|
When we arrived at the cliff I had
my first sense of skepticism. Sure, it was an amazing site. Every
surfer dreams of finding empty perfection. But no way was I going
to paddle from the north. Lack of rappelling gear and loose boulders
eliminated a commando approach from above, so we headed south. It
was too late to have second thoughts, but I began to wonder what
lay on the back of the point as we were unable to see it from above.
It was sunny and calm as the fog lifted earlier above the Monterey
Bay. It was now a race to beat the inevitable onshore winds.
We hurried to unload our gear. Lance,
Kyle, Hunter (Kyles’ Labrador),Ben (my housemate), and myself
scrambled down the beach and began making our way back north. We
hiked at a slow, steady pace over the varied terrain below the imposing
cliffs, which were engaged in a constant losing battle with the
sea. After an hour or so we ran out of dry ground and suited up.
We stashed our stuff on the last flat section of fallen cliff, which
met an outcropping of hard coal-colored stone worn smooth by the
sea.
We climbed over the slick rock and
gingerly headed down to a small beach hidden from our view above.
No sooner had we begun making our way down than Hunter charged downward,
leaping to the sand with his hackles raised. We had stumbled across
a maternity ward for harbor seals and their pups. Absolute chaos
broke loose as these panicked pinipeds bolted for the water. Hunter
was blocking the slower pups from reaching the water, barking, as
their mothers swam out and looked in at us with those woeful black
eyes. We had violated this sanctuary and the dog was menacing these
helpless, terrified creatures. When we finally made it down to the
beach and pulled Hunter back we were flying with adrenaline. We
leashed the dog to a rock spire. But it was still a ways to get
out to the break.
Now we could see the waves up close.
Large, deep water rolled up silently in the calm air at long intervals
and broke churning kelp inside the cove. The low morning light was
caught in the cresting lips of the waves, as they were kissed by
the slight off-shore breeze. We still needed to get to the other
side of the reef. Filled with nerves and anticipation we waded through
a surreal maze of channels curving around dark monolithic rocks
carved by the ages. Seal pups darted past us as they sought to rejoin
their mothers without leaving the safe confines of the rookery.
One swam between my legs, as I nosed through the shadowy boulders
and tidal pools. But most unsettling was the glare of a hundred
or so marine mothers staring in from offshore as we tried to reach
deep water and paddle to the channel. By the time we made it to
the line-up we were all wide-eyed and breathless. We had not stopped
since the word go and now here we were. The wave was jacking up
hard on the outside, throwing out almost as far forward as high,
but reeled into the sand on the inside forming a cleaner, hollow
section that spiraled for a hundred yards or more. Lance was the
first out and caught the first wave. We traded waves gradually adjusting
to the shifts of the set waves and taking off further outside. It
was bigger than it looked from above, so I played it cautious. Being
surrounded by dozens of pissed-off seals was unsettling. After an
hour or so, I decided to head in. I really felt like I did not belong
there. So I went in to eat and check on Hunter.
|
