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The Pink House

I said I couldn't, but by the time I hung up I realized I could sublet my room in Allston, quit my job, "take a break", and accept a friends invitation to move out to Santa Cruz. The clincher was a house the hippies had painted pink. It's an old single-story Victorian on West Cliff Drive by the trestle bridge overlooking the Municipal Wharf, Boardwalk, skate park, and Monterey Bay. Every morning I'd look out the bay windows to appreciate the view, and see exactly what the wind was doing (even a ¼ mile out). If it was breaking at the wharf, it was big.


Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz sculpture by Thomas Marsh with pedestal by Brian Curtis


West Cliff is one of the world's pumpin'est streets; spreads with sprawling views of the Pacific with rock reefs below. First on the left is Cowell's- an inside point for longboarding that peels endlessly to the beach. The outer point is Steamer Lane- consistent, crowded, world class on any day, best up to 7'. In the afternoon, the Lane might be the only place that wasn't blown out as the cliffs offer much needed protection from the frequent afternoon on-shores.


Steamer Lane
Steamer Lane



Steamer Lane
Steamer Lane


Moving on, Mitchell's Cove only turns on during the bigger NW winter swells. I was new in town the first time I paddled out at Mitchell's. I remember nuttn'up and going for a set wave. I had no business being out.

Stockton is the most localized, bro-ed out, perfect wave on the Central Coast. On the cliffs near Stockton Ave. dudes named Skindog, Barney, and Boulder tell tranny-maggots like me to keep driving.

Last up is Natural Bridges- it barrels, has multiple peaks, but is popular with spongers. 5 breaks in just 3 winding miles along Westside Santa Cruz.

I should mention that my room in the pink house was only $225 a month. Surfline has a map of town.

Tranny Heaven

I had a pretty decent routine: check the Lane, if it was too crowded- drive north. Aside from the abundance of right points and beach-break, Santa Cruz's greatest asset is that all the land (aside from state parks) north of town is zoned agricultural, and in California everyone is guaranteed access to the ocean meaninf the farmers allow us passage. It reminds me of the National Seashore on Cape Cod, except for the free parking, and abundance of waves at a variety of breaks. There's also a shitload of people who surf them. I was just another "tranny" to the locals I inevitably pissed off. Anyone who wasn't a "Valley" or didn't go to East or Westside High was a: "Tranny" short for transplant.

They have a serious problem in Santa Cruz with surfers moving up from Southern California. Apparently, being from the east coast wasn't as bad as being from the valley. Being a Tranny meant that any day it was small or blown-out, or just wind-swell was a good day for me. Back home it's flat and freezing. I was totally stoked just to be in the water. It took some time, but after a few confrontations I learned it was best to respect, and not hassle the locals. The ideal place to do that was 3-mile. While being the closest break to town (3 miles away) it was often the least crowded because; it was usually a burger of a wave, 4-mile was much better, there were fifteen breaks after that.

We also frequented an offshore break at Greyhound Rock. It was one of the few lefts in the area but the sharks did a good job with crowd control. The take off spot is in the deep water where the wave hits the submerged rock. How I loathed being the only one to miss a set wave at Greyhound.


At Greyhound Rock 3/02
At Greyhound Rock 3/02


We were walking through the lot once when a fisherman tells us he'd recently hooked a Great White just offshore and that we were nuts for surfing there.


I'd managed to stay afloat working part-time so I could surf everyday. My friend dubbed me 'surf-monk' for my healthy-dedicated-minimalist existence. By April I'd got my cutback down the lips, and traded up the funboard for a custom 6'6. Spring and summer meant South swells. The overhead winter waves were awesome, but the gift of the left coast is for-sure the summer swells. These long-period pulses travel absurd distances, generated by powerful storms near Australia and Antarctica. The buoy reads 7' at 20 seconds. It's not as big or consistent as a good NW but the beauty of the south swell is- there's waves in summer; California has waves all summer long! Good waves! head-high for days at a time- frequently.

A long flat spell here is usually two weeks, and during that time there is probably wind swell and even random set waves to be had. The Eastern Atlantic has got to be one of the worst places on earth to be a surfer, great breaks but no waves - albeit what, 25 days a year! It's the plague.

Highway 1

Fall is the best season for waves on the Central Coast; the weather is perfect, the water is as warm as it gets, and the big NW swells begin to show their faces. In September the last 2 from our Cape crew moved out bringing the tranny posse to 5 strong. In October we made our first trip South in search of the un-crowded, overhead perfection of Big Sur.


Andrew Molera
Andrew Molera, Big Sur


100 winding miles down the 1 is a multi-peaked spot called Willow Creek.


Clem Smith - Goofy Foot at Willow Creek 10/00
Clem Smith - Goofy Foot at Willow Creek 10/00


My friend's roommate was dating a local who inadvertently tipped us off to this diamond amongst the rocks. We doubted he'd tell us, so Clem asked her where Jake was surfing. Apparently, the elements don't come together too often (on-shores) but when they do, driving down to Big Sur feels like being able to drive to Chile for perfect, intimidating, empty waves. The first time we caught Willow Creek it was 8to10 and barreling at the take off with the low tide.


Willow Creek
Willow Creek


A courteous fellow told us the whereabouts of a nearby camping spot in a grove of Redwoods. That night we drank beer to blast the bottles and cans with a .22. It was 3' bigger the next time we drove down, and got skunked on our third trip because it was closing out at 20'. We went back to Santa Cruz and surfed 3-mile. Last spring we returned during an endless bout of onshores, so we checked a spot Surfline let me in on. The Big Sur river mouth wraps around in such a way that NW winds blow offshore. The 3 of us east coasters scored river mouth peelers during a head high SW swell with offshore NW winds at low tide. The good times and overhead surf on these trips, led us to look further South, of the border.


Scott's Creek Big Sur
Scott's Creek, North of Santa Cruz


Green Rooms

Josh the Genius had been keeping the rent down in the pink house for 8 years. When he finished his PHD and left town, the rest of us had to go. I reluctantly returned to Boston to complete my BA. Graduating at 30 warranted a trip so when I finished I drove to Cali and 4x4ed down to Baja. Much of the 1000-mile peninsula works on N and S swells, it's affordable, un-crowded, epic points- and best of all; you drive there. From Northern California it's just a day away to an authentic third-world surf adventure, but you've got a ride.
After a marathon drive from LA in relentless Santa Ana winds, Pete and I awoke our first morning in a picturesque high desert area, about 400 miles south of the border. A short drive from the '1' to the ocean brought us to our first spot- "the Notch;" a perfectly shaped right-point peeler that never really gets much overhead. When this wave is working, there are few better. On this day it was rather small and freight-training so after a forgettable morning session in which I managed to pull a pectoral muscle while paddling out, we checked a nearby point that we surmised might be good with a lower tide. Sure enough, the bigger set waves hit that ancient lava-flow and barreled across the sand covered reef. We christened this epic, nameless spot "al pastor point" after the tacos we'd eaten the night before. Tacos are the life-blood of Baja. Tacos were our life-blood down in Baja.


Playa Todos Santos
Playa Los Ceritos - Near Todos Santos



Fish Taco Stand in Villa Todos Santos, Baja 2/02
Fish Taco Stand in Villa Todos Santos, Baja 2/02


The next morning was flat so we packed up and headed to "the Wall" which we could see breaking in the distance. The surf was up when we arrived, it got a lot bigger. I didn't know how just 3 miles out it could be double overhead while being flat inside, I just appreciated; huge (rail-grabbing) cutbacks, big-fast drops, dueling the face with my best bud, a fast inside section free of close-outs, and the mellow crowd- all on a huge- but forgiving wave. Some of the fellows spend their entire winter here surfing overhead waves while most of Baja is waist-high. I figure the point sticks out so far into the ocean that it picks up every little ripple, and the drastic difference between high and low tide means that the wave must abruptly hit the boulder strewn reef and jack-up. The incoming tidal push is probably surf-able in summer. We spent a week here, I didn't want to leave but there was better weather and warmer water to the south. We had some good days and some great days, some beach-break slop, and a sweet day of overhead lefts down at Punta Canejo, but the "Wall" was definitely the highlight of our trip. I'd tell you right where it's at but I promised Ted I wouldn't.


Pete Hopple at The Wall Baja (near Rosalia)  2/02
Pete Hopple at The Wall Baja (near Rosalia) 2/02


If you have the time and 2 grand, I highly recommend making the 4-day trip to Baja someday. Eat tacos, sleep on the beach, successfully navigate armed military checkpoints (by donating your old Playboys), enjoy 90* winters, smuggle drugs (don't), survive on PB&J. Find empty barrels peeling inside and the overhead bombs rolling through the outer points. Next winter: you could spend all your money on plane tickets, or you could just split the cost of gas to Mexico. Clem's in Colorado but has made a career of finding time to surf Baja, Rook's down there right now, Justin's in Indo, Pete's in RI and I'm living vicariously in New York City. Not for long…

Extra Big Sur Pictures

East Side Big Sur
East Side, Santa Cruz


Andrew Molera
Andrew Molera, Big Sur


Sandollar Beach in Big Sur,CA 10/00
Sandollar Beach, Big Sur 10/00

Article by James Audiffred 2003. All photos by James H. Audiffred. All Rights Reserved. Printed with Permission.

I had read the article on your website about the young lady in trouble and that prompted me to write about my experience in September. I felt that her inability to get assistance when in need was definitely something that needed to be addressed. Below is my story.

I have surfed for over 35 years and the last 22 in New England. During the Fabian swell on Saturday 6th of September 2003 I arrived at my favorite east coast "big wave" surf spot to find waves in the range of 15 to 18 foot faces. It was early morning and the waves were on the rise. I took a few photos suited up in a relaxed manner, no need to hurry since the waves were not going anywhere, and headed out to catch some bombs. After an hour and a half of catching increasing bigger sets I dropped into an easily 20'+ set wave made a sweeping bottom turn and headed down the line.

This is where the fun ended and the real story began. I have surfed hurricane swells for over twenty years in town and never really had any injuries. As I rode down that wave and attempted to pull into a large barrel, the lip hit my right arm and knocked me off my board. Stretch-stretch POP. I came up from the wipe out and there was my arm floating in front of me. I'm unable to move it, broken or dislocated, were my first thoughts as I dove under set wave after set wave and finally make it to the channel. After about an hour and half of repeated attempts to make it to shore through 15' breakers in the channel, and a near helicopter rescue out of Otis Air Force Base, I placed my feet on day land.

The thankful part about this story were the valiant efforts, of initially, one young man from the cape, who paddled and swam through 4 cycles of attempting to catch a wave in only to wipeout with me and wash out about 200-300 yards offshore with the sunset like rip. Finally 3 other experienced watermen and the gentlemen mentioned earlier were able to paddle us into the impact zone and catch a wave, stabilize me and make it to shore.

The sad part is that a number of "surfers" paddled by, offered no assistance, even when asked, and proceeded to make their way out into the line up. Maybe those individuals felt out of there element, just didn't care or have the skills to assist. But I hope they never find themselves in a similar situation with a broken, dislocated shoulder, shock and hypothermia and worrying about their chances of making it to shore. We all need to remember that surfing can be dangerous and we need to look out for and assist each other in times of need because it can be a life threatening situation. If we can't do that with each other in our own neighborhood, how can we expect to have peace and caring in the world.

I have since had surgery to repair a broken greater tuberosity, this is where all the muscles of the rotator cuff attach and the dislocated shoulder was set the day of the accident. I look forward to a complete recovery and being back in the lineup in the spring and riding the waves of southern New England during hurricane season next year and wanted to send a heartfelt thanks to the "men" who assisted me on that day. comment: There has been talk about setting up a surfer-based rescue team in RI. If you'd like to read more and maybe chime in please follow this link.

Copyright © 2003 and Anonymous.

It starts in about July, constantly in my thoughts, the idea of the perfect hurricane swell. Daily checks of the tropical update, planning, dreaming. Long before the first hints of the swell hit, I start to lose my head a little. Its the only time in my life when balancing work, family and surfing become an issue. The first day of the swell, it’s clean and chest high and I think to myself how the anticipation of what is to come is almost the best part of being out there. I think how with each set, that hurricane is getting closer and the waves growing. It’s a perfect scenario; the storm track keeps it just far enough off shore to avoid damage on the coast.

I’ve been surfing for a good amount of years, I consider myself experienced, I’ve traveled a bit, frequent trips to the Outer Banks, a winter swell in Puerto Rico, a hurricane swell in Barbados. I grew up on the Jersey Shore, spent a few summers in college as a lifeguard. I feel confident in the water. I wasn’t questioning my fitness level; I’m an avid runner. I enjoy running long distances like marathons. With each passing year, I have become even more comfortable in bigger waves. Rhode Island is not exactly a big wave spot but we do get some decent size waves in the winter and during hurricanes. No problem.

Maybe I got ahead of myself, I became overconfident. The ocean is its own force; it’s somewhat unpredictable, especially in the turbulence of a storm. Its power needs to be realized. Saturday was a beautiful sunny day with light offshore winds. The waves were double maybe even triple overhead. We had a babysitter for the day; we planned to surf until we couldn’t paddle anymore! What a fantastic session it was shaping up to be. I caught some incredible bombs, the drops were exhilarating, the rides long. Some of the waves were beginning to close out but why worry; I would just need to have good wave judgment. The forecast was for the swell to get bigger as the day went on. Occasionally we needed to paddle further out. Three hours go by and I am stoked, I’m lying down on my board, resting a bit between waves. My arms are like jello. I’m joking with friends about how I’m so tired from paddling out after long rides. What a great thing, being able to have such a long session in such epic conditions. Everything was perfect.

I hadn’t seen my husband in a while. We weren’t really sticking together in the lineup since the rides were so long and frequent. I was in my own little world of bliss. I see a nice outside set coming in. I paddle into position and take off on the first wave. The peak is a little shifty and I end up on the wrong side of it. I make the drop but need to kick off the top to keep from getting worked. I jump off the back of the wave but my board gets caught. I feel a strain and “poof” the board is gone, the leash broken. I look behind me and there is a very large wall of water cresting and about to break on my head! I dive under and then up, then again and again and again. When will the set end, where is the lull. There is a rip that day. I don’t really know how strong it is, but I spend a good amount of time swimming and diving under waves trying to make my way to calmer waters, get to the shoulder. I was starting to panic. I didn’t think I could take another seemingly endless tumble underwater, I needed to rest, to breath, to not get pounded anymore. I looked for someone who could help me out. No one. After what seemed like a long time (probably wasn’t though) I see a guy on a shortboard, a stranger. I call for help. He hesitates since it would bring him into the impact zone. But he says o.k. He grabs me in a bear hold and attempts to keep me afloat. He thinks I’m drowning. Am I? I think he is more afraid than I am. He keeps saying, “oh my god!” when a wave comes. I think how this is not helping me, just making the situation more dangerous, I’ve got to get myself out of this, I think I remember telling him that we needed to get over to the channel, find a longboarder I can float with. I don’t even know what happened to him, maybe he paddled away or maybe he got caught inside? I finally saw some longboarders and called to them for help. I think my exact words were, “Will someone please help me, I don’t think I can swim anymore!” They kept waving to me to swim out of the impact zone, to swim to them, obviously they didn’t want to get caught either. If I thought I could swim to them I wouldn’t be asking for help! Anyway, I dove under a few more waves and got over to one of longboarders who helped me up on his board (another stranger) and we paddled over to a channel, there I found my husband who helped me in to shore on his board. He only knew I lost my board and at the time didn’t seem to understand what I had just gone through.

Saturday should have been one of the best surf sessions I've had in years. It was - up until that moment when my leash broke and I began to question my survival. If I didn't get caught, I probably would have taken one or two more waves and gone to lunch with my husband, relaxed and content with my perfect morning. I've heard people say, "It was probably an omen". Maybe, but I'm still going to rely more on my own abilities. I'll be more aware of what can happen on a big day. I plan to surf more often with no leash at all and to work on my swim endurance. If you can't swim in from the lineup, you have no business being out there.

Back in the 60's, before they wore leashes, people were out there in large surf. The difference then was, if you weren't able to swim in, you would drown. I have an even deeper respect for people like Greg Noll who would surf Waimea on waves twice the size of what I was on….. leashless. I was relying on my board to keep me afloat. There is something to be said for purity and getting by on what nature gives you.
As for the fate of my board, someone noticed it rocketing by and managed to grab it before it hit the rocks. When I finally did get to the beach, I saw someone bringing it out, looking for the person who used to be attached to it.

Article by Janet Sanderson. All Rights Reserved.

June first. It isn't Mother's Day and it's probably not your significant other's birthday. Discreetly tucked behind Memorial Day and placed weeks before Independence Day, the star-crossed date wouldn't get any attention at all if it weren't for one thing. June first is the official start of hurricane season, the magic date in every New England surfers' internal calendar that evokes dreams of tropical storms racing up the East Coast, leaving overhead waves in its wake.

The Eastern Surfing Association (ESA) celebrated the surfers' unofficial start to summer with the 2002 Massachusetts Open Surfing Championships. Held June 1-2 at Narragansett Town Beach in Narragansett, RI, the contest was originally scheduled for May 25 at Egypt Beach in Scituate, MA but was reluctantly moved south because of flat surf at Egypt for a second straight week.

For those surfers, including myself, who didn't realize the vibrant amatuer contest scene in New England, the Massachusetts Open might seem like some sort of misprint or delusional fantasy. However, the New England district of ESA organizes over 20 contests a year according to Lee "Gidget" (yes, Gidget) Ferrera, Association volunteer and self-proclaimed "old lady" of the ESA.

Contestants hail from throughout the region, though there is always a high concentration of Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and Connecticut surfers for contests in southern New England.

"We had smaller numbers today [approximately 40 riders] because of the last minute change in location, but it's not unusual to see well over 100 surfers turn out for summer contests," said Ferrera.

Those that did show weren't disappointed by the four to six foot swell, nor did they disappoint in their mastery of those waves. Clean rides were the order of the day. Sure, some surfers were caught inside and others were tossed off the lip and into the blue slosh, but their skills still impressed, causing furious chatter amongst the judges whenever a quality floater or cutback was performed. Even some grommets put on a clinic, teaching older competitors some humility while astounding novices, like myself, who watched slack-jawed from the beach.

"Everyone who surfs with ESA is pretty friendly, but that doesn't mean it's not very competitive. I love to compete and to fight when I'm out there surfing. The good-natured competition that these contest offer is excellent," said Ron Belanger of Connecticut, who took home top honors in the Master's Longboard Final and second in the Master's Shortboard Final.

Ripping by the Rules

While contestants compete in a wide range of categories, including those for men, women, groms, shortboarders, and longboarders, the rules for judging and awarding points stays the same.

"Contestants in finals competition are judged on their best four waves with a 12-wave limit during a 20 minute period. And any ride where a surfer takes his or her hands off the rails counts," said Ferrera, who judged several competitions.

Preliminary heats last 15 minutes and surfers are judged on their best three rides with a 10-wave limit.

Surfers must also catch their waves within the approximately 50-yard tract designated for the contest, says Ferrera. While contestants can ride waves out of bounds if they are caught within the competition area, any waves caught outside the area may bring personal nirvana but not points.

"When I grade a surfer's ride," said Lee Anderson, a judge and contestant in the MA Open, "wave choice is very important to me because a lot is dependent upon it. What kind of speed does the surfer get from the wave? Can he cutback, turn some maneuvers, and make his ride as long as possible? All this counts. Points are not awarded for trying maneuvers, but completing them."

Surfers are graded on a scale of zero to 10 for each ride, and though .1 integrals can be used in judging, no one inserts those extra numbers unless the competition is exceptionally fierce or the judges want to irk the person adding up the totals at the end of the day.

It's a Lifestyle Thing

Forget "Beach Blanket Bingo" and that obnoxious Britney Spears commercial, a local surf contest, ESA or not, is an introduction into something good. Kinda like the first time your older brother allowed you to tag along to that killer party. Except kegs aren't allowed on the beach and you're not going to wake up next to some drooling stranger with underwear on his head.

"People don't just surf in contests to improve their style, but because they want to be part of a culture," says Belanger, who's been surfing with ESA for four years. "All the pretty girls don't hurt either."

And though Belanger's remark regarding the abundance of natural beauty (in all forms) that surround a beach are quite accurate, most participants agreed that the relationships that can be formed during these contests keep people addicted.

"Every year I can't wait for regionals and maybe I'll even make it down to the Eastern Surfing Championships in Cape Hatteras this year," says Ferrera. "I've met friends up and down the East Coast through contests. They're just great people who love the beach, are willing to help you out, and want to have a good time. There is nothing 'fake' about the whole experience."

That balmy weekend at Narragansett Town Beach was no different. As blue swells doggedly greeted the sandy shore, the talk was of drink ("What? You brought a flask with you?"), the opposite sex (said as much with the eyes as with the voice), and surfing great waves ("Do you remember that time Lee Anderson rode in on his head? Man, that was great."). Nothing that was said meant much in the grand scheme of things, but the simple conversations reminded everyone that life was worth living.

Malia Rimavicus, a 15-year old surfer recently transplanted from the Caribbean island of Tortola, made the MA Open her first ESA event.

"I came out to have fun and meet new people and I haven't been disappointed," said Rimavicus.

"We've been talking like we've know each other for years," interjected Ferrera, sporting a big toothy grin.

"I've not only enjoyed the company, but competitions push me that extra step," said Rimavicus. I'm here because I want to get noticed and bring some recognition to girl surfers from the Cape."

She had little trouble making a first impression. Rimavicus won the Girl's Shortboard Final in dominating fashion and duplicated the feat in the Women's Longboard Final.

"When you're out there in competition, you can shut out the world and everything just flows away. It's only you and what you have to do," she said.

"When you're young and establish some wins in these contests you can go far. You build up your rank from there and can get some sponsors. With hard work, you could even turn semi-pro," said Belanger. "It's a great life."

Results of the 2002 Massachusetts Open Surfing Championships
Narragansett Town Beach, held on June 1-2, 2002

Menehune / Boys Final
1.Eric Anderson
2.Dan Pallotta
3.Perry Phillips

Junior Mens Final
1.Dan Hassett
2.Kevin Tanner
3.Greg Phillips
4.Devlin Hart

Mens Final
1.Eric Spangler
2.Jamie Risser
3.Dan Ware

Masters Final
1.Curtis Niles
2.Ron Belanger
3.Jim Chabot

Senior / Grandmasters Final
1.Peter Pan
2.Lee Anderson
3.Mark Dragone

Girls Final
1.Malia Rimavicus
2.Erica Ferrera

Womens Final
1.Lee Ferrera
2.Kim Thibodeau

Junior Longboard Final
1.Kevin Tanner
2.Dan Hassett
3.Eric Anderson

Mens Longboard Final
1.Dan Ware
2.Jamie Risser

Masters Longboard Final
1.Ron Belanger
2.Curtis Niles
3.Jim Chabot

Senior Longboard Final
1.Peter Pan
2.Lee Anderson
3.Mark Dragone

Womens Longboard Final
1.Malia Rimavicus
2.Kim Thibodeau
3.Jen Chabot
4.Erica Ferrera
5.Lee Ferrera

Womens Bodyboard Final
1.Malia Rimavicus
2.Erica Ferrera
3.Jen Chabot

Mens Bodyboard Final
1.Mario Frade
2.Ron Belanger
3.Peter Pan

1.Gansett Juice
3.Pump House

Look for ESA and other surf contests throughout the year. While some are by invitation only, many are open for anyone to join. Check out,, or your local surf shop for more details.

Contact Details


New England

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Phone Number

508-834-SURF (7873)

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