Mike Lynch breaks out a freshy (that he shaped) before hopping in the water at San Onofre. Photo: The Inertia
I’ve done my time at San Onofre, and I’ve done it proudly. By choice, even. While I’ve lived in Indonesia and Oahu and explored bits of Mexico, the Baja, Australia, and the East Coast of America, I’ve yet to find another place in this world where you can predict what the waves are doing just by observing the people around you.
So, call me lazy, call me a kook, call me a surf bum, or call me intuitive, but I figured out a system to avoid paying for Surfline and score more than not, without ever checking the waves on a cam or in real life in Southern California.
Besides the first, most obvious step (using a log, because then you can surf almost anything) and placing a San Onofre Surf Club sticker on the back window of your truck to claim local status (if you have an out-of-state plate, even better!), you are then free to roll into the dirt parking lot with the best of them. When I say “the best of them,” I’m talking about very specific characters. These characters are also the secret to unlocking the extended forecast: Hawaiian scale or regular.
Much like the iconic Instagram account, Creatures of SanO, which is conducting a San Onofre Social Experiment in the Metaverse as we speak, the people you first see rounding the corner will give you an initial idea of the conditions. The number one positive sign at San Onofre is a crowded first parking lot, and bonus points if you see someone over 50 grilling up lunch next to a van. Extra bonus points if that van is old and/or rusty.
Funny enough, it seems that the younger people end up at Old Man’s, and the older crowd watches The Point. Either way, when you spot the wise elder watchers at The Point, you’re in for a good time. And if anyone has binoculars, jam on the gas and get out there!
The second great sign comes a little farther down in the drive. Towards Four Doors, where people sit in the backs of their trucks or campers watching the hot doggers do their thing, look out for bowl cuts and camcorders. If more than three people are filming, it’s going to be a solid session. If even one of those people filming has a bowl cut, it’s on.
The third and final positive sign – no, undeniable message from the universe itself – comes from one singular vehicle in the San Onofre parking lot. When everything aligns: the wind is quiet or offshore, the tide is low enough for the waves to have shape, and there’s south swell, there’s a little blue classic car parked at the logs by the beach. The car is driven by a phenomenal surfer who paddles out, on his knees of course (he wouldn’t be caught dead prone), and surfs with a distinct Phil-Edwards-like style. If you see this car, roll the windows down, turn up The Blue Stingrays, and start ripping your shirt off, because you’re about to experience “Surfer’s Delight.”
Did I mention he surfs with a captain’s hat on? I’ve never seen it come off… not once. That’s a level of control above leash-less hotdogging.
Now, for the bad signs, and there are plenty. By far the worst sign of all, though, is pulling up to the lot and seeing it empty. And if there’s no line at the gate on a Saturday, pack it up and go home. San Onofre and the word crowded go together like WSL Finals at Lowers. No one wants to admit it, but at this point, they are all but interchangeable.
The second worst sign, and yes, I’ve seen this one, is people fishing from their surfboards. On multiple occasions this fall I’ve paddled out at one break at SanO or another, only to find the people at the top of the lineup are wielding fishing poles. So far, they haven’t scored waves or lunch. But they have entertained the lineup endlessly, so I salute them for their dedication: to keeping surfing fun, and to doing whatever it takes to live on the beach. Who needs a job when there are resources everywhere.
However, beyond my respect for these survivalist surfers, there is a certain, grim truth that if people are out in the water with fishing poles on boards, the waves are probably not firing.
The final sign that it’s not going to be a good session at San Onofre is if you see more than one paddleboarder. It has nothing to do with it being flat: I’m the first to admit that they get the best waves. That’s exactly why it’s time to face the music and enter the squabble a little up the road at Trestles. Anywhere except Lowers, that is.
