This past weekend my brother Fred and I took another drive out to Salmon Creek to surf, discussing the shark situation along the way. After all, August through October is the high season for great whites and what we found on the sand before we got in the water was more than a bit unnerving. A decapitated seal carcass was rotting on the beach, not far above the water line where it had washed ashore. It took me a moment to realize the head was gone as I was looking at the body for bite marks.
Also of immediate concern, I had also made a crucial mistake by forgetting to bring a leash for my surfboard. Earlier in the week I had surfed at Seadrift and left the leash on my longer board. Fred suggested we go to the surf shop just down the way in Bodega Bay and purchase one, but I told him I’d be okay. I thought I could handle it. I didn’t want to put off getting into the water, as the wind and tide were likely to come up and deteriorate conditions.
Surfing without a leash is not easy. What happens when you and your board get separated? Sometimes it washes all the way to shore, and if this were to happen I’d be swimming through shark infested waters. When I swim freestyle, I kick loudly with great spastic splashes, which I learned during Shark Week is a perfect way to attract the hungry apex predators. I made a mental note to do the breast or side stroke if I lost my board. One of the issues at Salmon Creek is the strong rip current, which would make it difficult to get back to the shore if I had to swim for it. Fred said he’d keep an eye out for me and make sure I was okay and even offered to trade boards, but I declined.
The waves were 4-6 feet, a size entirely within my comfort zone. However, I’ve always gotten separated from my board when surfing without a leash, even in smaller waves. I’ve also grown accustomed to pushing my board to the side and swimming under (aka bailing on my board) when more powerful waves break in front of me. In this case, I would have no choice but to hold on. Decades ago, at Ocean Beach, I tried to hold onto my board and [i]duck dive beneath a 12 ft wave, only to have my shoulder ripped from the socket. At the time I had a leash, so with considerable pain I was able to lay on my board and let the next wave push me to shore.
Feeling trepidation, I entered the water and started paddling out. There was a short-period Northwest wind swell running at 8 second intervals, which meant the waves were coming in pretty close together. Still the conditions were relatively clean for early August, and the waves didn’t have the punch advertised on Surfline.com where they describe Salmon Creek as, “The most popular surfing spot in the county -- powerful beachbreak resembling San Francisco's Ocean Beach - the tiny enclave of Salmon Creek offers a heavy wave that will kick your ass no matter how many times you've surfed Puerto Escondido.” Furthemore they add, “If you're accustomed to riding big, burly beachbreaks, Salmon Creek is for you.”
I’ve surfed Salmon Creek now about a half dozen times or so, and even when I’ve been out in [ii]8-10 ft conditions it’s never been that heavy. I consider it a softer wave, on par with Bolinas, except it’s always a lot bigger because it’s exposed to swells from all angles. The wave typically backs off a little, so the drop-ins aren’t super steep, and the white water isn’t so violent. Salmon Creek is a wave I surf with a lot of confidence, but I wasn’t taking any chances without a leash. One thing I like to try on every wave is a ‘finishing move’, typically a floater, or off the lip as the ride comes to an end. The issue with finishing moves without a leash is that I often get separated from my board, which is a nice way to say I fall. I ruled out doing any finishing moves that day, even though there were several good opportunities. I just didn’t want to risk losing my board and having to swim for it.
My ability to hold onto my board was tested twice, when two different set waves broke right in front of me. The first one was considerably more powerful than a typical Salmon Creek wave, and one of the bigger ones that day. I turned turtle, which is where you flip upside down and keep the board between you and the surface. I surprised myself by being able to hang on and keep all my limbs intact while being tossed about underwater. The second test happened right next to Fred. We were both paddling for a set wave that broke in front of us. “F@ck,” Fred heard me exclaim before I turned turtle again. This time the wave backed off a little bit and hanging on was easier. If I had a leash I definitely would have let go of my board and swam under those waves.
By the end of the session both Fred and I had caught some fun waves. We didn’t see any sharks. Miraculously, I didn’t need to swim for my board once. There were several dozen other surfers in the water too, spread up and down the beach and there was a lifeguard watching from his vehicle on the beach. The session was relatively uneventful, which is a good thing at Salmon Creek.
[i] A proper duck dive is executed by pushing down on the front of the board and sinking the board nose first into the water and placing your foot on the tail. As the wave hits your back, your body acts as a lever and your pop up on the other side of the wave, just like a duck does when diving.
[ii] Most surfers in California measure waves from the front. In Hawaii they measure them from the rear. If the waves were 8-10 ft the way the Hawaiians measure them, I wouldn’t be in the water at Salmon Creek or most likely anywhere else for that matter.