Pacifica, where it’s rarely good, but almost always okay. Photo: Ariv Gupta//Unsplash
The perfect surf session used to include yourself and a couple of buddies alone in the water, absolutely scoring one pumping wave after another. And while a large part of surfing is still about that uninhibited connection with nature, the skyrocketing popularity of the sport means that more often than not you’ll be paddling with a number of complete strangers, adding a bit (or a lot) of human interaction to your daily dose of nature.
For the more extroverted types among us, that might be a win as socialization can be an integral part of the surf experience. For others, the people around them in the water are barely a consideration, just another obstacle in between them and that connection with nature.
Introvert or extrovert, like it or not, human interaction is a part of the surf experience that’s here to stay. But just as the waves can change drastically from one break to the next along a coastline, so too can the vibes in the water. And in my experience, the vibes at the worst surf breaks up and down the coast are the best vibes to be found. It’s there that you’ll find the happiest surfers, the least anger, and the most stoke. While some lambast such waves as being shit surf or full of kooks, it’s at places I like to call “low-performance surf breaks” where the soul of surfing, in its purest form, can still be found.
Often grey, small, and crumbly, the stoke is usually high at Pacifica. Photo: Nick Herasimenka//Unsplash.
I’m wrong, you say? There’s nothing soulful or “true to surfing” about a bunch of kooks on foam boards running into each other? Au contraire, mon ami. While the angry local might argue that “kooks are ruining surfing,” and while I might agree with him that Pleasure Point is a lot less fun with hundreds of people lined up from First Peak to 38th just waiting to drop in on you, somehow we’ve got to accept that it’s simply the reality we’re living in. Instead of trying to defend our last little pockets of “localized” surf where a few old white dudes seem to think they deserve more waves than anyone else, maybe it’s time to give in to the flush of kookery and remember why we’re surfing in the first place — for fun. I’d argue that fun is the soul of surfing. For most of us non-professionals, it’s the only reason we’ll ever surf.
And yet, fun is so rarely emphasized at higher performance breaks. Instead, it’s the ego, the feeling of superiority that comes with paddling to the top of the peak and snagging the wave of the day, the glorified (and often incorrect) image of how the day is going to turn out as you pull up to the break and see that the waves are firing.
But it’s so unlikely that the image in one’s head will materialize into reality. Instead, you’ll sit in a sea of other frothing surfers, mouth watering at the waves you see coming down the point. Everyone else in the water becomes the enemy. Greed sets in, and your mind starts working: how you can get a perfect wave to yourself. Maybe you sit outside the lineup, waiting for the set you think no one else can reach, but when it comes suddenly there’s someone behind you, calling you off the wave. You paddle in to catch a smaller (but still decidedly tasty) wave, and there’s a grom pumping down the line and unleashing turns that at the peak of your abilities you could only dream of. And even if you are the guy at the top of the peak who snagged the wave of the day, didn’t get dropped in on, slashed the hell out of it all the way to shore, far from feeling satisfied, you’re going to want another.
Is it still a burn if the guy you’re burning burned someone else to get the wave? Pleasure Point, where the waves are often good, but the vibes rarely are. Photo: Will Sileo
About a month ago, I made the trek down to Pleasure Point for a fun-looking south swell, despite the age-old (and frankly outdated) Santa Cruz motto: “If you don’t live here, don’t surf here.” It was August, and there hadn’t been much surf to go around so I was frothing to get into some better waves. It turned out to be an epic swell, and I found myself paddling between First and Second peak chasing the unicorns that swing wide and deliver some of the longest rides out there. Finally, I scored one, riding all the way down to the 36th Avenue stairs. I got out and walked back up the point, still shaking with adrenaline and grinning like an idiot. But instead of feeling satisfied, I wanted more, so I paddled back out to where I’d caught my wave of the day and sat. Though I did get a few more waves, none were as good as that ride down the point, and I got out of the water feeling vaguely frustrated despite my stellar ride an hour earlier.
More often than making the trek to Santa Cruz, when Ocean Beach is blown out I head to Pacifica. Pacifica, for those who don’t know, is as low-performance as a surf break gets. But that’s the magic of the place. It’s popular for beginners due to its relative protection compared to other Northern California breaks. It’s really just a constant closeout with plenty of “peaks” up and down the beach to drop in, stand up in the whitewash, and ride a Wavestorm to shore.
Don’t tell me that doesn’t look fun…Pacifica on a “good” day. Photo: Will Sileo
Along with all the foam boards, there’s a mix of locals and more serious surfers from around the Bay Area who come for Pacifica’s consistent mediocrity, myself being one of them. And while it just about always closes out, most days it holds long enough to get in a turn or two before clamping shut. When the waves suck everywhere else, Santa Cruz isn’t worth the drive, and I’m just trying to get wet, I go to Pacifica. And while the waves are rarely good, the surf sessions I have there are the most likely to leave me smiling. The vibes in the water have very little to do with ego, everyone’s getting their fill of mediocre waves, and drop-ins elicit a head shake rather than a shouting match. It’s easy for a surf session to exceed your expectations when you weren’t expecting much to begin with.
Without such images of glorious, minute-long rides in my head when I paddle out, squeezing a couple turns in before the wave shuts down is more than enough to satisfy my lust. And with peaks up and down the beach, there’s enough room to catch plenty of two-turn rides, even on a crowded Saturday. The same can’t be said for a good day, even a mediocre day, at Pleasure Point. I think, in our unending search for perfect waves, we have something to learn from low-performance surf breaks — that the vibes in the water can always be better, and that it’s more fun when they are. Chances are you’ll have more fun getting a couple turns in at Pacifica or some other low-performance gem than fighting for the wave of your life at a place like Pleasure Point.
