San Diego

Although the butt of San Diego County rests on the most heavily crossed border in the world, many San Diegans have long considered their frontline to be Camp Pendleton in the north. This line of defense isn't held against any third-world nation, but a first. The 17 miles of softly trodden coast between Trestles -- which is technically just inside the San Diego county line -- and Oceanside is said to be the only break in the string of stucco strip malls and planned communities that would someday have stretched from Oxnard to Tijuana. Whether an actual, or just emotional, defense, these miles of coast are imagined to have held the garishness of Orange and L.A. counties at bay. Oceanside, the northernmost coastal city in San Diego County, has carried the weight of Camp Pendleton for almost a century. Its main drag caters to hot-rodding Marines and inland tourists. There are car dealerships, motorcycle dealerships, watercraft dealerships, head shops, $5 barbershop specials, Angelo's, Roberto's, Alberto's, Robertito's, Anita's, a bowling alley and a Dairy Queen. Add to this a mixed civilian population, including a large community of South Pacific Islanders, and you get a beach town as interesting as its surf is consistent. Many of its attributes would be foreboding of the region's character if it weren't for Oceanside's enduring, po-dunk charm. And, despite its burdens and reputation as a rough town, Oceanside is easily one of the most livable surf communities in the county. Although sandbars move and shift along this stretch continually, there are consistent breaks on the north end at the harbor's north and south jetties, and on both sides of the pier. These spots will most often have a crew of surfers on them, but, on better days, the peaks up and down the beach will be just as good. Oceanside is angled to receive southwest swells more readily than the beaches of central San Diego County, and, during southwest swells, it attracts surfers from all parts of SD. From the Interstate 5, take Mission Avenue west until you run into the beach. Take Pacific Street north to the harbor, or south for plenty of parking and easy access to the pier.

For years, this stretch of sand in South Carlsbad was indecipherable from the miles of other average beachbreak in the area. But, as some spots fade into obscurity over the years, others rise to center stage. Ponto -- thought to have derived from a mispronunciation of the Spanish punto, or "point" -- is one case where the Army Corps of Engineers have done some good for the area's surfers. A few years ago, when they decided that the Batiquitos Lagoon needed to be opened up on a permanent basis, they constructed two large jetties that, since then, have proven to be a virtual sandbar factory. The word's definitely caught on over time, however, so a newly formed bank doesn't stay secret for long. Ponto breaks year-round, with rights funneling off the south jetty during the winter and lefts reeling off the north jetty during the summer. Since the lagoon is constantly flowing, watch for a nasty rip that'll suck you out to sea before you have time to adjust the zipper on your wetsuit. And, with every wave you catch that doesn't morph into a worthless closeout, thank the Corps for a job well done.

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The first glimpse of ocean you get when heading north through Solana Beach comes as you exit the town and the road finds its way back down to sea level. An immediate left-hand turn will put you in the parking lot directly in front of Seaside. Another quarter-mile north along PCH, you'll find a once-firing, but now fickle, beachbreak called George's. When coming from the I5 freeway, use the Manchester Avenue exit and head west to the coast. Make a left onto Highway 101 and drive past Cardiff Reef. George's is the beach break just past the Chart House restaurant. Parking is free along the side of the highway, from which you can access the stretch of beachbreak known as George's. Seaside has its own huge parking lot right at the break, in which the state charges a day use fee. For years, this area was nothing but a large dirt field that provided sufficient parking during even the most crowded days. In 1996, the state decided there was money to be made here and paved over the soulful gathering place. Disgruntled locals claim that the construction altered the balance of the elements that made Seaside such a great wave, and left behind yet another average spot. Seaside Reef is predominantly a left that can suck out on the takeoff, then flatten out on the shoulder before reforming into a quick and wackable shorebreak. The right off the peak is much softer, but, with a bit of effort, can be milked along to the same inside section. On extreme low tides, the left will produce some serious tubes, and has been featured in more than a few popular surf videos. Taylor Steele's first project, in fact, was a video called Seaside and Beyond. On days without much swell and a high tide, the inside shorebreak can be a fun option.

This is the best beachbreak in the county, and everyone knows it. The saving grace here is the long hike due to the sheer cliffs. It requires a time commitment that rules out most before-the-job or lunch-break sessions. There are three main peaks, shifting phantom peaks and sneaky insiders that work according to conditions. A deepwater canyon attracts most any swell with west in it and holds waves from 2 feet to as big as it gets. During head-high and smaller swells, low to medium tides are best, but, during large swells, it's less tide sensitive. It should be obvious, by the glider port on the north end, that the dominant wind is onshore. Which is, as Black's northern residents will tell you, the perfect direction to tickle a heavily tanned, stark-naked bum. Black's has long been a celebrated nudist beach, existing in spite of a 1976 city-wide vote banning nudity here and at other city beaches. In fact, the nudies may be able to claim a more entrenched, if not longer, residence at Black's than surfers. But the obscene and surfing have come, over the years, to meld into the essential Black's experience. In an attempt to reign in the freewheeling nudists, the city imposed a "nude line," which is basically a line drawn in the sand and a couple of signs posted. The line is about 20 yards north of Black's North Peak and prohibits nudity south of it. Squeamish surfers can now use the gated road off of La Jolla Farms Road, which ends up at the South Peak, and avoid the nudists altogether. From the bluff above, on a clear day, you can see Catalina Island. So, be warned: a line in the sand on this broad beach doesn't offer much protection against exposure to renegade franks and beans.

One of the most popular beachbreaks in southern San Diego, the sandbars that form at La Jolla Shores and either side of Scripps Pier have qualities that augment the beaches to the south. This stretch of beach isn't quite as tide-sensitive as Mission or Pacific Beach, which makes it the overflow spot for the masses. Although it can be smaller than the surrounding breaks -- Black's, in particular -- its sandbars hold more swell before closing out. And a south wind, which mottles waves in other parts of the county, can blow off or move sideshore here. While the Shores is ground zero for most of the area's beginners, Scripps is a favorite for local hotshots and often draws photographers and filmers. Also in the mix are students from UCSD and other area colleges. West and northwest swells work best, and the rights dominate at these times. Be aware that water quality is often affected by drain outfall directly at the beach. City lifeguards warn that water contact should be avoided for 72 hours after a storm event.

PB Point is a rolling right that meanders through various slow sections. In fact, it's the slowest wave around and requires a low tide and swell with push to make it decent. There was a time, though, when these qualities made the Point ideal. The very first San Diego shack, a copy of the Polynesian throwback at San Onofre, was erected at PB Point during the early '40s. This was the first headquarters of Pacific Beach and La Jolla surfers before they migrated to Windansea. The shack was rebuilt there in 1946. It seems they were moving on to better hunting grounds. Which makes one wonder: where would the shack be now if the tradition had continued? As a social gathering place, and center of a community, the parking lot and beach at the end of Tourmaline Street is something to be cherished -- old friends, old stories, old boards, and a brand-new sunset every night. The atmosphere here is the antithesis of the aggro jostling going on just a quarter of a mile away at the Crystal Pier. The people who surf Tourmaline love it. And you'd have to be bleary-eyed with love to stick with waves that mushy. Longboards are the rule.

Not to be confused with its northern franchise, this small stretch of sand's most elemental physical trait is its location at the end of the Interstate 8. This is where anyone aimlessly heading west will end up, so the beach gets all kinds. It also receives all kinds of swell, and often offers ridable waves when the rest of central San Diego is dry. The town itself is a bastion of liberalism, while the rest of San Diego is, well, also dry. It's the hippiest, if not hippest, San Diego beach community. On the north end, Big Jetty is a hollow right breaking off of the southern jetty of the Mission Bay entrance. It begins with a steep peak and a small takeoff zone, but then elongates into a long, fast right wall. It sections depending on the sandbar and swell direction. Both sets and insiders are similarly shaped, and the break, although preferring a mid- to low tide, will break well on just about any tide. Closeouts are the rule with swell pushing 8 feet plus. The thing to consider here is the San Diego River. Closures are frequent due to runoff from storm events and sewage spills, and signage warning of pollution has been permanently established here. Many local surfers have gotten sick after surfing the jetty. Worse still is the fact that the jetty breaks directly in front of Dog Beach, the only area beach where dogs are allowed to run free, which means there are more land mines in the sand here than in all of Cambodia. Avalanche is a predominately left peak that breaks just north of the finger, or little, jetty bisecting Ocean Beach. It's consistent, and breaks on a variety of tides and just about any swell with a little west in it. Various peaks form just north of the main peak, holding both rights and lefts. This section of the beach is blackballed during summer months from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. During after-work sessions in summer, it's possible to see more neoprene out there than water -- i.e., it's crowded. The Ocean Beach Pier at the end of Newport Street is the most accessible spot in an area of accessible spots. Both right and left peaks, it's temperamental, shifty, unpredictable, perennially surfed and most often mediocre. This is not to say that it doesn't have its good days. When it is working well, usually it's the right peeling into the pier that is the main attraction. There's a mushy, rock-and-sand left on the south side of the pier that often shoots surfers through the pier's pylons at a snail's pace. Local lore says that this left was a solid reef/sand break before the construction of the pier in 1962, but nowadays one can only stand on the pier and imagine its former glory. Like other local spots, the breaks around the pier are happiest on a low to mid-tide, a swell with a little west in the mix and light wind.

At the crusty edge of a city of 1.2 million, the bucolic atmosphere of these reefbreaks is impressive. Beginning in a small neighborhood, the cliffs extend into the chaparral-carpeted U.S. Naval Reservation of Point Loma. A thick kelp bed several hundred yards outside the breaks smoothes the bump out of westerly wind, making it an ideal place to surf when the beaches are blown out. To access most of these breaks, rocky cliffs -- and, often, exposed reef -- must be navigated. Long paddles mired by sea grass and kelp are the norm. The Cliffs produce waves during fall, winter and spring on west and northwest swells, with a couple of southwesterly exceptions. There are many head-high and overhead days, but most of these spots max out before reaching 8 feet. The speed of these waves is often dictated by tide. Low to mid-tide is best. Depending on the power of a swell, mid- to high tide can be slower to nonexistent. Super-low tides dramatically alter the character of the breaks, sometimes making things interesting with shifting peaks and new sections. There are a couple of short, high-tide spots, but these are the exception. Most of the Cliffs' breaks experience long periods of doldrums in the summer. Like an island chain, the breaks here are linked in spirit, yet remain individually defined. Illustrative of the fact, San Diego legend Skip Frye has been known to paddle south, surfing one break to another, and, with the grace of an albatross, turn around and surf and paddle back north. This isn't to say the paddles aren't long. There are huge channels, and, to cover all of the breaks, you'd have to paddle and surf more than three miles. The area holds a minority of performance waves with many lesser alternatives. The ability required to surf these waves often varies with conditions. When the swell is big, there are always a lot of people about and occasional emergency lifeguard runs. Strong currents are predictable at these times. Surfers inexperienced with the area are often unable to get back up the cliff trails during bigger days with higher tides. Some have been battered against the cliffs while trying to exit the water. Also, no matter how big the waves, the cliffs themselves present formidable danger. Almost everything that walks or rolls has taken the short route to the bottom. As with any good California reefbreaks that are buffered by steep cliffs, nice homes and relative isolation, Point Loma is tight-knit community. Many of the surfers here are third-generation locals and almost all of them have augmented their working lives to accommodate their time in the water. King-of-the-hill style localism is in practice. Common sense goes a long way. Paddle out one at a time and, to score points in the eyes of the salty dogs, don't wear a leash.

This is the end of the country -- head west or south any distance, and you'll either be wet or in Mexico. Despite the socioeconomic factors at work here -- a first- and a third-world nation divided by the most heavily trafficked border on the globe -- a surf off the borderland of Imperial Beach can be a serene experience. From the Interstate 5, take Palm Avenue to the beach, then head south on Seacoast Drive. Pull off on any number of side streets and find your own peak. IB, as it's known, breaks year-round and holds some of the best sandbars in San Diego County. Southwest swells are received better here than most any spot in central San Diego, making it a good summertime alternative to Mexico's beaches. Medium tides work best. The shape and location of sandbars vary: sometimes it's hotter near the pier, and sometimes it's better farther south. The very end of Seacoast Drive is a popular spot. There's plenty of public parking, and, south of that, sand and ocean to one side, and wetlands to the other.