being slammed face on by waves. My confidence began to eclipse the ignominy of my wet exit.
After emptying my boat again I sat in it at the edge of the water and tried to figure out a strategy for getting out to open water. The line of dumpers was truly scary. From this beach vantage point the waves reared up suddenly and then crashed down hard. The higher crests would throw off a crown of spray, a flick of arrogance that made them even scarier.
There was a lifeguard station nearby and plenty of people on the beach so I figured that help was nearby if something went wrong. I pushed off. The near shore stuff was like the near shore stuff at Montrose Beach, only stronger and with a longer interval between waves. I passed through this area easily. The middle of the surf zone was like the bigger breaking waves at Montrose, but stronger and more concentrated. I got whacked square a few times but kept my boat pointed out to sea and moving forward.
By now I was in the part of the surf zone where the big dumpers roamed. One reared up and dumped just in front of me. I was engulfed in a boiling maelstrom that covered me and my kayak and pushed me back a bit. I started paddling as soon as I could and another wave reared up. This time it broke just as I was half way up the wave face. I feared that I was going to be pitched backward but leaned forward and punched through the crest, my boat smacking down on the back of the wave. This was a very close call.
Another big wave was on its way and I frantically paddled forward. I caught this one just as it crested and my boat was launched higher in the air than a boat of mine has ever been before. Probably a bit of my boat near the stern stayed in the water, but it sure felt like I was flying. As soon as I hit water with a bone jarring whump I kept paddling hard for another 50 yards to get fully out of the surf zone.
My shoulders ached, I had jammed a finger, likely when a wave mashed it into my deck, and my heart was pumping hard, but I was in one piece, in my boat and quite elated at having made it out of the surf zone.
I realized that Great Lake paddling had prepared me pretty well for ocean paddling. I felt very comfortable in the unpredictable waves sloshing around the Mission Bay channel and on the open Pacific. Nothing in my experience on the Great Lakes, however, fully prepared me for the raw power of the dumping surf in the ocean. The surfing, bracing and rolling practice in the surf at Montrose and elsewhere certainly provided a necessary foundation of skills, but the ocean surf that day required a level of resolve and risk tolerance greater than the spilling surf of Montrose demands.
I didn’t want to tempt fate by landing and launching again, but resolved to get some more ocean surf experience whenever I can in the future. I was heartened to learn that the surf that day was significantly higher than the norm for that area, which suggests that paddling in the surf zone need not always feel like a daredevil experience. Indeed, the following day the surf was down to the 2’ to 4’ range and looked very doable without much drama.
With the surf landing behind me, the paddle back from the beach to Aqua Adventures was very pleasant. I stopped near the buoy at the entrance of the channel to make the acquaintance of a couple of seals who were sunbathing on the buoy. I enjoyed the panoramic view of San Diego and the mountains behind in the rich, late afternoon sun. With a sound between a hiss and a whoosh two dolphins announced themselves as they passed within 15 feet of my kayak.
View Of Pacific Ocean From La Jolla
I then tailed a sailboat back through the channel and into the marina where Aqua Adventures is located. While peeling off my wetsuit and drytop at the dock as the sun was setting it struck me that it will be months before I will be able to do the same in Chicago without being immediately chilled to the bone. Not a happy thought.
In closing, while I went out to San Diego nursing an inferiority complex about Great Lakes kayaking, I think with the help of the many great mentors we have in the Chicago paddling community one can make the jump to open ocean paddling without too much trouble. The ocean surf zone, however, is a place onto itself. I have a renewed appreciation for the importance of spending as little time as possible in the surf zone when the waves are frisky.
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See Keith Wilke's recent account of San Diego surf kayaking here.