Early January 2005. Stormy ocean, too much rain, not nearly enough swell. Frustrating for wave riders, includingÊ DogMan. Pitter patter on the roof, flickering power, fire in the stove, dark ominous skies. All lead to a certainÊ philosphic reflection; hey why not? Can't go surfing!

So the calendar rolls from 2004 to 2005, the holiday trees and lights disappear, and even "First Night" is over. Seems like the end of something doesn't it?

And yet the new calendar only reveals the first of twelve pages, the winter solstice is past so the sun gets out of bed a touch earlier each morning, and spring can't be too far in the future. Seems like the beginning of somethingÊ too.

But consider this: Swells, storms, oceans, waves and therefore surfers know of no such boundaries, no such divisions, no such precess and recess. Tides ebb only to flood again. Waves that break at 1159PM December 31st willÊ surely break at 1201AM January 1st.

Going further, waves that break just north of Santa Cruz County in San Mateo County, will also break just south of that arbitray man-invented line. Swell that pounds the shores just south of Santa Cruz County in Monterey County can't help but beat the beaches to the north of that division.

And just how does this relate to the pictures in this DogMan column? Glad you asked. Though Santa Cruz is the home of many awesome and some famous right point breaks, there are also many beach breaks to enjoy. These less famous breaks are spread throughout the county, literally from county line to county line and many points in between.

To celebrate and illuminate such surfing, the pix in this column are all beach breakers. They were taken in late December, before the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end. They were taken in Santa Cruz County, where the sand is plentiful, and the rocky points that many call home are just a rumour. As with all beach breaks, the peaks are too numerous to count, the rides can be short, steep, powerful and hollow.

Though they may never be compared to OB or HB, the beach breaks of Santa Cruz are the haunt of many tubular waves that bless many excellent (and some not so excellent) surfers across many seasons. Indeed as the seasons unfold fromÊ one to the next the idea of beginning and end appears to be only a human folly. Nature knows no such construct, instead offering an infinite spiral of cycles within cycles within cycles.

Troughs and crests comprise waves. Wave after wave we call sets. Collections of sets become swells. Swells and lulls alternate, growing and ebbing like ying annd yang as summer flows to winter and back again. Grains of sand migrate from one place to another, honoring no county line. And sometime later the same sand returns again.

Is this too much cushy prose for one column? Are the words mismatched to the pics? For many of us the pursuit of waves to ride takes us on a journey of spirals and cycles. We chase the ellusive surf from one border to another, across lines, timezones, oceans. It's understandable that such a quest engenders reflection when the weather is blustery and the surfer is sheltered in the warm confines of the home and hearth.

And if all this leaves you unimpressed, then merely gaze at the pics and wait for your next chance to ride the surf again.

CU Out There,

DogMan