A Few Secret Straits Spots Revealed- Sorry If You Missed It

Posted on May 9, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under northwest surfing, real surfers, secret surf spots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, surf photos, surf sessions, surfing

THESE are a few photos taken on the Straits of Juan de Fuca by Jeffrey Vaughan; and, actually, I have more. The problem is, it’s not cool to publish photos where the location is obvious, even if the spot is nowhere near secret (oh, it might be somewhere near a secret spot). So, I surf these spots, too; and don’t really need anyone suddenly thinking this might be a destination other than, say, Westport. NOOOOOO! Even rideable waves are soooooo rare.

Besides, it’s not like thousands of wave-starved surf enthusiasts are going to catch a ferry and head many miles west northwest just because they saw something on my site.

SOOOOOOO, I’m going to do a flash posting, Saturday, 9pm Pacific Daylight Savings Time, featuring some very pretty photos at a spot easily recognizable to those who have been skunked at the very beach. I’ll delete the photos around 11:35, since anyone up will probably be seeing if Saturday Night Live is new, a rerun, or any way funny.

ORRRR, maybe a few city crews, spurred on by the images and hoping the forecasts and the buoy readings are wrong, might just be loading up for that first ferry.

UPDATE: I did post the other photos. They were great. And, like the fickle waves we seek, they’re gone.

It’s Like Mr. Peanut Without the Hat

Posted on May 7, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under northwest surfing, real surfers, secret surf spots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, surf photos, surf sessions, surf stories, surfing, surfing in Washington State

Jeff Vaughn, who ripped up a large number of lefts while I was searching for a right that would clear the reef, casually doing the classic South Bay longboard drop-stand-and-turn, noseride, kickout or island pullout or flip backwards in a closeout, sent me a few shots from an uncrowded session at a sort-of-secret spot (as in, everyone knows about it, but no one is supposed to give the name out to any kooks who evidently don’t own a computer or know anyone who does, and who might show up on one of those rare, rare, extremely rare days when there are actually waves) somewhere on the Straits of Juan de Fuca.

I showed my wife, Trish, the ones of me, obviously trimming, quite casually, and in the right spot on the wave. The images were quite small and her comments included: “You weren’t wearing a hood (the other surfer out, a PA local and member of the Surfrider Foundation, whose name I should know, but don’t, was);” and, “At least you’re standing up;” and, “That stick (‘you mean paddle?’), it looks like, maybe, you use it to help you stand up;” and, in response to a question from me, “No, you don’t look that fat.” More like “THAT fat.”

I wrote back to Jeff, thanked him, sent the photos on to a few of my surfing friends. Well, pretty much all of them I have email addresses for, mostly so I didn’t have to describe the waves as “knee to waist high with the occasional head high sets, and the indicators, at the lefts and the rights, going off pretty regularly.”

Wow, the last paragraph pretty much messed up the timing for this: Jeff sent more photos, bigger, zoomed-in. In these photos, I do look THAT fat. No, you won’t be seeing them, but, when I showed Trish, complained about how I look less like the surfing super hero I know she thinks of me as, than an old fat guy in an embarrassingly stretched-to-the-limit wetsuit (but still in perfect trim), she merely nodded. Politely. “And yet,” when I tried to show her the same photo again, just to show the wave positioning, she said, “and yet you can’t stop looking at it.”

No. In fact, maybe I’ll print it up, stick that on the refrigerator.

High-Lining Again

Posted on April 26, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under getting barrelled, northwest surfing, real surfers, secret surf spots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, surf sessions, surf stories, surfing in Washington State, surfing Southern California in the 60s, surfing tales, surfing Trestles in the 70s

I just kind of stared at the title for a bit too long. It could say more, or, maybe it says enough.

You have to love the waves you don’t think you’ll make, ones on which you’d like just a little more speed out of your board. You’re trimming high on the wall, focused only on the wave ahead and below you, and it’s only getting hollower; and you know that section ahead, that last pitch before you can glide; it breaks, explodes, really, on river rocks, round, smooth; no oversized chunkers; cobblestones; and you’ve already been caught in that shallow trap, board dropping out and down as the lip hit you; you’ve already pirouetted and half-twisted and leaped toward the open ocean, and been thrashed, bounced off that reef, your board going over you in inches of water.

And you made some. Easy. Too easy; you must have been too far out in front.

Blacks photo by Matt Aden

“Again” is really all you’re thinking; “This time…” Maybe you’ll crouch, hand in the wave face, tight, ready.

This time you might make be in that perfect spot. More speed. You take off at an angle, too far over, probably, project out of a down the line bottom turn, and find that high line again. Speed; you need more. You see the ribs of the wave ahead, the already-pitching lip. More speed. You don’t tuck in; but you move your weight forward, subtly pumping, just tweaking the angle. If you weren’t holding your breath, you are now. No, you’re ready to scream, success or failure; this is where you always wanted to be; that high line between… between frightening and thrilling.

The board skitters, no way it would hold in the thin lip; it side slips down the curve, you in the curtain, trying to stay on, your back hand pushed farther behind you, focus still on the deep water ahead, and…

…and now you’re laughing, and not thinking of anything else but… “Again!”

This piece was inspired by my last session, able, by luck and tide, to find and surf some rights, rare in the Straits of Juan de Fuca; no, not the pitching sand-spitters featured a few posts down, but something in preparation, maybe, for those. I’m dying to surf those, maybe not quite ready. I’m more ready now. I was fortunate enough to work up the hill from Trestles for ten months in 1975, and, remember well telling my friend Phillip Harper, on the phone (he was in medical school at the time) that I would get going so fast down the line that I’d pull up to the top of the wave and my board (and I) would freefall, catch, and the process would be repeated. However, forty years later, I should admit that I pulled a few tight waves standing, but, probably the ride I’ll remember longest, the ride the longest and the tightest, I was on my kneeboarding it after a very steep takeoff, and, eyes wide open, I was totally covered in that moment of weightlessness.

Okay, now I’m sort of staring into some file in my memory bank, hitting the ‘save’ button, and hoping you know exactly what I’m talking about. “Next time…”

Adam Wipeout’s realsurfers’ Guide to Being Real, Number 3

Posted on April 25, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under adam wipeout, Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing, real surfers, surf adventures, surf illustrations, surfing art, surfing guide

This is the drawing for the post two down from here; but, rather than transfer the copy from there (mostly because I couldn’t seem to get it done), I should probably just update. I did hit the hot waves on the cold Straits last Thursday. The session that started out… wait, I already wrote about that. I could mention the “Locals Only” session in Port Townsend earlier this week; two hours of rare wraparound waves with heavy nearly-offshore winds and a horizontal downpour . I was actually working nearby, headed over, watched the two hour session happen from the comfort of my work rig.

I probably should come up with the top ten excuses for not going out when there are actually waves. My ear was plugged up from the previous session, not thinking I needed earplugs because it was small (initially), and suffice it to say, I do feel the guilt. Maybe my best excuse is that I’m not a local, and didn’t want to impose.

No, that won’t be on my list; I’ve only done it once. merely crowded is not the same thing. Oh, and, for the sin of ever mentioning there are ever, EVER any waves in Port Townsend; no one could really predict or forecast the event, or take the chance to drive any distance on the chance it might happen.

As for today’s surf… owwwwww!

Coming up soon: “Are all surfers SOCIOPATHS; or is it just me?”

Swell- Size, Angle, Period + Weather- Wind, Tide, Clouds + Crowd- Forecast, Expectations, Ability Level = Skunk or Score

Posted on April 19, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under northwest surfing, real surfers, secret surf spots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, surf adventures, surf photos, surf sessions

THE surf forecast for last week on the Straits of Juan de Fuca looked as good as it has in a while. Still, all the elements that go from a breeze miles away to rollicking rollers doesn’t always come together. Maybe, especially, around here. Waves are fickle, perfect-seeming buoy readings can produce… nothing, almost nothing, or, most frustrating, waves tantalizingly close to rideable.

AND then there’s the other crucial element, LIFE; which, for most of us, means WORK takes precedence over something as self-centered as SURFING, the riding and/or attempting to ride a few waves. And then there’s the difference between what we hope for, wave-wise, session-wise, performance-wise; always seeking great rides on great waves, and what we get. Often, most often, less; or nothing. SKUNKED. Still, last week there were some waves for the persistent, the lucky, and, and, yeah, some of the better-known spots got crowded; not Trestles or Rincon or Swamis crowded; but weekday-northwest crowded.

STILL, and again, and always, if I’m praying for surf; and I’ve been known to, I first want waves, then good waves, then great waves. I’m tempted to say dealing with the fear of, or, really, the fear of the potential for the crowd factor comes in later in the SCHEMING/PREPARING/HEADING OUT process, but, not really knowing whether forecasts and (even) buoy reports will translate into pumping surf, but high on anticipation, getting into an unwanted caravan with two other vehicles with boards on them on the dry side of Port Angeles tends to make me feel the jockeying for position has already started. And it’s not even the weekend! And I worked my ass off to get a day off! And, who the hell are these other surfers, anyway?

BUT, I did get lucky. However, I surfed waves that started out barely rideable, most of the crowd watching the one guy in the water. Surfers chatted on the beach, took naps, left to check other spots. Some went home. Four hours later, many more surfers in the water and the waves better. I was surfed out. Sated, satisfied, even glowing from more than the sun. I have a couple more stories from my day, surfing with God (not ‘a’ god), and “MoonBoy,” but they’ll have to wait. The photos are from places, evidently, all named ‘Secrets,’ and, really, I think the right hand break is in Canada. Must be. And so, we check the forecasts, check our schedules. If I could go today, I’d bet on the coast. Yeah; If… when… checking the forecast, thinking about my schedule… SCHEMING.

I’m afraid to give credit to the photographers or name the spots from the photos. It’s Clint on the wave with the rocks, though, when I guessed the spot, I got it wrong. I still think the other photos are from Canada. A right on the Straits is a very rare wave. BUT, YEAH, I do want to ride it.

Adam Wipeout’s Realsurfer Guide- Number 3; The ‘Roll-up-the-window’ and the ‘Double Over-the-falls’

Posted on April 14, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under northwest surfing, real surfers, surf adventures, surfing guide, wipeouts

I actually started doing a drawing/cartoon/illustration for this, but have a time crunch trying to get a major-sized job completed so I can (hopefully) have a day off during the week to hit what looks like the run of swell we’ve been waiting for. Sound familiar? The scheming, hoping, dreaming, mind-surfing, knowing you’re missing good (possibly… no, probably) waves with the promise (often imagined, often broken) of catching better waves?

Anyway, Adam Wipeout is a real person, totally stoked, more of a name-dropper, and definitely more of a name-rememberer than I am; but, since his nickname seems to be sticking, and because I actually got the ‘roll-up-the-window’ simile from him, he seems like the perfect spokesperson for realsurfer hints and tricks and techniques. Try any and all at home.

NUMBER ONE- might be that it’s all right to pee in your wetsuit or trunks, and might actually provide some temporary warmth, provided you’re at least genital-high in the water. It would be kind of embarrassing to be leaking yellow from the leg of a dry wetsuit (though the process of suiting-up with pumping waves visible can create an urgent need to go- at least it does for me). Washing of the wetsuit later is up to your own personal hygiene standards and practices. But, good idea.

NUMBER TWO- Never do a number two in the water. Okay, maybe, not confessing here, and, besides, statute of limitations, I may have done it once; way back, in an emergency, pulling down the trunks, underwater, and I was the only one out at, let’s say, the Oceanside South Jetty just before dawn, but, since it was a floater and not a sinker… lesson learned, lesson passed on.

NUMBER THREE- The technique is this: It’s a head-high wave, and, because you’re not sure you’ve actually caught it, you jump up, just like you’ve practiced, just like you do several times a day at your work, for more practice. It turns out you didn’t quite catch it, and you’re almost standing, maybe too much weight on the front foot, and you’re dropping in too late and too out of control. You stick both arms out perpendicular to your body, if your body was actually standing straight up, and you rotate those arms, just as if you were rolling up (or down) the windows in your car. I guess this would assume your car was, maybe a tiny smart car without automatic windows. Anyway, that’s the image. Arm rotators. Or, picture you’re at Waikiki in 1914 But, this attempt at rebalancing doesn’t work, and, as the wave drops out underneath you, the lip crashes into you as if you were (like, on purpose) performing a full body head-dip, and you go over the falls.

This is the first one, the single. Then, because the wave is so powerful, you’re sucked up from the trough and… no amount of arm-rolling can save you now, you go up and over the falls the second time, your board… you have no idea where your board is, you just hope it doesn’t hit you. You (and I really mean Adam) don’t need another thigh bruise like the time you tried the SUP, caught the outside (beach side) rail. Ouch! Still better than catching the outside rail, having the board come up, sideways, between your legs, as you do the single over the falls in the shorebreak. Happened to me. Once. Tamarack. Only once, though the-board-to-the-nose when I tried to push out through a wave and lost my grip on the rails… a couple of times. Tamarack, K-54. Oh, and now I’m remembering several instances of the dick-n-balls board slam/slap. Tamarack, Swamis, Pipes, etc.. This is less likely in a wetsuit than in loose board shorts, but usually means you didn’t get the nose-knock but did catch some air on the way out, then… ‘ouch, me hardies!’ (this is a response to this type of injury used by my son, James)

But, we learn. A hint from me, though I don’t remember ever having performed the double over the falls, and I’m way too cool to do the window-rolling thing, more likely to do the dismount/bail with accompanying yelp/scream: When you’re helpless, being thrashed by the wave, and you’re not sure where your board is, and you’re assuming the fetal position, both hands over your head… well, good luck. I have to go.

Thanks Adam. Get working on Number 4; how to look like a surfer and where to find the perfect apres’ surf hangout spot that isn’t actually a parking area or Goodwill, the real surfer’s clothing supplier.

My Daughter Drucilla and Chicago Fashion (possibly available for beach attire)

Posted on April 1, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under northwest surfing

Dru sent us this. It’s posterized, Warhol-esq. The idea, mainly, was to show what she had described to me while on her walk to work in Downtown Chicago. I’m not sure it’s appropriate work attire at the advertising agency where she’s part of the new acquisitions team. It probably is appropriate garb for navigating the mean streets where, as a matter of self-protection, one must have a tough, no-nonsense, ‘leave me the f alone’ demeanor; the fallback being, in the most dire emergency (and she got this advice from me when she was in college) to ‘just act like a crack whore; everyone will leave you alone.’

I decided this would work after, walking to a local liquor store (maybe it’d be called a bodega there? maybe just on TV) when I was there to help Dru move off the campus at Loyola), I observed this woman shaking and messed up, and observed the tough looking locals were keeping a distance. I will allow that maybe the ‘crack’ and the ‘whore’ may be wrong; she was, at least, crazy. I can do an impression if asked; though, when walking dark city streets at night, I prefer to try to look big and tough, and, if possible, walk in the street rather than on the sidewalks. Safer.

To my knowledge, Dru hasn’t had to use the ‘possibly very nice woman though obviously and seriously messed up or crazy’ ploy.

Then again, when wearing a fashion statement (as with the Ballin’ hat she’s been known to wear when it’s cold), sometimes fashion gets one stopped by street toughs for a question like, “Hey, Girl; so, yo, say; like, where can I get me one of them?” It could be “one of those,” or “one of them there?” How do I know? I live in the country; and I probably shouldn’t have added the ‘like’ to the imagined street lingo.

Well, the answer is: The graphic shirt was designed by the Fat Jew and Pizza Slime (these aren’t my nicknames, they’re, evidently, official), and was delivered in a pizza box that, and Dru claims may have just been her imagination, sort of smelled like pizza.

Okay, here’s Dru’s other “Fat Jew” shirt, a tank top, the photo taken with the camera on the phone Dru dropped on the floor at the Hodgson’s while home in the northwest last Christmas. Or maybe it was taken with a shaky hand at a Chicago nightspot.

And, finally… finally because I can’t think of a way in which any of this could be surf-related, here’s my daughter and her cat, Mister Pugsley (who has his own Facebook page). I don’t buy into the idea that he looks anything like me. Yes, I have the mustache, the intense look, but, mostly, I do manage to keep my tongue in my mouth.

Wait, on editing… not sure my daughter has her tongue in her mouth. Okay, good; Dru, use that as part of the fallback crazy act if, and we can only hope it isn’t, necessary, in the midwest’s surf capital, Chicago.

“So, This One Time, Back at Surf Camp…” a short story/illustration

Posted on March 30, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing, real surfers, surf adventures, surf illustrations, surfing art, surfing illustrations, Uncategorized

I showed this, at a bit of a distance, to my wife, Trish. She nodded, approvingly, then asked why there were so many words. "I can't help it," I explained. So difficult to be clever, even with a few phallic symbols and a double entendre or two. Oh,and now I've over-explained. Damn.

I showed this, at a bit of a distance, to my wife, Trish. She nodded, approvingly, then asked why there were so many words. “I can’t help it,” I explained. It’s just so difficult to be clever, even with an “American Pie” reference, a few phallic symbols and a double entendre or two. Oh,and now I’ve ‘over-explained.’

Email To Ray Hicks, 1,100 miles down Surf Route 101

Posted on March 25, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under northwest surfing, real surfers, secret surf spots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, surf adventures, surfing in Washington State, surfing Southern California in the 60s, writings of Erwin Dence

Hi Erwin,

Thanks for writing, I’ve been dragging my feet with no news. I’ve been ready for several weeks to get back in the water but when there was surf it was way bigger that I wanted to get into out of shape. Then there was none but I’m ready when there is some. So you should be getting a surf story soon.

Hey, Ray,
I know you’re all busy with your new house and all, but, man, you must have done some kind of surf activity by now. It’s been a pretty bad winter, supposedly the season, for surf on the Straits. The coast has been, overall, the place to go, but it’s farther away. I took off at 6:25 am on Saturday, with the buoy readings having just gone from iffy to a pretty good signal there might be waves. There weren’t. I hung at T— R—– a while, did some sewing and gluing on my gloves and wetsuit, took a nap, loaded up some rocks, chatted with a couple of other searchers, and with a father/son team checking crabpots, the father on shore and the son out in a dinghy. Mark, the dad, invited me to surf at the spot near his house some time. I know the spot, D— C—-, have checked it, but it’s farther out and is usually smaller than T— R—–. I was offered some fresh, live, Dungeness crab, but declined. Though we both love crab, it’s the live part that might freak Trish out, and keeping them alive would be a chore for me.
After two and a half hours, I left, drove back towards home and checked out C——-. Also flat, but, en route, I had passed Big Dave, once of PB, on his way out. Having talked on the cell phone to Keith, in PT, who was supposed to go with me, and hearing the buoy readings were even better and the tide was coming in, and thinking maybe Big Dave knew something I didn’t, would hit it big, and I wouldn’t hear about it until the next time I ran into him; I did something I rarely do; I headed back to T—-. Up the hill from the spot, I spotted Dave’s truck. Having already decided T—- wasn’t working, Dave, recently laid off from the mill in PA, was picking up cans on the side of the road (not so much because he was desperate- a little extra money when the surf might happen). He was planning on hitting C——- on the high tide, still hours away. While chatting with Dave, a three vehicle caravan with surfboards headed down the hill.
“Maybe it’s turning on.” “Doubt it.” “I’m going.” “See you.”
It was the cool hip Seattle crowd, “Oh, and we also surf;” checking out the scene, preparing a seaside brunch, letting their dogs go leashless. “What’s your name again,” Brad asked. “We’ve spoken before.” “Uh huh.”
There were a few waves catchable with the SUP, sort of protected from the rising west (sideshore) wind. I thought I’d go out. Then Dave showed up. “Pretty sad,” he said. Dave left, I went out, caught a few waves that required paddling to stay in them. I may have been the only one to go out on the Straits, mostly because I was desperate.

sorry to interrupt my own story, but in this version I added color to the original larger drawing.

Archie, back temporarily from Thailand and a business trip to Boston, and his friend Sandro had been planning on hitting C——- on the high tide. I called Archie and found they were at the state park having a sandwich. I was hungry; met up with them at a picnic table that overlooked the break. Not breaking. At least we couldn’t see waves from there.
Then I went to Costco, Petco… so much fun, then stopped at Archie’s house. Then I got a call from Keith saying N—- B—- was breaking and he was going home to get his stuff. I called Trish, she said, “Have fun, lock the car; and, by the way, I’m not making dinner.” Good enough. I hauled ass.
About five minutes away, Keith called back. “Oh, it’s gone?” “No, it’s better.”
Three waves in I forgot about the rest of the day. Great fun, with just Keith and Brett (who showed up already suited-up while I was suiting-up) and I trading waves. Brett had a girlfriend or wife on the beach, and got out before Keith and I did. We got out sometime after sundown, the waves having peaked, the window having closed.
My next posting will include my new motto: “You can’t get skunked if you don’t go.” Everyone I’ve tried it on goes, “ew.” And then there’s the glass half full version, “You can’t score if you don’t go.”
So, I got back in my driveway at 8:25. Fourteen hours, dark to dark. I drove about 180 miles, round trip. Keith did about 18 blocks.

Anyway, get some surfing in. And let me know.
See you, Erwin

Submitted Photos of Secret Agent at Top Secret Spot Near My Dad’s House

Posted on March 4, 2015 by Erwin A. Dence Jr. under northwest surfing, real surfers, surf adventures, surf photos, surf sessions, surfing in Washington State, Uncategorized

While they were getting deadly (for surfers without Hepatitis protection) rain on the southern most reaches of Surf Route 101, and nothing was happening, surfwise, on the far north section, one intrepid Straits surfer headed down and out, found some waves down near my Dad’s house. Allright, I can’t say more except to say that, when I go visit my Dad, I usually drive across the bridge, through the westernmost part of Astoria, and head on to Seaside or Short Sands; and, when I called him to ask about waves close to the harbor where the sport fishing boat on which he worked (as a 55 year old bait boy) was kept, safe from the sometimes wild waves from the open ocean and the notorious bar the boat crossed twice a day.

No more hints, even if you think you recognize the take-off-and-tuck style of the surfer on the red board. Oh, and the clean-looking wave, breaking into an offshore wind? I went to that very spot, known by locals as a spot where all kinds of sealife shares the water, bodies frequently washing ashore, with surfers brave enough to brave the… no, I haven’t surfed there; yet.

But, my Dad’s 91st birthday is coming up; and there’s still no real swell showing that might hit closer to my house on the Surf Route, and my father’s house is a block off the same highway, about three and a half hours of driving and… I’ll let you know.

Real Surfers

Shoulder-hoppers and name-droppers

Category Archives: northwest surfing