we've all had them. The times when you get in over your head, when Mother Nature, in her nonchalant imperiousness, showed you just how insignificant you are and you thought you might be finished.
My worst beat down was 20 years ago in the summer in San Diego before the Internet and reliable wave forecasting were ubiquitous. We went out in the summer no matter what and it was nearly always 4 feet or smaller. A friend of mine's roomate, fresh into California for grad school wanted to go with us. He was cocky, "I swam on the Indiana State Swim Team so this should be no problem" - I shrugged and handed him a boogie board. We headed out to Black's Beach.
Walked down asphalt road down between the cliffs and when we turn the corner and see the peak, three triple overhead waves roll in. "Holy shit!" I say, but we're a half mile away and the surfers are just little specks. "Doesn't look THAT big" says the Indiana State swim stud. I don't answer and the three of us soldier on, walking down to the peak, then paddling out. After that set, it's flat. This swell is a southwest from some big storm down in New Zealand and for some reason, those storms can throw these giant sets at you but nothing in between. We paddle out into the lineup without even getting our hair wet.
It's so deceptive. After half an hour I get bored and start drifting inside, hoping to catch some scraps. Big mistake. The line looms on the horizon, signaling a Black's canyon set (deepwater canyon focuses groundswells there). The canyon sets are terrifying because you can see them when they're a long way out and you paddle like your life depends on it and most of the time you still don't make it. Being far inside, I didn't have a chance. The second wave in the set breaks my leash and I'm in the impact zone with no board. It's a problem because it's summer and I'm not wearing a wetsuit and I'm not floating in the foam. Usually get one breath in before the next wave rolls me. Luckily there were no two wave holdowns. I worry about drowning and struggle for god knows how long (it seemed like a very long time) before finally getting footing in the sand. Staggering up onto the beach I see Indiana State Swim Team stud lying spread eagled on the sand. The boogie board which used to be attached to his wrist is 50 yards down the beach. He looks up at me and says, "this is a lot harder than it looks." Buddy, you are a genius.
Spend the next 45 minutes watching guys catch 2.5-3xOH lefts. The set is still pumping non-stop when we leave with our tails between our legs.
That beatdown prompted big wave nightmares for years afterwards. Yes, I am a big pussy, never want to go through that again. At least I kept surfing. As for the Indiana State Swim Team Stud - we never made fun of him for his cockiness, yet he never again asked to go with us. Karma baby. Don't ever get cocky about the ocean.
Nice one @Kook-T. Perhaps not surprisingly, my "worst beat down" also took place at Black's in the early 90s. It was winter, and I was a young and naive goofy-footer lured by the promise of some gorgeous flowing Black's lefts like the ones I saw in Surfer Mag. There was a decent swell, and I made the pilgrimage alone from L.A., and arrived in time for what I thought would be a sweet and memorable late afternoon glass-off. It looked nice from the cliff, so I ran down, practically drooling with excitement. I had never been there and had no idea what I was getting myself into. Perhaps due to the same phenomenon that @Kook described, though, I was able to paddle out without a huge amount of effort, and was feeling pretty good about myself - but once I got to the outside, I came face to face with big dark mountainous mile-wide peaks that scared the shit out of me. Whoa... trouble. Unbeknownst to me though, the real problem was that as the late afternoon wore on, me and a half-dozen other surfers were being funneled into a swirling vortex out of which there was basically no exit. Prisoners of the humongous impact zone. Like quicksand. Paddling out of it was basically impossible; it was composed of churning live foam and it repelled any attempt in any direction... none of us could get out of it. Also, it was getting darker and darker, as the beach seemed to be getting farther and farther away. I felt quite alone and small. And one had to keep an eye constantly to the horizon, which would renew the trouble every few minutes with another bunch of heaving walls of whitewater. Expletives a'many from the others in the zone. Eons passed, paddling, paddling, paddling... getting... nowhere? Somehow or another, at some point, I ended up on the beach absolutely drained of all energy, demoralized, in the dark, bummed, cold, schooled... but most of all, grateful to have survived. I haven't been back there since.
about 7 years ago right here at OB, around ######, went to duck dive a wave that had already broken in front of me, not that big even - overheadish but it was snippy that wave, and OB ripped it out of my arms- along with my left shoulder out of the socket. searing pain, open weeping, somehow got myself to the beach and some random guy scooped me up and jetted me out to st. mary's hospital, where they popped it back in. i don't know which incident was more painful. and i lost the wetsuit too as they had to cut it and than wear donated clothes out of the hospital all homeless like. very traumatic day! but it's all water under the bridge now with OB :)
my worst beatdown was two years ago here at ob. i was on a borrowed board and having a decent day. i took off on a head high right, made the bottom turn and looked down the line. the wave was stacking up and i had to make a choice - turn out in front or tuck in and go for it.
i gamely tucked in and shortly received the beating that my own mother never had the heart to give me. the wave sucked me up the face and back over the falls. my first concern was not splitting my face open on my board so i curled up in a ball and put my arms around my head. big mistake. that made me more or less shaped like a basketball and that is just how mama ob treated me. i missed the board going down the first time but she was not done with me yet. she picked me up a second time and bounced me off the bottom. hard. i heard and felt a big snap and i new right away that something bad had happened. two broken ribs.
fortunately i came up on the inside, board still attached, and caught whitewater in to the beach. i was able to get back to the car and even to change clothes and drive home. it was the next day that the pain really set in. it took about six months to recover. brutal. couldn't laugh, cough, crap, or roll over, much less surf.
last sunday i had one of the best sessions of my life right in that same spot. she's a crazy bee-atch but i love her!
Then this one time...uh, this just really made me miss Blacks. It was the best part of grad school.
My worst OB beat-down was caught on camera. It was literally my first time trying out a GoPro camera, and I ended up with a 26 second hold down. When I finally drag myself back to the board at the end of the video, you can see that I say "That was the worst wipeout I've ever had."
I used to live in San Diego and if you surf big Blacks its inevitable that you're going to get held down. Probably nothing like this though.
PS: My worst beat down = 2ft day at Scripps. Slipped off my board and did the splits. Dislocated my hip and tore cartilage that required surgery. Now that's fuckin' hardcore.
Pismo Beach winter 2008 I think, was on a 7'6" hybrid that was just more foam than necessary. I think I can paddle over a set wave (OH+) but it throws earlier than I think it will and I do a complete back flip with the board over the falls and land on the board which feels like hard dry ground for a moment and get compressed such that my both my feet and head are on the board the hard way. The ensuing hold down I barely noticed. Back hurt for months. I still resist ditching boards when it would probably be better to, but go in for much lighter smaller boards that at least will sink.
