In The Presence Of Beasts
By Travis
Moegling
Surfing
in virgin regions of prime Pacific Northwest (PNW) territories evokes images of a more
core type of waterman, especially to most outsiders south of Oregon. You know, with all
the typical stereotypes that evolve as almost mythic folklore, in which most are actually
true. Like big hungry white sharks lurking about most beaches seeking to perpetuate
themselves as ultimate crowd control in an unfashionable and untimely manner. There's
plenty of submerged rocks lingering throughout raging rips and undertows. Huge and out of
control surf, frigid waters and fierce localism, with people willing to destruct
outsiders' cars and property for the sake of possible empty lineups in the following
weeks. Yes, in my experience of years of surfing in the utmost definition of the deep PNW,
that is the furthest most NW point of the US; all of the above are usually a constant
factor in some part of one's surfing adventures.
Growing up and learning to surf on a
remote Peninsula in Northern Washington, and then spending plenty of time traveling the
globe for surf and adventure reinforces the strong feelings and love I have for the
Northwest and being fortunate enough to be part of all this splendid beauty! The people
who surf locally as residents around the rural PNW tend to be *real* people that charge
heavy water and remain for the most part unknown, but unquestioned in terms of stoke, a
commitment to ride huge waves and the ability to not flinch when dropping into triple
overhead plus dredging surf!
The surf in my neck of the woods is
usually sought after in extremely rural areas, where serious mud and 60 degree + inclines
of hundreds of feet must be conquered before the beachfront surrenders. The threat of
injury becomes a concern that should be prepared for, as hospitals are quite a travel
away! A bite from a shark at these off-the-wall spots means big trouble and is more than
likely fatal. A friend once snapped his leg out here when he dropped in on a double
overhead wave and fell out in the flat. When the lip came down, it hit his leg, breaking
it like a twig. It took several hours and 15 Coast Guardsmen to pack him outta there.
Heading out with a friend to share some
surf in an area that is quite unpredictable and known to be very sharky for the west
coast, we knew we were taking a chance at surfing in the vicinity of some large sharks.
Cape Avala offers a variety of incredible scenery that hasn't been disturbed by man ever.
To traverse into this coast, like much of the other in the PNW is to engage with a very
mystical environment. As the two of us made our way out of the dense forest and emerged
towards the beach, lugging our gear in packs with boardbags slung over our shoulders, the
fog became much thicker. We could feel the rumble of the surf in the distance and I became
quite aware, without saying a word that there were some serious waves today. After a
substantial hike we were not about to be turned back because of visibility problems. For a
few surfers in the PNW, the spirit of OPC runs as thick as blood! Reaching the beach we
headed North along the surf-pounded empty beach to a spot that has always worked well for
us. I have always had a great respect for the lurkers of the deep, but try to remain
unconcerned of their presence. Today though, sharks were a constant and visual thought on
my mind as we continued along the beach. Shock and disbelief struck me hard as I walked up
on a sea lion that was bit right in half! I thought I was going to shit myself and my mind
raced with excitement. I stood there motionless staring down at this dead mess at my feet
and then to my friend and back down and then almost simultaneously we both turned and
stared out into the cloud that was developed over the body of the ocean...silent except
for the thunderous sound from the racing of both our hearts.
"Fuck this shit" my friend
shouts out. "There's good waves out there and I'm surfing with or without you."
No sooner spoke, we continued up the beach until we reached the hollowed-out stump that
landmarked "our" spot. The only visual of any wave action we could see was the
last reform of white water that surged out of the fog with fury and rolled up around the
driftwood timbers scattered about in the high tide. You could literally only see 20 to 30
yards at best. As we stood there over the duraflame putting on our suits, I muttered
something about how that sea lion must have just recently been washed ashore with the high
tide and considering how bloody it was it's probably a fresh kill. My friend responded
with a cool "right on".
So there we had it, we were making an
adventure out of an adventure. Paddling out when the fog is so dense that you can't see
the waves, how big they are, or where they are is an experience unlike any other! All your
senses become very acute and you feel aware of everything in your immediate surroundings.
We paddled out together and stayed positively closer then we normally would have until we
reached the inside shore break that caught us by surprise and hit us like a runaway
freight train! There was about five more that we had to deal with and they all seemed to
be getting bigger. I just kept at it and eventually was past the inside and somewhere in
the middle of nowhere. No local boys at Makaha in Hawaii could vibe me harder then I was
vibin' myself this day!
As I continued to paddle out I yelled for
Taj, betting he went in. Right after I screamed for him I heard this violent thrashing to
my right, but couldn't see anything and then I heard my friend but he was to my far left.
I knew I was in a paranoid state of mind and ignored my premonitions. A couple minutes
later and a few more shouts we were regrouped and made it outside or there about. We were
in the lineup but every once in awhile there was a thunder from far out and then emerged a
massive wall of whitewater to duck under. It was tense. The waves were really good and
didn't lack in size either. But it wasn't as fun as it should have been. Catch a wave and
you've gone a long ways inside. And your definitely thinking more about the long paddle
alone you'll be making instead of hitting the lip. I was heading back outside after
catching a bomb about 3' overhead when I saw a wave peeling towards me, all of a sudden
this black mass comes flying along the face out of the fog...it was Taj and when he saw me
he flew off the back of the wave happy to not paddle back solo. Worse then the paddle
though was being left alone out there to wait for a wave.
It was when this was happening that it
occurred. As I sat there on my 7'0 I heard a terrible ripping along the water and an eerie
shrieking sound almost like a loon crying...to my left this time. As I jerked my line of
sight in that direction I saw a seal swimming faster then I have ever seen one go before!
It was literally flying on top of the water! Worse even, directly behind the seal maybe 15
yards or so was a lone fin cutting the water and even worse heading my direction, straight
towards me. I sat there frozen in disbelief watching as this big white come in evil
pursuit. I didn't twitch, trying to look part of the scene. In an effort to ditch the
shark the seal swam right under me. I almost started to cry. I just thought..."Well
that son of a bitch"
Travis Moegling, [email protected]
360-565-0172 920
W. 6th St Port Angeles
WA 98363