Surfing the Oregon Coast

I had the opportunity to drive my friend, Alan's Prius to Portland, OR last week. He was moving up there with his family and wanted to save money on transporting it- so for the price of gas and a flight home, I volunteered to drive it, and check out the coast of northern California and Oregon. I had seen and been inspired by the article, "50 Greatest Places to Go This Summer" in the July '13 issue of Men's Journal. One of the spots featured is the Oregon coast and a remote beach called Agate Beach (pronounced Egget by locals). Theres' a grainy, blown out picture of a lone surfer in a lush cove that got to me... It's rare that you get the chance to actually try to find one of these places. Most of the time, you read the magazine in a dentist's office and that's it, head back to work. But to actually journey to one of these remote places and make it happen- be that lone surfer in that grainy photo- that's what I wanted to do.



After staying two nights in San Luis Obispo, and driving the amazing coastline of Big Sur, I stayed in San Francisco. Monday morning, 6am, my buddy in SF, Jared, and I tried to surf the cold and rough waters of Ocean Beach. He lent me his 6'0 board and a wetsuit with holes that looked like a shark had taken a bite out of it. We tied my leash on with the lace from my Converse. Despite being relatively unsuccessful in the big and unpredictable surf, there's a certain joy in just getting out there and braving the sea that early and on a Monday- and in fairly cold San Fran waters. You get out and suddenly the cold isn't that bad; you take your wetsuit down and it's like you're invincible. Jared put it best- "Well, it can only get better from here".

That morning I set out for the Redwoods and drove 3 hours to Willits, a small, Western town with a decent steak burrito. Another friend had recommended the town, but it seemed like one of those places you need to know someone to really find where to go. I continued on, driving through the redwood towns of Benbow, Garberville, and the unbelievable Avenue of the Giants. Those trees have a special kind of magic, and the solitude you feel driving there is real- and puts you in touch with something deep (some of those trees are thousands of years old)...though the mood's easily lightened by the kitsch of some of the roadside attractions. I was still beat from surfing and lack of sleep- but had gained a second and then a third wind. As the sun started to hang low, I happened across Patrick's Point in Trinidad, CA. Craggy cliffs made me remember visiting Ireland way back in 2000 and the broken rocks in the water have their own, unique poetry. Something about the rhythm of the waves crashing... There was no place to stay, so I went on to Redwoods Nat'l Park, waiting for random elk to cross the road, before ultimately, staying in Klamath, CA- ten hours north of SF.

The next day, feeling somewhat spent, I went to Gold Beach, also mentioned in the MJ article- and investigated surfing there. The surf was small, infrequent, and while the beaches were beautiful- with more rock formations that looked like battered pirate ships, and a cool mist rising off the clear, gray water, the sets were choppy and small. Surf shops were few. I found one place that rented stand up paddleboards, but didn't feel like going out by myself. I hit another surf shop in Brookings, 30 minutes south of Gold Beach, but, byt the time I got there, it was closed.





I stupidly got a speeding ticket in Gold Beach going 40mph in a 30 mph zone ($200) and felt almost immediately like getting to Portland and getting the eff out of Alan's Prius. At that point it had been about five days on the road, several with poor sleep, and more, with blunted attempts at surfing. Nevertheless, Agate called to me. I met a woman in Brookings by the closed surf shop who told me that Agate was a kind of lucite stone common to Pacific beaches and revered by Native Americans back in the day. That would explain why my Maps function came up with multiple Agate beaches- in CA, near Bolinas, Oregon, and even in Washington state.

Portland was a short six hour, Beastie Boys-filled car ride from Gold Beach and it was nice to be back in civilization. Alan and his family were a lot of fun to spend time with and he and I caught up over whiskeys ($6 Bullit!) at RonToms, Ace Hotel, and I had hit Doug Fir by the Jupiter Hotel (cool spot). Alan let me borrow the car for one more attempt at Agate beach. "Send me an email if you're doing it.." he said in his kitchen at 2am, as we pounded waters. "I'm out- but you can take the car. I need it by noon though." At 5am, I sent him a note- subject heading, "Doing it". Through a Nat'l Forrest and the Zimmerman trial reports, I arrived in Tillamook two hours later, at 7am to find, big surprise, there was no surf shop. My Maps function on my phone was freaking out and was stuck. The Oregon coast and AT&T are apparently not friends. I asked some dude at a gas station, and he'd never heard of Agate. So I just followed my Maps functionto the supposed destination- near the seaside hamlet of Oceanside, up a mountain, through a glen, near private property, and up to a majorly beautiful lookout. There was no one in sight- and I could see that, though Agate was close, it wasn't going to be worth it to pursue any further. The beach from the picture was somewhere close by, I knew, but I also had no surfboard, was trespassing, and had no map. Lame. I had come all that way for a pretty view. I couldn't accept it. Even though, Alan needed his car back by noon, I decided to head to Seaside, a small, surf town an hour north of there. I thought that at least I'd get an hour of surfing in before I had to head back. I had come something like 1500 miles, I thought. This needs to happen.



As 9am rolled around, and hearing the same NPR report on the Zimmerman trial again, I approached Seaside. A surfboard by the side of the road with the word, Shuler, on it, caught my eye, and I pulled over to check it out. As I walked over to the beat up, wooden house/shop, a shirtless, older man, appeared in the upper window. "Can I help you?" he asked. I felt like I was in some foreign movie- or at least a foreign land. He was a local shaper obviously. "Do you rent boards?" I asked. He chuckled, I think, excited to see an inspired traveler. "Up the street, behind the Chevron, they do. Tell 'em Shuler sent you." I was pumped. Success was imminent. A few miles up the road, was Seaview Surf Shop and a couple cute surf girls to rent me a Shuler board, with cool, custom Joan Miro-type artwork, and a wetsuit and booties. It all fit into the Prius easily and I had a tarp, which was cool. The tide was supposed to come in two hours later at 11am. I called Alan and was able to keep the car the whole day- which rocked.

After buying a lunch, I headed to West Oswald Nat'l Park and Short Sands- a welcoming, and popular surf cove. It was cold and gray out, a Friday morning and on the beautiful little hike to the beach, through mossy, Douglas Fir trees with gnarled and ancient trunks, I met some other travelers and talked about surf music, the Beach Boys, Dick Dale, and the Ventures. The cove was gorgeous- and jaw dropping.. It opened out before me, with cliffs on either side, dark rock formations, and a steady, even break that went right, center, and left. There were only about fifty surfers over a large expanse. Perfect. I didn't expect the water to be so cold- though I should've gotten the hint, as the surf ladies had rented me a 5.0 wetsuit, booties, gloves, and headguard. I didn't wear the headguard at first, thinking it looked lame- but after an hour of brain freeze, I decided to give it a try.



Surfing Oregon was awesome- and the guys in the water were all cool and welcoming and curious about my Shuler, custom board- assuming I was a local. I caught some great waves- though small, and was able to turn on the board, which was cool. After two 90 minute sessions, I had my fill- and knew I had a two hour ride back to Portland. Feeling relaxed and for lack of a better word- stoked- I drove back and headed to Powell's Books- a legendary used and new bookstore. The fitness section was massive, and they had some cool books on surfing too. In retrospect, it was such a great expereience to be able to wander up the coast by myself, being inspired by the changing landscape, craggy rock cliffs, and ancient trees. It was a welcome change from the routine of my last video project and training for the fitness test. Most of the time, people don't actually follow their whims and pick a point on a map to go to, or look at an article and decide to do something. But they can- you can...Follow your dreams, oh ye gentle reader- and make it happen. People are much cooler on the road than you expect, and though it can get sorta lonely, it's cool to do your own thing and see some new sights. It's a big world out there- and plenty of amazing, surf beaches. Big thanks to Alan, his wife, and everyone else who helped make the trip a success.

This song, btw, was on repeat throughout the trip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GABE5NIBrRk