The ocean claimed another yesterday...a surfer off Yaquina Head died in big waves despite assistance from his friends and others. It's a risky endeavor in some instances...paddling out into overhead and bigger surf.
It's still too early to tell if this was an instance of an able and experienced surfer drowning for unknown reasons...or if it was a beginner, in way over his head...either way, it's a sad situation.
I wasn't on the coast yesterday...but conditions didn't look particularly friendly...35 knot winds with a short period 15 foot swell...paddling out on a day like that, perhaps points to a lack of understanding of what the ocean is capable of...if so, it's a hard way to learn.
A post on the OSP from a local I surfed with at Agate a month back on a OH & 1/2 day said:
I checked Agate several times yesterday and it was huge and out of control out there most of the day - no way was I paddling out.
Another surf associate whose opinion I trust stated:
I drove by it...It was completely out of control. Not huge and lined up just big and terrible. An experienced surfer would have never even considered paddling out into that crap and if they did they would have done what we always do when in trouble, point that sucker at the shore and hang on for dear life. Thoughts and prayers for that dude, his friends and family. I hope some of you that post and lurk here learn something form this. I had to bail a kid out who lost his board (rental) there not too long ago in DOH conditions. Scared out of his mind hanging on the rocks...
Local Report (from deeper south):
...180 degree's from yesterdays gale, easterly's early, hh and empty everywhere. ~tfd
~photo by Hicks
~Photo by Craig Stecyk, 1995
W WIND 10 TO 15 KT...VEERING TO NW IN THE AFTERNOON.WIND WAVES 2 FT. W SWELL 7 FT AT 9 SECONDS... BUILDING TO 9 FT AT 10 SECONDS IN THE AFTERNOON.
Not a 100% sure, but this sure looks like a sequence of Reno Abellira from "Morning of the Earth". His 1974 Smirnoff win at maxed out Waimea Bay is still considered one of the most awesome, terrifying surfing competition ever held. In 1975, Abellira brought a standup version of the twin fin Lis Fish to Australia for the Coke Contest in Sydney, an import of design that is considered to have inspired the twin-fin era and Mark Richards' following dominance on the fledgling pro tour. Along with Gerry Lopez, Reno was a Dick Brewer protege; he was a classic stylist of the early pro era, producing flamboyant performances in waves from two to twenty feet.
S WIND 15 TO 25 KT...BECOMING S 25 TO 30 KT WITH GUSTS TO 35 KT LATER THIS MORNING. COMBINED SEAS 10 FT...BUILDING TO 13 FT. DOMINANT PERIOD 10 SECONDS.
SW WIND 15 TO 20 KT...BECOMING S 20 TO 25 KT WITHGUSTS TO 30 KT IN THE AFTERNOON. WIND WAVES 4 FT...BUILDING TO 6FT. W SWELL 10 FT AT 10 SECONDS.
Checked the surf yesterday...looked pretty ragged. However, I did see some ridables coming through at a typically unsurfed spot on the central coast. It would have been a real chore getting out to them though...no channel and no letup...just relentless inner bar mayhem.
Ryme of the Ancyent Watyrman
VI.
FIRST VOICE.
"But tell me, tell true of the Watyrman,
"The solemn vow seem'd soul renewing--
"Ayn how dyd waves ryse up so huge?
"What were those sea spyryts doing?
SECOND VOICE.
"Like styll calm waters 'fore the storm,
"The Ocean holds ne wrath:
"The wave's almond eye spyn's silent
"Ayn to the Horn'd moon it is cast--
"The Watyrman kens whych way to go,
"For she guydes hym smooth ayn in trym.
"See, broth'r, see! ayn how gracyously
"She doth looketh down on hym.
FIRST VOICE.
"What magyc makes hys gun e'er true
"Defy'n the wave ayn the wynd?
SECOND VOICE.
"Wynd tis the source behynd ayn afore,
Push'n deep water steep towards shore.
"Dryve, ye wynd, dryve! more hygh, more hygh,
"For wythout the hale surf he's ill fat'd.
"For blow by ayn blow the wynd it doth flow,
"Ayn the Watyrman's trance be abat'd.
-----------
Awake'd from my dream, I was far to sea
Thank God 'twas gentle weather:
Twas nyght, calm nyght, the moon was on hygh;
Ayn deep ocean swells march'd on together.
They marched on together cross't the deep sea,
Ayn I paddl'd along I was wyth her:
I gaz'd far away wyth stone tyr'd eyes
At sea swells that in moonlyght glytt'r'd.
Thy spyryts fell curse had dryv'n me out,
Where none other would soon pass my way:
There ne would be brothers to aid me along
Ayn ne was I a man tend to pray.
In deep sea tyme the spell she was snapt,
Ayn shorebyrds soon wheel'd o'erhead:
I look'd far-forth, but noth'n I saw
Of dear shorelyne ayn waves ly'n ahead.
Lyke one, that sole in a lonely lyneup
Doth paddle in fear ayn in dread,
Hav'n been caught one tyme too inside
He now stays far outsyde instead:
He's become weak, ayn a'fear'n the peak
That ere could close out 'pon hys head.
Then there breath'd a wynd 'pon me,
The swells behynd me jump'd quyck:
That path that they blew was ne out to sea
But blew me towards shore fog foul thyck.
The wynd rays'd my hayr, y fann'd my cheek,
Lyke a meadow-gayl sweet in the spring--
Myngl'n strangely wyth unfound'd fears,
Styll it felt lyke a welcom'n thing.
Swyftly, aye swyftly on flew the swells,
The gun it true softly knyf'd through:
Sweetly, aye sweetly, on blew the breeze--
Gains't the backs of grow'n swells it now blew.
O dreams of rapt joy! is thys indeed
A lyght-house top that I see?
Is thys thy Cape? Is thys thy Beach?
Is thys myne own sweet countrée?
Dryft'n o'er bull kelp beds e'er thyck,
Ayn true, wyth deep sobs dyd I pray--
"O my dear Lord, let me be now awake
"Or let me sleep on for always!"
Kelp lyn'd break twas smooth'r'n glass,
Across't it lynes regular peel'd!
As lyke a myrror moonlyght dyd lay,
Reflect'n twyce hollow tubes real.
Oyl'd moonlyt water was all aglow,
Ayn eeryly rys'n from same,
Full many shapes, there shadows were,
Sea Spyryts wyth torches came.
Just a byt dystant off the gun's nose
Theyr dark-red shadows dyd flare;
Ayn soon I saw that my own flesh
It glow'd red-lyke in that hell glare.
I turn'd 'way head in fear ayn in dread,
Ayn I swear by the holy rood,
That the spyryts advanc'd, ayn now
They before my board stood.
They rays'd up dead arms ryght styff,
Ayn held them all rygyd and tyght;
In each spyryt hand there sat a brand,
Of the Devyl's own hell lyquyd fyre.
Theyr hurrycane eye-balls reflect'd
The red'n'd ayn smoky torchlyght.
I deygn'd ne to pray and quyck strok'd away
I thought "ne offend as before".
Then up come a breeze hard on the bay,
Yet ne waves came they gayns't the shore.
The cobbles shon bryght, the beacon dyd too
That stood true ayn strong 'bove the rock:
With sylent moonlyght steep'd in styllness
I glyd'd toward shore lyke a hawk.
The bay it near glow'd wyth sylent moonlyght,
Tyll the wynds dyd arryve from afar
Then famylyar shapes, lyn'd shadows came,
Aye, great surf wyth whych I'd soon spar.
I spun 'round ayn gaz'd out from my board
At the glymmer'n shadows out there:
I cast my eyes then down on my deck--
O Chryst! Dyd I agayn dare?
Each set then rys'd up, bigger'n before;
I swear on Holy boards o'wood
I saw there on each, a thyn seraph-man,
Inexplycably on each set wave stood.
Thys seraph-band, was true byg wave hands:
Twas truly a heavenly syght:
As theyr boards reach'd dry land,
Each step'd onto earth in delight:
Adyeu seraph-band, ayn each wav'd a hand,
Ne encouragement they impart'd to me--
Ne help for me then; my heart it near sank,
As I spyed the great wave out at sea.
All alone dyd I hear the crash of deep stones,
Yet the power of the swell gave me cheer:
Ayn so I lyned up my trusted good board
As huge swell wyth great lyp it did rear.
Then vanysh'd all guid'n lyght from above;
Ayn the shore it was blot'd from view:
So by good God's grace, wyth me in my place,
I drop'd into the wave and I flew true.
Ne wyggl'n ne trycks ayn ne motyons I made,
I would lyve or I would dye born anew.
This Swell was the very far wynd's born chyld
Thryll'd I harness'd hys glyde and her flow:
Dear Lord in hygh Heaven! it was a deep joy
That a non-surf'n man could not know.
I rac'd down the lyne--ayn the wave it up threw:
I tuck'd deep in the polysh'd pure curl!
I hooted out loud a foul surfer oath
Ayn was trap'd in that spyn'n foam whorl.
That wave cleans'd my soul, it fayr wash'd away
Fear ayn worry of thys earth bound world.
SW WIND 20 TO 25 KT EASING TO 15 TO 20 KT BY MID MORNING. WINDWAVES 5 FT. W SWELL 12 FT AT 10 SECONDS...SUBSIDING TO 10 FT AT 11SECONDS IN THE AFTERNOON.
Part 5 of Sam's Rime...
Ryme of the Ancyent Watyrman
V.
Swells are mighty and gentle things
Origin'd from pole to pole!
To the sea-queen all praise should be gave
For she sent sweet swells down from heaven
Celestial waves nourish'd my soul.
Clueless kooks stay'd dry on the shore
There they had forev'r remain'd,
I dreamt them glistn'n ayn cover'd with dew
Then awoke to find it had rain'd.
My ocean was wild, a wind blew unmild,
My hopes for fine surf were all sank;
Yet in my dreams I surfed on and then
In my mind's eye good Neptune I thank'd.
Water so cold I could ne feel my limbs,
I grow'd dreary grow'd weak, just almost
Then consign'd and resign'd to the ocean to sleep,
Soon to live an unlife a surf Ghost.
Then the wind roar'd! it roar'd from far off,
It did not come near; but I hear'd it
Before the wynd's power mass'd waves soon did tower
As I scratch'd out o'er peak into pit.
From wave tops ne low, spindrifts did blow,
Soon the air was engulf'd in a sheen
Dodg'n sets all about; to and fro, in and out
I danc'd and I charg'd in between.
The wind it soon roar'd ever more loud;
Blow'n froth piled up all like sedge:
Rain it pour'd down from black surly clouds
Ayn the Horned Moon it sat at it's edge.
Then the cloud tore asund'r,
Rent by echo'n thunder:
Ayn light like a waterfall flew,
Bright lightning split ayn jag'd light lit
A steep wave face lin'd up and true.
Howl'n winds keen'd ayn moan'd:
I grip'd my board and stay'd prone!
'Neath the light'n rain and the moon
Aye I'm quite proud ayn loath to admit
I could be hear'd to give a small groan.
I groan'd, but I stir'd, for the waves all uprose,
I ne spake, ne dar'd blink shut my eyes:
It seem'd very strange, p'raps even a dream
To see a wave like that one rise.
My strong arms they strok'd, the gun she mov'd on;
Yet again the stout breeze it up-blew;
watyrman wise, I checked my leg rope
(When it's this big I am wont to do)
I work'd my fore limbs like motoriz'd tools--
And wonder'd where in hell was my crew?
Then dyd I spy my good brother's son
He paddled just off my right knee:
This boy and I we strok'd eye to eye,
But he never said nought'n to me--
O how I hat'd to know his true fate
How frightful and certain t'would be!
Day-light at once dawn'd--I rest'd my arms,
Ayn I look'd all around for the boy:
Salty tears mix'd with the cruel bitt'r ocean
For no sign of him, ne surf ahoy.
Then from behind there came a sweet sound,
The faint call of my good brother's son:
Ayn soon the same sounds they came once again
From my crew, paddling out one by one.
Waves seem'd to drop near straight from the sky
I soon hear'd those surf'n skegs sing;
My good friends were all there
Their stok'd crys fill'd sea and air
With their sweet surf'r jargoning,
We played sweet music on waves,
Like sweet notes from a flute;
Then sang we an angel's song
Sweet music we play'd, the kind
That will make the talkiest tongue go mute.
The session it ceas'd: and all then went in
Save me for twas only noon,
Then a noise like an angry brook
Did rise in the month of June,
My sleeping brothers ashore alright
Their slumb'r a quiet'r tune.
Listen, O listen, thou ocean-guest!
"Watyrman! thou hast thy will:
"That which does come from stormy eye, doth make
"Both body and soul be still."
Never a sadder tale was told
To man or woman surf born:
Sadder and wiser thou ocean-guest!
They should have surf'd pass't the morn.
Never a sadder tale was heard
By a man or a woman surf born:
My fellow watyrmen had return'd to shore
And fell silent as the great wave it form'd.
The Watyrmen all 'gan put on their leg ropes,
But look'n at me they know'd:
That there was no way that they'd ever get--
To where I now sat behold.
Silently far swells they sail'd on
And no more ne breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly I paddl'd forth
Duck div'n the first wave beneath.
Under my keel near nine fathom deep
From the land of the mist and snow
I felt the wave spirit: Aye it was He
That made my sleek water gun go.
My boys on shore left off with their tune
And the sea was soon still also.
My head was center'd upon the stringer
My eye was fix'd on the ocean:
Then in a minute she began stir
With a short uneasy unquiet motion--
Upwards and downwards near half her length
Undulating in uneasy violent commotion.
Then, like a rear'n horse it let go,
The wave lurch'd in a sudden bound:
I felt my blood rush't to my head,
And I swung my pintail around.
How hard I paddled I cannot say,
ayn for some time I dare to declare;
When I stood up my life it return'd,
Down I flew and my soul then discern'd
Fierce water spirits float'n on air,
"Is it he? quoth the one, "Is this the man?
"Is it him who dares ride my swell?
"With his cruel gun he's lay'd my waves low
"But now sure shall I send him to hell.
The spirit rose higher than ever before
A wave like had never been seen,
But I lov'd the wave as I lov'd the sea
And I made it across down'n'out clean
The spirits now offer'd a far softer voice
As soft as the sweet honey-dew:
Quoth they "The man he hath penance done,
"And ne penance ne more ne will do.
IV.
You're a mystery, my ancyent Watyrman!
"And I fear your charg'n ways;
"Float'n in eerye comfort and calm
"Ryde'n 'pon massyve sea waves.
"Yea I do fear thee ayn thy watery world
"For it grasps ayn it pulls me deep down--
Fear ne, fear ne, myne ocean guest!
By my oath I shan't let thee drown.
Alone, we're alone, all all alone
All alone 'pon a sea wythout waves;
How I wish't that the Chryst'd take pity on us
And send sooth'n sea swells our way.
They many a men are boastful ayn proud
And now ever asham'd they do lye!
And ayl ever respect the sea's natural way
As it lyve's on--and thus so do I.
I sat ayn look'd 'pon the inky black Sea,
Strayn'n myne poor eyes gains't the nyght;
I look'd deep down to the watery black depths
For 'tis there that all true power lyes.
I gaz'd to yon Heavens, I try'd then to pray;
But my prayers they'd ne ever been met,
I wysh't but one thing, and one thyng dyd I wish
Oh I pray'd that that one thyng I'd get.
I then clos'd my eyelyds and kept them tyght shut,
Tyll the orbs lyke deep sea pulse dyd pound;
In my mynd's eye, angry sea and bryght sky
Weygh'd heavily a cruel load on my soul,
Then I dream't of gone ryders gone down.
Cold waters dyd dryp'd off from myne brow,
There'd ne be age'n, ne slow'n for me;
I look'd out there at, and bobbed there besyde
The waves that pass'd all thro' the sea.
A local's foul curse drags kooks deep unto Hell
All except for true spyryts most hygh:
But O! Far more horryble even than that
Is the curse of the seventh wave's eye!
Seven days, seven nyghts I sat on the sea,
And when it came not I swore that I'd dye.
Then the horn'd Moon dyd ryse hygh in the sky
She travel'd where none dare'd abyde:
Softly she pull'd and the sea it rose up
And I lay on my board and I cry'd--
Her beams they abeckon'd to the wyld ocean mayn
Her fyngers lyke a God's hand wydespread;
Before me a huge shadow lay'd,
Becalm'd water all stryp'd away
Massyve swell replaced anger wyth dread.
Down 'neath the shadow of the royl'n wave
I watch'd watery tendryls snake upward:
They mov'd in tracks of pure shyn'n whyte;
The wave then rear'd up, ayn their phosphoury lyght
Gave guydance lyke a wave search'n shepherd.
As I stood deep wyth'n the sphere of the tube
I admir'd my rubber'd attyre:
Glow'n glossy green and sleek velvet black
I coyl'd and crouch'd; ayn chose my true track
And explod'd in a flash of soul fyre.
O the stoke dyd I feel! No toungue could declare:
Prydeful pleasure near gusht from my heart,
I look'd to yon lyght ayn thank'd my good stars!
For ocean lords had took pyty on me,
For thys tuberyde was my long'st by far.
Thus my prayers they came to be answer'd;
As I burs't from the barrel agayn free'd
I sped cross't the face and let my gun trace
Tracks out the back and then back to the sea.
