Orange County

Seal Beach Pier takes what is big and walled up at Huntington Pier and grooms it into nice, snappy little peaks. The most consistent spot to surf is on the north side of the pier, where you get all kinds of surfers ranging from the clueless to the talented. North Side of the Pier is also a great place to learn how to surf with good surf school instruction and small, gentle waves on most days. South side only works on winter swells from the WNW -- the bigger the better -- and is a hot spot for bodyboarding and skimboarding with steep bowly shorebreak. On a large WNW swell North Side becomes a very demanding wave with steep "pier bowls" that are reflected off the Anaheim Jetty to the south and sweep through the pier. South Side begins to imitate Hawaii with powerful thick bowls that break countless boards each day it pumps. At the north end of the beach is Ray Bay at the mouth of the San Gabriel River, where you can sometimes find long fun rights on big south swells -- but may actually be best on huge west swells. The sandbars in the San Gabriel river are currently very good with steep hollow sections beginning at the end of the jetty -- especially on bigger swells and lower tides. Most of the time the River is best for a longboard and beginners. Warm water from the Edison Plant inland keeps the water temps in the high 70's, which also attracts thousands of stingrays so stay off the bottom or do the shuffle. Seal Beach is in a wind tunnel due to its location below the Palos Verdes Peninsula, and the place is a favorite for kite boarders on windy days. Seal Beach may also be one of the cleanest spots around when the wind is strong out of the northwest due to the south facing coastline and protection from the jetties.

The Wedge is not a wave -- it's a 20-foot-plus meat grinder dreamed up by the devil himself. It heaves, bends and pulverizes in ways that good little waves aren't supposed to act. The first time you swim or paddle out on a solid day, a typical thought might be, "Dang, is my chiropractor covered in my medical plan?" The Wedge is a combination of two waves that merge together, thrusting into a titanic slingshot that breaks with enough pounds per square inch to send Stone Cold Steve Austin to the mat. It takes a south swell only, refracting the swell energy off the jetty and creating a sideways wave that slings across the beach and mates with the next wave in the set. The result is what locals fittingly call a "humping effect," where the set waves jack, expand and release in unimaginable ways. The key to a good Wedge wave is the right swell interval. If the interval is just right, the side wave will hit the main swell at the perfect moment, causing it to "wedge." Too short or too long an interval and the side wave will miss hitting the main peak. It's not uncommon to see skimboarders, spongers and bodysurfers catching the side wave before it collides, resulting in ozone-depleting aerials, monstrous tubes and insane wipeouts. Although the Wedge is perhaps the best-known bodysurfing spot in the world, in recent years there's been an influx of stand-up surfers. What was once a novelty for guys like Danny Kwock back in the '80s is now serious business for pros like Strider Wasilewski, the Hobgood twins and a long list of other challengers. Part of the reason for the influx of hard goods is that the media -- both surf and mainstream -- have been persistent in recording all the action. Every summer, there's guaranteed to be a center spread of some hapless fool getting launched or a front-page shot on the Los Angeles Times of the Wedge at its nastiest. Despite the increased presence of fiberglass and foam, an alternative wave is best suited to an alternative approach, which is why bodysurfers still rule the place. In fact, they literally rule the place -- thanks to a serious lobbying effort by the local skull-cap crew, throughout the summer, no boards of any kind are allowed in the water except in the early morning and late evening. So if you're feeling suicidal, or just want to watch stand-up surfers and bodyboarders play demolition derby at one of the most breathtaking natural spectacles in Southern California, it's best to show up in the morning or late afternoon.

Nestled in a beautiful cove at the northern end of Laguna Niguel lies Salt Creek, a watery playground of long pointbreak-style lefts, wedgy A-frames, relentless shorebreak and sand-gurgling rights. You name the type of wave, and Creek probably has it. Now add spongers, B-grade pros, gangstas from Santa Ana, 14-year-old girls, the entire Dana Hills surf team, wealthy tourists, newlyweds and, of course, Pat O'Connell, and you have a typical day at Creek. It's an interesting mix, but amazingly, everyone seems to get along. Much like the rest of Orange County, Salt Creek has a rich history of change and development. In the early '40s, the break was a raw, undeveloped park where surfers could literally drive up the beach, hop out of their cars and go surfing. There were no houses, no meters and no hotels. Twenty years later, the United States Surfing Association bought rights to the break and charged 75 cents a day for winter use. Members of the USSA could only bring one guest and had to deposit their money in a tin cup attached to a stick, extended over a fence by a caretaker. From there, Creek took a quantum leap in construction. There is now the multimillion-dollar Ritz Carlton Hotel ominously overlooking the beach, an exclusive apartment complex sitting next to the Ritz and an even ritzier St. Regis across the way. Throw in a massive golf course, pay parking, snack bar, grassy park and Starbucks, and you have a post-millennial Salt Creek. Many say development has staunched proper sand flow from the now-extinct dunes, and that the bars aren't close to what they once were. Despite this charge, Creek's primary waves remain. At the most southern end of the beach is the Point. It's a goofyfoot's skatepark as far as left pointbreaks go: extremely rippable, extremely crowded and has an extremely small takeoff zone. The Point takes any south swell and on the largest days, it can reel across the bay producing 50-yard rides. Watch out for rocks on the inside at low tide. On small days during winter, it's a superb fishing hole for boardfishing -- but don't tell anyone: it's the only secret spot left on this stretch of beach. Middles is usually where the rest of the pack ends up catching waves. Peaks crumble year-round from the outside and suck dry on the inside, creating ankle-snapping aerial sections on the right tide. During summer after 10 a.m., Middles is blackballed and Point is the only spot left open to surfers. If you're one of those surfers who enjoys pulling into deep closeout tubes and getting sand in all of your orifices, head north of Middles to the section in front of the golf course called Gravels. On west swells, Gravels is a showcase right-hand barrel. It peels in about 2 feet of water on any tide, and sometimes throws squarely into shore, like Sandy Beach shorebreak. Clearly not for the slow-to-the-feet or for someone who's invested 700 bucks in a potato-chip shortboard.

Killer Dana is dead, and Doheny is its low-budget tombstone. Thirty years ago, a jetty and harbor transformed summer's Orange County answer to Rincon (500-yard right-hand walls on big south swells) to a polluted children's wave. Faithful old-timers still paddle out to catch its meager remnants, but they're left pining for the past. If you aren't aware of what existed before it, Doheny is an ideal beginner's wave. Swells slip past the swell-choking jetty, break softly over a bed of cobblestones and form into slow shoulders. A few hundred yards north, by the San Juan Creek, there's a sandbar and reef that break better on stronger swells. During the winter of 1993 and the El Nino winter of 1998, perfect sandbars formed near the rivermouth and produced hollow freight-train rights. If you can withstand the sky-high fecal counts, it's these types of bars that'll quench the thirst for days past. Those days are all too rare, though, so Doheny, if anything, will serve as great place to introduce your child to his/her first wave. For many years Doheny has been ranked at or near the top of lists of the most polluted beaches in southern California. Orange County Health Care Agency's 2003 Ocean and Bay Water Quality Report indicates that Doheny had the most "Beach Mile Days" of water quality standards violations of any beach in Orange County. Heal the Bay's 2003-2004 Beach Report Card listed Doheny as their #1 Beach Bummer, consistently earning "F" grades for water quality, especially during wet weather. Although a sewage treatment plant exists alongside San Juan Creek just up from the beach, this plant has had a good operating record in recent years. Doheny's high bacteria counts are likely due to a combination of factors, including urban runoff from the 134 square mile San Juan Creek watershed, pollution from boats in Dana Point Harbor, large flocks of seagulls that poop in the creek water near the creek mouth, and poor water circulation at Doheny which has been a problem ever since Dana Point Harbor was constructed. If you live or work in Dana Point, Laguna Hills, Laguna Niguel, Mission Viejo, Rancho Santa Margarita or San Juan Capistrano, you could be part of the problem or part of the solution. Surfrider Foundation reminds you not to litter, to pick up after your dog, not to over-irrigate your lawn, don't hose off your sidewalk or driveway, and take your car to a car wash rather than washing it at home. And stay out of the water at Doheny and at other surf spots near creek mouths and major storm drains for up to 72 hours after a rain.

T Street is known primarily for one thing -- consistency. The entire West Coast from Jordan River to Cabo could be flat, and T Street, the central hub for San Clemente's finest, would manage to cough up a wave or two that would make some surfer happy. There are a lot of things that help T Street break: sandbars, reefs, rocks and odd seaweed gardens all contribute to the wave's quirky behavior, which can only be described as schizophrenic. It'll transform from San O' to mini-Backdoor in the time it takes to do a bottom turn. Although the T Street fanatics have a million different names for every hole in the reef, the break can best be divided into three spots: the Reef, Cropley's and Beach House. If you park your car at the base of Trafalgar Street and look straight out from the overpass you will see the main reef. On a strong south swell, lefts hit the outside reef, break slowly, then peel over the inside rock shelf, bowling in a fast down-the-line section. On winter swells, you get the opposite: long, workable rights off the reef ending in a collapsing shorebreak. Cropley's is strictly a winter break. Named after the owner of a tasty hamburger stand that no longer exists, Cropley's provides fast, zippy right-hand peaks just north of the snack bar. Some swear it's T Street's best wave when it's on -- which isn't very often. It takes just the right swell direction from the northwest. South of the overpass, there's a sandbar that old-time locals call the "Beach House." It's named after a candy shack that once stood more than two decades ago. On medium-size swells, you can catch some wedgy lefts and rights that are often less crowded and more geared toward shortboards and, yes, sponges. T Street is a haven for bodyboarders. For the past 30 years, the beach has been blackballed during summer to allow the boogie crew to spin to their hearts' content. As a result, T Street has produced a number of good professional bodyboarders who can often be found out in the lineup. Once fall arrives, most of the bodyboarders leave and in comes the San Clemente locals. Thanks to Martin Potter's summer stays in the area in the early to mid-'80s, T Street is So Cal's Fertile Crescent for the aerial. From Matt Archbold to the Fletchers to the Beschens to the Wards to Michael Losness, a whole army of light-footed surfers have honed their launches off the inside bowls that bend and warp and scream, "Spank me!"

UPPERS OVERVIEW: While the surf media limelight tends to focus itself a quarter-mile south, Upper Trestles steadily grinds out quality cobblestone righthanders that are often equally as impressive as Lowers. And if the river is flowing, Uppers can even offer a short, punchy left into the mouth. But the focus is always on the rights, especially since Uppers draws in a bit more west and northwest energy than its sister to the south. North of the rivermouth is the outer takeoff zone, which peaks up the biggest but usually sections off once the wave reaches the corner of the cobblestone point. From the corner, which offers the most bowly, rippable waves, rights run through the quasi-cove created by sediment buildup from the San Mateo Creek. And if you pick off the right wave, it's not impossible to go the entire distance -- burning your legs through upwards of 150 yards. It should be noted that the sections are directly affected by sand and cobblestone placement. Big swells and the extreme rains that cause the rivermouth to burst are the main movers and shakers of Uppers' wave quality. -- Mike Cianciulli TRESTLES OVERVIEW: At the edge of Orange County's suburbia nightmare lies the Trestles experience -- one-and-a-half miles of God's country. No metered parking. No Ruby's Diner at the end of the pier. No blackballs, closeouts, volleyball nets or "Baywatch" sets -- simply put, Trestles is one of those destinations that just about any devoted surfer finds hard to resist. What makes it so irresistible? Obviously, the 100-yard lefts and rights -- which make even the most mundane surfer feel like Kelly Slater -- has something to do with it. But the complete Trestles experience offers so much more than a few tail-drifting off-the-lips. If you time it right, you can catch a bobcat or deer darting through the spindly brush and oak trees, looking for dinner or a drink in the nearby San Mateo Creek. There's the chance of getting caught with your pants down on the trestle -- clutching your surfboard to your thumping chest as the Amtrak train bears down on you. There's the guest book, a string of wax graffiti on the quarter-mile asphalt path that help break up the walk with entries such as "Team Buttream" and "Eat My Stick". Finally, there are the long, hot summer days watching the world's best pull maneuvers at Lowers that -- up until then -- were only confined to the highlight reels of the newest surf video. Trestles is a fresh breath of air within the folds of the suffocating Orange Curtain. With so many breaks in the area serving fast-food-type waves, it's nice to know that there's a spot that still requires a little effort. Surprisingly enough, the effort to get there doesn't keep enough people away. Trestles is always crowded during summer, particularly at Lowers. And the rest of the breaks -- Uppers, Cotton's, Church and everywhere in between -- have their share of hungry waveriders. Still, it's possible to get your share of quality waves; the kind where you hit the lip a half dozen times and start to think you're much better than you really are. All of the breaks at Trestles have that magic -- the ability to keep you coming back making the 20-minute walks, dodging the train and the surfers, to score that one ego-boosting wave.

San Onofre State Beach is the Waikiki of the California Coastline -- a beginner's paradise of gentle breaking waves, long sandy beaches and an absence of ego. It was at this break, more than 50 years ago, that legendary surfers such as Lorrin "Whitey" Harrison, Don Okey and Bob Simmons planed forward using balsa/redwood surfboards. Today, it is one of the last few beaches that epitomizes the California surfing lifestyle. On any given summer weekend, you can find a whole tribe of surfers playing volleyball, talking story and swilling beer under grassy huts or sitting hunched over their longboards, waiting for the next lazy peak to float their way. Locals divide San Onofre into three main breaks: the Point, Old Man's and Dogpatch. All work best on a strong south swell. If you must bring a shortboard to San O', which, by the way, is the equivalent of bringing a longboard to Teahupoo, the Point would be your best bet. The Point is located directly in front of the northernmost parking spot. On a head-high southwest swell, there are some relatively fast lefts (fast in San Onofre terms) and even a section or two to hit if you get lucky. Rights are far more predominant and can be milked with a funboard or longboard. During winter, the Point often shuts down. With a 15-minute paddle to the south of Point, you'll find yourself in the surfing world's equivalent to the movie Cocoon. Here at Old Man's, geezers rule and grommets learn. The wave rolls off a padded reef some 200- to 400-yards offshore and is mushier than a bowl of cream of wheat. A longboard that'd float Shaquille O'Neal is the weapon of choice and surfing etiquette does not apply. In fact, it's not uncommon to see 10 people on a wave during the summer, nor is it rare to see lawn chairs and dogs brought on board. Just south of Old Man's is Dogpatch. It's ideal for beginners if the swell is up and they cannot make the paddle out to Old Man's. On a high tide, Dogpatch breaks in slow motion and is second to Doheny as Orange County's easiest wave to learn on. All of San Onofre's waves are typically indecisive about breaking. If you understand this point, you'll be well ahead of the game. Waves here like to crest, back off, crest, back off, crest, back off and then finally break. Trying to find your "one last wave" of the day can be a good trial in anger management. But if you find yourself ready to spout, you've missed the point. San O' is there to remind us that in this crowded world, there's still a spot where we can all ride together with smiles on our faces.