All night long high winds and rain that goes sideways fusillade Ocean View. Lightning booms and light arcs through the window shades and then sleep overtakes Wracks in his little room in the corner, shrouded by trees in the enclave next to campus. Saturday Morning arrives and sunlight beams across the window onto the living room. Cool sits at the kitchen table along with Koest, an old friend from tranquil Hills.
“When did Koest get here,” asks Wracks
“He came in last night and you were asleep.” Says Kool.
“I checked out Campus point and Coal oil point and they are at least fifteen to twenty feet. Lets hit it.” Says Wracks.
“No!” “We are going to surf El Cap this morning.” States Kool.
“I’m ready,” says Koest.
“I have to have a cigarette and a cup of coffee to get me up,” says Wracks
“I will be loading the van,” says Kool.
El Capitan State Beach Park exists as a special place, a hidden place, a secluded place, far enough away that nobody goes there. To arrive at El Capitan, he or she drives north on Pacific Coast highway one for two hours until they see the big green and brown sign to turn off. A few miles up the coast from El Cap, situates the City of Gaviota and Gaviota Point State Beach. Out in the lineup at El Capitan, a rider can see the point of Gaviota in the distance. Looking in from the air, El Capitan lays as a large comma-shaped point oriented in the southwest direction. Boulders, stones, and pebbles form the large point and a campsite resides inland surrounded by large pine trees. A parking area situates at the tip of the point so day users can enjoy the scenery. Out in the ocean sit the majestic Channel Islands and the water is dark grayish-blue. From a surfer’s point of view, El Capitan provides a point break type wave that tunnels in six inches of water. The breaking wave throws inward farther out than it is high. Although not as pretty as the Banzai Pipeline, El Capitan point breaks with more force and more danger. The downside of El Capitan State Beach Point stems from its geography. For the most part, the beach sits in the shadow of San Nicolas Island and Santa Rosa to the south. For this reason, on a large West swell, El Capitan State Beach point will break half the size of Campus point and Rincon on the same west swell. Additionally, the city of Gaviota to the north pumps all the farm waste and sewage directly into the ocean and the area has the notoriety as another shark pit in the red triangle of death. The factor that allures all wave riders is the reality that El Capitan Point waves break in a tube that throws out farther than the wave is high. For example, a six-foot wave will be a six-foot square cavern breaking down a long point in shallow water. Today four other wave riders brave the white sharks and sit in a pack at the peak. The time to surf El Cap is when the swell is really big and it will be smaller. The tide looms high and backwashes from the point balloons the waves into huge monstrosities of pain. Where Campus turns at twenty feet clean rulers, El Capitan at this moment vomits ten-foot ugly monsters down a gravelly, rock-strewn point.
“I’m out,” says Koest. “I may never get the chance to surf it this big ever again.’
“Yeah Dah,” screams Kool. “I’m goofy foot,” and he waxes his board with paraffin, smokes a cigarette and drinks a Heineken lager beer. Kool pulls out a large beef stick food item, chews it down and washes the bolus down his throat with beer. After hiding his car keys, Kool grabs his red Nat Pro pintail gun and runs to the water and is in and paddles. A huge set rolls in and Kool pushes through a feathering lip and makes it outside alive and unscathed. Koest and Wracks slowly wax-up and survey the lineup. The sets arrive every twenty minutes and the biggest wave is either the first or second one. Wracks and Koest hit the beach, time the sets, and set outward. Wracks waits outside as usual so not to compete for waves in the pack. Wracks want the big one. Within a half-hour, a big one rolls in, Wracks commits and is engulfed a huge disgorging, upchucking beast. At the bottom, Wraks turns, drifts up the face, sets his edge, puts his hands together, and prays. The wave turns in front of him, closes around him, convulses, and disgorges the wayfarer after four seconds of pure speed. Wracks glides out of the thing, makes a few turns, and kicks out of the wave. As Wraks paddles back up to the peak with the pack, Koest screams by on a mutant clone, and Wracks see him grit his teeth as he holds his rail backside and accelerates past him. Kool has the time of his life, screams, and starts to attract a big shark. On his third wave, Wracks breaks the nose off of his board in the shallow water but paddles back out and surfs a nose less board covered with duct tape.
“I might never catch El Cap this big ever again,” thinks Wracks. Wracks is right. He will never see El Capitan state beach like this ever again.
“We are leaving,” says Kool “The waves drop in size as we speak.” “Let’s go surf some lefts.”
The Three throw their boards into the brown and yellow van, strip their wet suits, have a cigarette, dress and enter the van. Koest rides shotgun. Wracks lie on the bed in the back with the boards. Kool lights a cigarette and pulls another Heineken from his cooler, pops the top with an opener, and gulps the whole bottle down in a single draw. The tuned exhaust on the van booms a raspy growl and the three head out of El Capitan State Beach Park. Halfway done, the day rolls on, the sun, beams down proudly and a few clouds from the previous big storm remain. Ten minutes down south from El Capitan, sits a deep water reef that breaks left. At this instant, the reef shows at least twice overhead.
“I am going out,” says Kool
“I too, says Koest.
The two drag on cold, cold, wetsuits, wax their boards, and head down to the reef. Wracks sit in his Druid robe, smokes a cigarette, and watches. The nose of his Nat Pro homebrew board will half to be glassed back on his board at home. Wracks do not want to risk ruining the entire board so he refrains from joining the two and surveys the world. Kool and Koest nab big waves on the reef and surf until they cannot paddle anymore. Arriving quietly back at the van, they dress, and the crew drive down PCH back to Island view community. Back at the apartment, the gear stows inside, and Wracks sits down on the couch.
“I have to do homework,” says Wracks
“Me and Koest are going to Big D’s, says Kool
“Big D is having a party.”
The Wracks never has the chance to return to El Capitan State Beach Park. Maybe the location sits too far away. Maybe El Cap does not share the things that make a return visit possible. Maybe the place looms too remote, too secluded, and too unpopulated to return to conscious memory. Wracks never get to test the secret of El Capitan State Beach Park Point. A local that day confides to him to check the break on the next huge southwest swell. The Secret of El Capitan Point is this: the spot locates exactly at the gap between Santa Rosa Island and San Nicholas Island. On a big southwest swell, the waves sneak through the gap and focus on El Capitan State Beach. The local says, “El Capitan breaks biggest and has the best form on a big southwest swell contrary to popular opinion.” El Capitan breaks better in the summer and when time exists for you, be there on a big southwest swell.” Wracks never receives the luck to test the secret suggestion. Possibly the local wants Wracks to be eaten by a big white shark, in the summer when they are most active. The secret remains untested until the next generation in their youthful exuberance happens upon El Cap in the summer, on a road trip, when southern hemisphere cyclones generate huge swells. Wracks sits in his little den, with a light, a cigarette, a cup of coffee, and a loaf of bread and study Newtonian Calculus. In the den, in the apartment surrounded by a grove of trees in an obscured location shaded from the sun, Wracks stays nurturing Cools hydroponic garden until the quarter concludes and the stay in Island View comes to an end.