September for Southern California surfers can mean high-pressure weather systems making for hot temperatures and the possibility for larger waves. This summer had been pretty wave less. I did spend some time in Florida and returning in September I was greeted with a surprise.
A storm southwest of New Zealand, nearly 6,000 miles away, produced a swell incredibly wide, hitting big from Baja California to Santa Barbara.
It built steadily and by the time it peaked on Sept. 25, 1975, surfers were calling it one of the best summer swells ever, one so epic that Surfer magazine devoted 14 pages to it and gave it a name: the Monster From New Zealand.
I cling to the memory because I had a piece of it. If you were a California surfer in 1975 and you rode the Monster from New Zealand, you road one of the largest storm waves to ever hit California.
"It was dangerous! A memory I will never forget."
I had a friend whose brother Arthur had a custom green pen stripped van conversion. The neighbor guys would pile in and we all often went surfing. We called the surf report and it said big waves.
We had been having some great waves and the day earlier I had the best surf day of my life at the Seal Beach pier catching overhead waves with ease riding a 9’2” pin-tail. I was in the best shape and never have been in better since. That day I was catching one wave after another and my confidence level was peaking. I was invincible until the next day came.
September 25th, 1975 On the drive down Pacific Coast Highway, we caught sight of the Los Alamitos Bay breaking inside the channel and that never breaks. It was then the houses and the beach block your vision of the waves and the van erupted in chatter from guys trying to find courage by challenging one another as we used name calling to help each other to be brave. You see there had to be something else to challenge you because the waves size was enough of a reason not to paddle out.
In 1975 Bolsa Chica beach had no paved parking. You parked on side of the road and just before you approach the Huntington Cliffs the road rises, and it was then you can see the surf and shouts of “NO WAY!” dominated the air. The obscene waves were the largest we had ever seen. There was no real shape to them, they were massive walls that would pitch and fall with big hollow sections that quickly collapsed. So, the idea was to paddle out and wait for a little swell shift and find one to at last ride down the face and ride the white-water in. That would later turn into the worst idea ever.
About 6 of us headed out and it was grueling. I remember thinking there was no way to get out and I kept turtle rolling through this huge whitewash walls. A turtle roll forces the wave over you and most of the time you pop out the back side. It became such a natural movement and time consuming I forgot where I was and just kept battling.
After a half hour of getting pounded I found myself making it past the break and I was out. Then fear of reality started to set in. I was the only one to make it out and I was the only surfer in the water. Everyone else gave up and it was then I realized there was only 1 way in.
These waves were so big I was being lifted up 3 stories high and as the swell quickly passed, I would drop 3 stories. The wind would blow the wave spray back over the top of the wave and it would rain down on me. It was terrifying.
These waves were at 13 second intervals. The swells between 20-25 ft. The faces between 25 to 30 ft. I would paddle for a wave, but they were traveling so fast there was no way for me to drop in. I would look over the falls and see these big cavernous faces inflating from the wind. Though I was on a 9’ 2” pintail it was way too small for this surf.
I was out of my league. I was in the wrong place.
After about 20 halfhearted attempts I realized I was just going to be brave and go for it, so I did. Paddling as hard as I could I made the wave, yet as I popped to my feet the board just drifted down the wave and I was in a free fall. I remember looking at the size of the face and thinking I have a chance if I can land on the board. But as my feet came down on the back of the board the board did a quick fishtail and I went in. It was like like this guy in this photo except the wave was larger and the nose of my board did not lift up.
The first thing you should do when you eat it in a big wave is to relax and flow with it. I did and I felt a jerk on my leash, it broke, and I was now untethered. I was floating in a soup of white water.
In white water you are surrounded by oxygen bubbles and it causes you to stay in 1 place, so you have to swim hard and as I took about four strokes my head hit the sand. I was swimming the wrong way.
What I also did not consider was how deep I was. I was way out to the edge of the sandbar and the depth was an easy 25ft , so I pushed off the bottom, elongated my body stretching one hand out to guide me straight and I kept waiting for the surface, but it was not coming and I was out of air. It was here I realized I was going to die.
Well I am no dummy, and I know I am a sinner, so I began to ask God for forgiveness through Christ's sacrifice and all I could do was let my air out, I was suffocating.
The carbon dioxide bubbled up the front of my face and as I gave up, my finger broke the surface of the water. I pushed myself up and took a breath only to see the face of another big nasty wave and it broke right on me forcing me back down to the bottom where I would go through the exact same scenario again.
This time when I came up, I was juiced beyond belief. I was being dragged sideways down the beach by a huge side current and no one on the beach wanted to enter the water to help. I called out and they starred. It took me a good half hour to make it to the beach and I did the dead man drop onto the sand. This would be the last time I would surf with these guys. Before they were friends, yet my idea of friendship was loyalty. You can run me down and say anything about me without breaking loyalty, but to not provide rescue is not a friend.
I still think back to that day and can say beyond a shadow of a doubt I braved the Monster from New Zealand. It leaves me numb. Would I do it again? Could I have done it better? Could I have made that wave? It is then I must concede, we were at the wrong surf break on the perfect day. From what Surfer magazine said, there were beaches which took the swell well and then there was Bolsa Chica where it was huge walls of hallow closeouts right and left.
Such was life at 16 in Southern California 1975
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