Dawn Patrol

Through the eastern window of my bedroom, the orange glow of the rising sun blankets the coastal range. Rummaging for my glasses, I laboriously struggle out of bed and stumble upstairs.

  I’m not a morning person, but the rich coffee aroma and possibility of glassy surf makes me a devout member of dawn patrol. From my third story post, I scope the cove through my binoculars… chest high peelers and only two guys out. I pour my java into my travel mug and grab a pear, pack my wetsuit into my pack and pedal north to the point with my nine-footer tucked under my arm.

  Four of us—all familiar faces—share the early morning surf. Gary, an older local with long gray hair and a bulldog stature, trims the waves from the nose of his log as effortlessly as buttering his breakfast toast. Another local, Stan, sits deep inside the cove and carves long, endless rides. These dawn sessions are the only time I see Bates, the local shaper and shop owner, in the lineup.

  By 10 o’clock the lineup has nearly tripled, which means breakfast time. For the past week, the swells have been consistent, but mid-afternoon winds occasionally turn onshore, adding chop to the surf.

                                     

  Come sundown, there’s been a welcome trend of offshore winds. Paddling out at sunset is enchanting. The sun punches holes in the jade green walls of the Pacific creating a passage into sanctuary. Sitting in the lineup, the spray catches the low angled solar rays, casting a rainbow that trails the barrel.

  Surfing until dark wraps another days worth of tranquility to be continued when dusk becomes dawn tomorrow.