Yes friends,

Santa Cruizin with Foondoggy

Yes friends, I had the dubious distinction of being a left coast host to the infamous Foondoggy, that legendary rightside yarnspinner and bellyrider.

I thought it might be interesting to provide my perspective on the Fooncruise in Santa Cruz.

In the days leading up to our meeting I tried desperately to convince the Foon that it was in his best interest to borrow my 9'2" Takayama and get some real standup riding. Nothing doing. He evoked the Mrs. Foon travel standards. These are some obscure official federal regulations which state that if anyone intentionally puts the Foon at risk or forces him off of his spongeness, it can mean being sent to an obscure federal stockade in Nebraska with no chance of release. Unwilling to risk it, I reluctantly offered Foon my son's backup Morey.

Since Foondoggy was cruising down the coast highway into Santa Cruz, we agreed to meet at the Pearson Arrow shop at the north end of town. After a brief greeting the Foon threw his gear into the Wavemobile and we were off. It's not difficult to imagine how easily the conversation flowed with two storytellers hooking up. Having known each other in alt.surfing for several years now, it was like welcoming an old friend, and the vibe was cool and comfortable.

Unfortunately, by the time we could hook up the tide was coming up pretty quickly and the wind was already picking up, so a good morning session at one of the premier spots was out of the question. But it was rightiously sunny and warm, the sky was a summer shade of blue, and two oldtime surfers were stoked to be cruisin the scene.

At the risk of losing some tide, I decided to cruise all of Santa Cruz, giving Foondoggy the benefit of my many years of experience and "deep" local knowledge. We went down Westcliff Drive stopping at Steamer Lane to discuss the setup. The surf there was small (2-3 feet faces) and already mushy. Cowells was packed with surf camp kids trying to get the last of the small waves at that break. We cruised over to the Rivermouth just to check the setup. Then we cruised out onto Eastcliff and checked 26th Avenue, Pleasure Point, 38th, and finally the Hook.

There were occasional sets coming through at waist to chest high, the cliffs and kelp were helping reduce the wind, and these spots can still be fun on a relatively high tide. The crowd factor was pretty high for early on a Thursday afternoon, but it seemed mellow. If we were going to surf, it was now or never. I made the call. Sharks Cove. Foon heard the name and almost invoked the Mrs. Foon Prime Safety Directive, so I reassured him that even though we were technically still in the Red Triangle, there are "never" any sharks at this spot. We suited up and headed down the stairs to the beach and the cliff trail.

It was clear we were a little nervous. Surf talk is one thing, getting into the surf and performing is something else. Mrs. Foon forgive me, I was still looking for a way to affirm my status on the beach and impress the Foon. As we arrived at the foot of the stairs we met a couple of familiar faces heading up the stairs. Here was a chance to establish my localness. I greeted them and asked how the surf was, a typical and generic acknowledgement. They smiled and responded, by saying it was fun and that "You will like it." As I nimbly picked my way across the rocks at the foot of the cliff, I was thinking how perfect that exchange was. Here I was affirmed as a recognized local surfer in front of the Foon. It was at that very moment I heard the sickening !THUD! behind me. As I turned, Foondoggy was sprawled on the granite rocks and boulders in front of some of the local crew. Once again I had pulled defeat from the jaws of victory. To his credit Foondoggy quickly picked himself up and brushed off the rocks imbedded in his skin. His leg was bleeding profusely. The freckles covering his leg looked like fish scales. He pressed the flesh together wiped away the blood, refused my offer to take him to emergency (I swear I offered), smiled, and suggested we get busy surfing. What a hero!

We picked our way along the path worn into the base of the cliff from decades of surfers, and finished suiting up while we discussed the break. "Well…I've never seen a shark here!"

As we paddled out the crowd indeed proved to be mellow. The surf was very fun, even if the tide was still high and the wind was blowing down the waves a bit. We had an absolutely fun session, taking turns on waves, telling stories, and jockeying around. This was a spot I knew. Foon was doing pretty well too. The final test came when a head-high set came through which was swinging just a little too south for our position. I made the moves as though I was going, stopped and urged the Foon to catch it. He spun around and began paddling into the wave as the wall stood up and the inside reefs began to suck out. He was going for it. He was going to get pounded!…. Just as the wave closed out across the cove, the Foon popped out the back with a knowing grin on his face. He knew I was setting him up, he had handled the situation, and his laughter let me know it. We were friends. We'd shifted from courtesy to comraderie.

After the session we enjoyed a sumptuous lunch at the Crow's Nest near the Santa Cruz Yacht Harbor, talked story, admired Wingnut's ESII trophy board, and finally parted company in time for me to teach my summer night class.

I'm looking forward to your next visit Foondoggy.

Da hulk, RSO

Return to da hulk's homepage.

Last updated on 10/12/01.

Maintained by da hulk.