======== Newsgroups: alt.surfing Subject: Dawn Patrol From: njtravis@cse.lbl.gov (Nancy Jean Travis) Date: 28 Oct 1996 02:22:56 GMT Dawn Patrol, Northern Cali Two centuries ago, the Ohlone tribes woke daily to shout the sun awake, standing naked on the cliffs and howling as it dawned over the reefs. The sun responded without fail to the racket by drawing a brilliant path parallel to the sheltered reefs of Monterey Bay; and the indians believed it listened to them. The reefs are much the same and the ritual just as keen today. Young silver seal pups still float on their backs cracking shellfish greedily amid the kelp. Wood rats, quail and doves still lodge below the rocky ledges. And before even a hint of light breaks through the morning darkness, the California natives still line up to howl the dawn awake. The ocean keeps time and place secure in a sealed bottle. Eastcliff Drive has lost one of two sketchy lanes to erosion and been reduced to a single lane drive. A double space postage stamp carlot is all that's left of parking overlooking the reefs below the cliff and the morning crew jockey for those parking spaces as early as 4am. The slackers cruise as slowly as possible along the cliff, trying to gauge the waves in the blackness, but the surf check is mere ritual; nearly everybody who shows up before 5am is going out--not so much to surf as to begin the day. Before the dawn, the breaking waves are mere illusions, a leftward peeling bolt of whiteness, impossible to tell the size or quality, impossible sometimes even to see if the fog hangs low. Then the crew listen for the crash to judge its size, timing the crescendo on the rocks. Later in the day, the pace will change with informed judgement, but in the predawn blackness there is a mystery, adrenaline and slight horror of not knowing what you're getting into. The sound of wax grating on cold fibreglass inflames the slackers still struggling into chilly wetsuits with a fear that they'll be left behind. Urgency pervades the darkness, and the primitive requirement to be out there doesn't subside until the first quick strokes into the dark ocean. Then the clock stops ticking with the sudden silence, the silvery surface, the gull that wings down to stare, the streams of kelp tugging your arm, the pup that raises its head to wink, the rise and fall of swell over the reef. You cannot help but yip, yap, yow and howl at the impending dawn. The light has not yet come, but from the ocean you can see things not visible from the cliffs. Before the world turns pink and orange, it pulls deep silvers and greys from the blackness. Black silhouettes around you disappear on swells and joyous howls reverberate from the cliffs. The waves are always better before the dawn. Every wave caught before the sunrise counts double... or maybe tenfold. As the sun rises, monotone waves suddenly take on depth, brilliance and color. You can see the cars cruising the cliff without a place to park and feel the panic of the new shadows on the cliffs who cannot make it out in time for dawn. Yaaaaoooo! The sun pops up above the high coastal mountains and dawn is spent before it begins. Things have not changed much at dawn patrol in the last 200 years. By the time the 8am crew arrives, dawn has been sealed in a bottle, the sun is safely in the sky and serious thought turns towards breakfast. fang ======== Newsgroups: alt.surfing Subject: Re: Dawn Patrol From: Foondoggy Date: Mon, 28 Oct 1996 11:20:37 -0500 From a Right Coast perspective, it is almost alien to not be looking toward the ocean's blackness for the first red tendrils of dawn. Reading this piece reminded me of my few years on the Left Coast where surfers must wait for the Sun to clear the various mountain ranges for warmth. Out here the wide expanse of ocean horizon is our only clock face at dawn and the almost perceptable changes from red to rose to orange to pink to peach to yellow, mark the minutes like a colorful sweep hand, until we start hearing the straps snapping and wax grating. I miss the rich textures of the flora, fauna, geology and topography of the Left Coast breaks. But sitting on my deck facing the empty ocean in the East, nursing a hot cup of coffee before dawn patrol, is no less as satisfying an experience as I have ever had on the Left. Though there were no waves when I read this, I was inspired to go off and seek out a serious breakfast. Thanks fang, it's no wonder your writing can be found archived on various webpages. -Foondoggy :^)