Cowells

Cowells sandbar 2016

                                                                                            

    

3/11/08 Cowells, 7am before work, even tide, nw & south swells, slight offshore wind, water and air temp mid-50s, waves 2-4' good shape on south sets, sand bar working, glassy, steamier than expected, small group of locals and two eastsiders. Stoked. (from KS surf log)

"Cowells is a gutless wave."

So declared my friend Steve when I told him I was surfing Cowells. He had surf-cred to make such a definitive statement. He made lots of statements. Just like he rode lots of fast, firing waves. He was dialed in to all the breaks between Ventura and Santa Cruz. At one time he worked for a shaper in Santa Barbara and test-rode new boards at Rincon, C-Street and other known and unknown spots along that section of the southern California coast.

Cowells is a beginner wave. The vibe is overall friendly. It is the final break of a wave that has wrapped around the outside point and combed through the peaks of Steamer Lane, then Indicators and finally, its energy dissipated and guts disemboweled, humps into a mellow cove with the ferociousness of a playful kitten. 

Cowells is a family wave. It is where kids of Santa Cruz learn to surf. It's where westsiders meet their neighbors. It's where you can ride a wide-breaking wave with a friend, or friends, making what is mostly a solitary thrill into a shared experience. At times the slow rollers seem to break forever, affording a ride from outside of Cypress Point all the way to the beach in front of the Dream Inn. It can be a love-fest of hoots and smiles. 

Cowells is where the original Santa Cruz Surfing Club was founded in 1936.

"An excellent beginner's wave," says Bank Wright about Cowells in his seminal 1973 guidebook, "Surfing California." "Slow, easy right slides, usually glassy, takes a 2-6-foot north or west swell."

Cowells is all of that and more. When conditions are right, it can also be one of the best nose-riding waves around, drawing the best long-boarders in the area to ride perfectly shaped, fast-reeling waves across its sandy bottom.

In the year 2000, to celebrate Cowells and the new millennium, Santa Cruz surf legend-turned-film maker Pat Farley debuted his prize-winning documentary about Cowells that paid homage to the unique surf break and many of its measures and characters.

Farley called Cowells one of world's "premier longboard waves." He interviewed a cast of local longboarders who explained the art of nose-riding, likening the classic standing position on the front tip of the board to "walking on water."

The film pays tribute to local female surfers, including Michele Scott and Miranda Pitts, excellent longboarders who grew up with saltwater in their veins and reside in the westside neighborhood above Cowells. In one segment, Farley focuses on the grace and fluidity of Pitts, noting how high-quality surfing can be accomplished on small waves. 

In a nod to California's surfing origin, the documentary points out that the three Hawaiian princes who introduced surfing to the mainland in 1887 did so at the "far east end of Cowells known as the Rivermouth," at the mouth of the San Lorenzo River.

Making Waves

Waves are created by wind from storms thousands of miles away in the northern and southern hemispheres. Typically the northern groundswells come to California in winter and the southern swells in spring and early summer. The winter swells are stronger and more consistent coming from the north. The waves arrive in sets.

During powerful winter swells, pounding sea water and run-off rain from the mountains pull tons of sand offshore, moving it southerly with the currents. Stormy winters create beaches, sand bars and spits along the coast, filling the coves. A natural cove, Cowells has a sandy bottom and depends on that granular ingredient to make it shallow enough to make waves. Low tides help as well.

Still, no swell, no waves. Summer doldrums are common.

My first ride at Cowells was in summer of 1979 on a postcard golden morning. No fog. Sun rising in reds and orange over the Santa Cruz Mountains. I rode a beat-up board of splintering fiberglass given to me, or, more aptly, that I was willing to accept. I wasn't about to buy a board. Surfing in those days was the last thing on my mind.

I was concentrating on keeping a job and family going while living in my adopted dream hometown of Santa Cruz. I was on a tight budget and paying for a surfboard seemed akin to throwing money at gambling, especially since I had no commitment to the sport. I found my exercise by running and using a bicycle for transportation to work.

That's where I met Ramon Espanol, at my office in Soquel the home of Santa Cruz Publishing Company where I was editor of several local periodicals. Ramon was a journalism intern from San Jose State. His specialties were photography and surfing. 

I liked Ramon right off. He was an opportunistic intern, ready to learn, eager to play, handsomely dark-skinned. I put him to work, helping me fill editorial content in our publications -- a weekly newspaper called The News and a bi-weekly Visitors Guide for the summer. I was an editorial staff of one and relied on a stable of talented freelancers who were easy to find during those halcyon days in Santa Cruz.

"Do you surf?" Ramon asked me one day between assignments.

"I used to."

"I have an extra board you can have. Let's go out sometime!" he said with earnest, youthful enthusiasm. His summer in Santa Cruz was obviously going to include shooting curls as well as photographs.

Our first session was at Manresa, a south county beach break. Before deciding on Manresa, we had driven around and checked a few other spots, a mandatory ritual that I remembered from my high school days. Being summertime, the pickings were slim.

At Manresa, I caught a couple of waves. Small summer peaks. It felt good. I took the board home, stashed it in my garage on Walk Circle, kept it there until that early morning I decided to take it out to Cowells.

I slipped the 8-foot, banged-up board into my well-kept 1967 Volkswagen bus, my means of motor travel during that period, drove a mile or so to the bluff above Cowells. Tiny 2-footers were rolling in. It seemed a perfect time to be in the water: not crowded, stellar sunrise, plenty of time before work.

As I prepared to enter the water, I strapped a leash cord attached to the board around my ankle. The leash was a new feature of surfing unfamiliar to me. The chord was made of stretchy rubber.

When the first little roller came my way, I turned, took a few quick paddles, sprang to my feet and found myself cruising on a wave that was so slow there was no way I could hold my balance. I fell off the board into 2-feet of water, looked up and saw the tail of my gnarly, splintered board, pulled by my leash, heading toward my face. It banged into my upper lip with force of what felt like a pipe wrench.

Still conscious, standing in the knee-deep soup, my first thought was that I had most likely knocked out my two front teeth. With my hand, I felt that my teeth were still attached to my upper gum, although that part of my mouth was completely numb. I was unsure if they were loose and wouldn't fall out later that morning.

My first experience of surfing Cowells had been a minor disaster. Yet I can still smile about it with my front teeth intact. They didn't fall out.

A hard rule of surfing: Just because a wave doesn't have a lot of guts doesn't mean you cannot get hurt. It also doesn't mean you cannot have a lot of fun.

Next Wave: Meet some of the local characters of  Cowells.