Yolo Banks

Summertime. The livin' is easy but finding waves ain't. In order to make it even harder, we hike six miles to a little cove that gets locked in at high tide. Little to no beta on the spot and variable surf forecast leading up to the hike, we figure we'll go for and see what we get. Yolo.

New spots become even more difficult to dial in with the pea soup.

KB, always a man of color.

This fella is hanging on, but some of his friends are disintegrating.

The rig, ghost ride the whip.

The bomb seaweed.

Rob and his stead.

All kooks to the peak!

Camp, felt like the lost boys up on the bluff.

Noodles, dogs, and chili. Grill came with the kitchen.

Scary story time.

snow surf

There's something so damn novel about surfing in the snow. Really though, the water temperature is the same as it always is. Cold. So regardless of what happens to be lying on the ground, your toes are still going to turn into cold pickles. Just hope the wind doesn't pick up. Happy holidays.

foam and glass

winter surf

Surfing Washington in the winter involves many things. Long drives on the 101, checking out big trees, and plenty of ding repair. After consuming a certain amount of glassy waves and ridiculous scenery with your closest friends, the days begin to blur together like forgetting to focus a frame with a rangefinder. It's as good a reason as any to shoot a few photos.

Unknown cover-up at Hobuck Beach.

A good place to look for a wave.

Rock baseball, waiting for the push, Rialto Beach.

Big Cedar.

A Hemel dinger.

There is low wind and there is no wind.

Getting a grip for the hike.

Hello, Canada.

Get on it.

Port Angeles.

Hangin' with the boys.

A good reason to stay.

sunset sessions

The Oregon coast is many different things to many different people. For us, it's the sport of surfing. Camping comes with the territory, cold misty mornings, spot checks along 101, failed dawn patrols. It's easy to get antsy, spend too much time in the car, just to get skunked at every spot. If the trip is long enough, good conditions are bound to roll through. Make sure you're in the water when they do, can't catch waves from the beach. At the end of the day it's always enjoyable to be on the coast, wearing your best cheeser, and soaking in the sunset.

Wright's for Camping, a nice little place in Cannon Beach.

Highway 101.

Waiting for coffee to brew before the hike.

Cape Lookout. Big sets were double overhead and a half. No one paddled out.

Concrete surfing when the waves go flat. Smooth, Oregon transitions.

Dry line at camp.

Locals only.

Ecola State Park.

Hemel fish.

Happy campers. Say cheese.

Cape Kiwanda. Big wave sunset.

sandwich

Sometimes the coast is warm. Most times it's not. Sometimes a ham sandwich tastes mighty fine.

Anthony, chowing down, February in Washington.

Panama - Santa Catalina

As Washingtonians, we typically surf cold, fickle, and therefore uncrowded waves. We spend quite a bit more time driving to and dreaming about surf than actually surfing. When Rob, Max, Will, Anthony, and I began planning a trip to the tropics our surf related dreams became omnipresent. After extensive research by our chief surf forecaster, Rob, we settled on Santa Catalina, Panama. We locked down an affordable vacation house and opted for renting a car in order that we waste no time getting from the airport to the waves.

Despite bribing the cops after Max was pulled over while making an illegal U-turn and realizing he left his license in Seattle, we made it to the coast with relative ease. The caretaker of the house, Richard, grew up surfing the Outer Banks and Florida. He now resides in Santa Catalina with his Panamanian wife and daughters. Richard gave us the rundown on the main wave in Catalina, La Punta, a right-handed reef break only surfable a few hours before and after high-tide. It took some getting used to surfing in a crowded lineup, at one point I ended up paddling for a wave shoulder to shoulder with two vacationing Puerto Ricans. At low-tide Richard took us to a beach break called Punta Brava, ten minutes from town by boat. Punta Brava is a rocky cove with an outer sandbar that makes the waves break, accessible without a boat if you want to brave a sketchy entry over the rocks and paddle through a critical key-hole in the reef. One day Rob, Max, and Will hiked to a wave called Punta Roca, a heavier left-handed reef break.

Between the different waves at our disposal we all got some of the best rides of our life. I finally learned how to do a proper duck dive, Rob said his surf game was back to "where it was when I was in Durban last summer," and we all got to hear Anthony war-whooping as he disappeared down the face of a gem at Punta Brava. As the boys were flying back to Seattle my bus plodded towards Bocas del Toro for a week of solo travel, we were all scheming our return to Santa Catalina.

The little Kia got the job done. 

It can be a challenge dodging all the stray dogs on the road. This one was friendly until I pulled out my camera.

Rob buying some fresh produce for dinner.

Standard non-surfing activities: chilling and cooking.

Casa Verde.

Checking the surf at La Punta.

La Punta.

Board shorts, rash guards, and the quiver.

Launching the boat for an early morning trip to Punta Brava.

Richard. Post surf stoke.

Gateway to the surf.

Day break glass at La Punta.