Swell of the Decade, so they’ve been saying. Is that true? What was the last swell that was this hyped, and then actually lived up to that? Hurricane Marie? I can not believe it’s been 12 years since then.
I’ve been surfing for almost 20 years and boogie boarding as a grom before that, my entire life living here in Orange County. All of that time spent at the beach, yet I had never before been down even for a visit to the famous Wedge of Newport Beach. I’d always figured I would not surf that wave. I’ve actually said multiple times that I would never surf that wave. Far too dangerous. Way above my send level.
On Tuesday, as I’m pulling my grom in a wagon down Oceanfront (the street parallel and closest to the Wedge), hearing the thunderous roar of 5 feet at 17 second South Swell, I began to question my own words. I hadn’t even stepped on the sand yet and I was getting butterflies. I had no surf gear with me, I wasn’t even wearing trunks. I had no plans to touch the water. But the energy in the air was palpable. Bumper to bumper parking. E-bikes, skateboards, walkers, runners, neighbors out in their front yards, it felt like something I’d never experienced before. The closest I could get in comparison is a live playoff sporting event, without all the intoxication. A much cleaner energy.
I found an incredible little nook amongst the crowd that really enhanced my time down there. I was right in at the top of the sand berm, just on the inside of the jetty, standing on the rocks. I wasn’t threatened with being washed away, and I was about as close as I could get to the action. Little did I know, I planted myself right around half of the local Wedge Crew of body surfers and spongers, absolute core chargers, where I got to listen in on their Session Stories. Really awesome experience.
Within the first 5 minutes of getting there though, I did witness a rescue. A scary situation that could have ended up really bad. A wash through set came through, turning the lineup into a complete yard sale. Plenty of boogs washing up, at least two broken surfboards. I thought it looked like the Lifeguard boat almost got rolled on one wave. Battered soldiers marching up the sand breathing deep. It was an ominous scene.
As the 5th or 6th wave is rolling through, bodies are starting to get washed in closer to the shore. Lifeguards heavily scan the water. Voices start to rumble around me and the crowd noise increases as we all catch on to what’s happening; a man nearing the rocks and running out of energy, quickly. He is getting dragged and beaten by the set, and he is so out of gas that he is now looking for a rock to grab onto to get some rest. Bad call. On the outside, waves are 5 foot and slabbing onto the jetty. Not breaking in front of the jetty – literally onto the rocks. He is maybe 25 feet inside of that zone, and not even 10 feet off the rocks, where the crashing wave is sweeping off of and through the rocks, then starting to form that inside side wedge wave. A horrible position to be in. The guards are whistling and yelling and pointing at him to get away from the jetty; swim away. There is no chance he can hear anything. The man is bobbing up and down, not getting very high on the way up, and goes under another wash through wave, maybe 5 feet away from the rocks. I don’t know how there was no contact with the jetty. He comes up right next to a rock. If he was going to grab on, this was the chance, but the next wave was already washing its way in.
I couldn’t make out if it was an unsuccessful attempt at holding on to a rock, or if he realized that was a serious mistake, but he kicks off and away from the jetty at the very last second, just in time to duck under the oncoming beast of whitewater rolling through. This time he gets washed into and over that small outcropping of rocks, and again, I do not understand how there was no contact (maybe there was?). Lifeguards are jumping in the water at this point, and the man pops up with his back turned to the beach, looking out to sea, but closer to shore. He’s maybe only 50 feet off the beach, but he’s still battling. When the tide rushes back out he gets pulled a bit with it. It looks like he is trying to stay afloat on his back while also pushing in and trying to move away from the jetty. The guards got to him really quickly, got him under the arms and dragged him out. The man was able to get his footing after being pulled up the beach about 10 feet, but he was exhausted. Completely spent.
I have to give a massive shoutout to all Lifeguards, and specifically those guys and gals that work The Wedge. That has to be one of the heaviest places in California to work, I would assume? From what I witnessed first hand, to the videos I’ve seen on social media from this swell, those Guards are real life heroes. I think watching that go down, seeing those guys risk their own lives to save that man’s (I think that was a relatively calm rescue for them), that might have been the second time where I found myself filled with another unfamiliar energy on that day. Inspired, motivated, influenced, I can’t quite find the word for it, because I don’t think I want to be doing that. That’s fucking scary. But I felt a draw to this energy. A quiet pull at my gut that I can’t explain.
Once the set finally finishes, there is a mess to be cleaned up. The Man is still standing near the top of the berm, hands on his knees catching his breath. I spotted 3 boogies near where the man was, floating in around the rocks, along with the top half of a tiger sprayed Gun. The lineup is completely spread out, most body surfers and spongers closer to the inside than the out, and some are making their way out of the water. Some, also, are about to make their way into that treacherous lineup.
One bodysurfer and one boog make their way around the berm and start a hop jog down towards the water to hoots, whistles and hollers. The Spicolli looking body surfer throws a fist in the air mid stride, turning over to the crowd on the jetty, “LETS FUCKING GO!!!”
“FUCK YEAH!!!”
“Im gonna get a sick one!!!”
I couldn’t do anything but laugh. How insane. I just watched a guy get everything he had pummeled out of him, have an insanely close call with the rocks, have to get rescued by the LifeGuards in front of at least 300 people, and these dudes are frothing to paddle out in this shit? I could have charged up your Tesla with the amount of juice that fired me up with. I’ll say it again, not that it made me want to surf that wave at all, but it made me want to get myself to that point of confidence and comfort and psychosis when the waves get serious. I want to be psyching to paddle out and wrangle a monster. I want to harness that energy and ride the fuck out of it. Raw, natural, real World Energy.
It’s free. I mean, it’s free to try at least. It could come with a cost, you know like embarrassment. An ego check. A humbling. There are, of course, serious consequences on the line when surfing in these conditions, and specifically at The Wedge, which is why I keep reiterating that I do not want to do that. That’s why I have not tried to this point. But, the energy of that place, man. I’m telling you. I’ve got to get back and feel it again soon. And standing there taking in this whole experience, it made me have a little bit of FOMO, I must admit. Why aren’t I charging some bombs? Why are these guys not scared shitless, standing on the sand with slip ons, dickies, and a camera?
I now understand why this place has a dedicated crew that lives for that wave. From my small little newfound perspective, I can also, figuratively, understand why guys would dedicate part of, if not their entire life to a wave like Pipeline or G-Land and such. That Magic Buzz I felt that day has set me on a different way. I don’t know which way exactly that is, but I know I am definitely hitting the gas.
Big Ups to every Lifeguard out there. Also to that Wedge crew and anyone who’s been out there charging the last few days.
See you on the road.
Cheers,
hwilsin
Drew Stanfield