Gazebos is a surf spot in Santa Cruz that breaks only a few times a year. The waves are notÊ so much tubular as they are dramatically flaring, like the bell of a trumpet. It's also aÊ spot that requires some level of commitment since the waves jack high and concave on theÊ low tide and sharp reef, throwing the unwary surfer out, then down, to be driven deep byÊ the thick falling lip. Since Gazebos breaks sporadically, each session is a time forÊ relearning the tricks of the place. But the rewards are certainly worth it as the rightsÊ are taller than a two-story house, faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than aÊ locomotive, and extremely hollow.

Wednesday, March 24, 2004 the plan unfolded: substantial WNW swell building quickly throughÊ the day, low tide predicted for dawn Thursday, sun rising early to support the paddle toÊ the lineup. Let's surf Gazebos! What could go wrong?

Well, how about no waves breaking on the reef? Wasn't alone standing there at 5AM peeringÊ through the brightening gloom, searching for rideable waves. Several other erstwhile dawnÊ patrollers obviously had the same idea; we were all disappointed. As each jumped into theirÊ respective surfmobiles to abandon the scene, plan B emerged: back to the Playground!

Soon thereafter dawn was breaking. DogMan was fully rubberized and sprinting along theÊ trail from highway to cliff; with each stride the crash and roar of the ocean increased.Ê Through the holes in the overcast, early morning light illuminated infrequent setsÊ approaching double overhead. The timing allowed big gaps between sets; the paddle from theÊ cove wasn't too dangerous.

Sat way outside near the edge of the reef, trying to get the place calibrated. Didn't waitÊ long! Played hide and seek a bit with the peaks before lining correctly for the first rideÊ of the day. Wow! It was a steep cascading drop of 10 feet, then a long long fade back toÊ the left while the next section took its time to stand up and be counted. Next it requiredÊ a cut to the right and a climb to the lip for the second drop to occur. With speed toÊ spare, the following maneuver was a race down the line and along the middle of the face soÊ as to get position on the soon-to-fall wall of water. By this time, riding inside the coveÊ and approaching the Death Rock, the board began to hop and squirrel over and around theÊ wedgey backwash and sidewash that scored the wave. Knees bent into shock absorbers; rightÊ hand rubbed the water for added balance and control. Then it was over; time to paddle backÊ to the tip of the reef.

For the next hour the Playground played serious with the DogMan. Several waves got theÊ better of the surfer, burying and dragging board and body inside. But five more wonderÊ walls yielded to the man surfing solo. Gushing adrenalin with each wave ridden, DogMan wentÊ back for more. Plan B was working to perfection; too bad the call of the job couldn't beÊ ignored. But six of these mackers in an hour certainly comprise a session to remember.

It wasn't meant for DogMan alone; others yearn to dance with waves. As three members of theÊ cult of the fiberglass spear descended the crumbly cliff to the edge of the water, DogManÊ caught the shoreboat and scrambled upward to the trail. There was a pause of severalÊ minutes to snap some stills of the trio of hungry wave warriors. Alas! In the time allottedÊ none of the three caught and rode any of the plentiful water walls. So this column only hasÊ empty waves, lineup overviews, and mood pix to illustrate and document the day of theÊ double O at the Playground.

It's Spring now, and soon enough the north Pacific will settle into slumber, hibernatingÊ for the long warm season to come. This may be the last chance for wintery waves in SantaÊ Cruz for many months. Though the Playground also breaks with southern hemi swell, it shinesÊ brightest with NW waves. The stoke, memories and pictures from Thursday's session may wellÊ be all there is until next autumn. It will have to do.

CU Out There,

DogMan