The first orange glint of dawn reflected off the snow-capped peak of Mount Aire as we crested Parley’s Summit, heading for the Salt Lake City International Airport. The temperature gauge on our VW Tiguan read a crisp 5 degrees under clear skies. But no skiing for me today!
The never-ending snow removal last winter convinced me that it was essential to get out of town a few times to break the throes of shoveling PTSD. While this year, I think I’ve only carved a pathway from the barn to the house twice, it still seemed like a sound idea to head to a warmer climate.
Thanks to a few year-end-expiring United vouchers, we left Park City behind, quickly winging our way to a snowless holiday break. Three hours later, we cruised down the Cabrillo Highway on U.S. 1 as our GPS came alive with dangerous surf alerts blaring. We were transfixed by the waves pummeling the beach as we traveled from Pacifica down to Santa Cruz and on to Big Sur.
Surf’s up!
Last week, California beaches were battered once again with wave after wave of rolling surf, some breaks cresting 30 feet or more. Front-end loaders were stationed at the low-elevation roadways and in towns along the coast. It was both the majesty and omnipotent power of Mother Nature on display as record surf put on a show of power.
A dozen miles north of Half Moon Bay, cars lined the highway. Rugged men carried surfboards under their arms and lesser souls binoculars as they made their way across the grass-covered landscape to Mavericks, one of the most legendary surf breaks on the planet. What they saw would take your breath away.
Further down along Pescadero Beach, we felt at home with Moab-like redrock monuments rising up from the sand in the pounding surf.
There is a special lure from the ocean that draws us in. For some, it’s a big orange sun dropping slowly below the horizon. Others enjoy the feeling of sand oozing between their toes. For me, it’s the endless sound of waves rolling over a break, slowly rushing up into a sandy cove, then swooshing back into the ocean, only to just do it all over again.
The glowing sunset was absorbed by the ceiling of clouds as we whizzed by a rock outcropping north of Santa Cruz. My wife, Carole, and I looked at each other as I put the Toyota into a U-turn, screaming back to take a closer look at what we had just discovered.
Standing on an abandoned rail line looking hundreds of feet below, we saw a placid cove with gentle waves of foam tickling the sand as they came through a small arched opening in the rock. Just a hundred feet away, a giant fin-like rock rose 50 feet out of the water, waves violently smashing its grasso-covered backside with a towering white spray. Another hundred feet away, waves crested a tabletop rock, water cascading off all four sides in an elegant fashion with each subsequent roll of water.
Further down the coast the next morning, hundreds of sea lions were yelping atop the aptly named Sea Lion Rock off Point Lobos, the gateway to the Big Sur coastline. Every turn on the hiking trail led to yet another captivating scene. The sound was omnipresent!
There’s a powerful facet to water. It’s the blood of life, nurturing our bodies and souls. Surfers navigate the precarious waves nimbly, riding a burgeoning swell as it crests over a break line, then deftly ducking under a 25-foot curl and shooting out on the flat water while the waves roll on.
As skiers, we dip our ski tips into two feet of light, fluffy snow, manipulating our edges to make elongated S-turns around white Aspen trees that serve as our markers. Gravity pulls us down the fall line, creating an exhilarating sensation in our bodies as we glide over the frozen water molecules.
So far this year, we haven’t been blessed with the mountain powder version of a 25-foot curl on Mavericks. But coming home to a few early morning runs down Deer Valley’s Bald Mountain last weekend, I was treated to our own alpine version of waves striking the coastline, carving sweeping turns into the ripply corduroy as I watched the sun come up over the Jordanelle.
But instead of the roar of the surf, It was the silence and peace that Mother Nature brings us on a quiet field of snow.