Eland’s Bay

I don’t care what anyone else says, pointbreaks are a totally different experience when surfing frontside.

One of the more hilarious imbalances to my surfing travels up to this point is that I had surfed a few world class right hand point breaks and none on my forehand. In Australia, my longing to go left became a running joke and I somewhat embarrassingly preferred the beach breaks there for the sheer variety in direction. Jbay, arguably the world’s best right, didn’t seem like it would be a top travel destination for me. Surfing a somewhat advanced level wave on ones backhand is like overcoming a handicap. When I told people I was going to Jefferys Bay, their voices would drop sympathetically into, “Oh…” as I revealed that I was a goofy foot.

While I have had some unbelievably good waves in the form of right points, it was my first taste of a left point that really made me understand people’s obsession with this particular waveform.

The crew I was with in Cape Town had by chance decided to take a long weekend up to Eland’s Bay. When they mentioned it, my ears perked up. I had read about it — a supposedly a colder, diminutive, mirror of Jeffery’s. I didn’t want to get my hopes up but I was really looking forward to it.

So we loaded up for the 3 hour drive. I made some roof racks out of a towel, a blanket, tie downs and sat in the back paranoid as mysterious noises rose and fell with the speedometer.

We stopped to check out this idyllic snow capped mountain scene.

I don’t like to let surfing limit my travels too much. In fact, I’ve taken more non surfing trips in my life. For my first week in South Africa, surfing barely existed for me. After getting into the surfing routine at Jbay though, my wave thirst was full blown. The scenery on way was beautiful, we saw a bat eared fox, elands, and plenty of sheep. But my mind was on the ocean and getting into it as quickly as possible.

Eland’s bay is a tiny place. The roads there are partially dirt and there appeared to be only two shops there…a general store smaller than a gas station and a liquor store. Most of the buildings there seemed like vacation rentals.

The ocean was small and the beach was filled with pungent odors of drying kelp, mussels and a dead seal. It didn’t even look surfable. The wave broke right along the kelp, with shiny brown bumps all along the face. Our upstairs neighbor was going to paddle out anyway so I decided I should take this opportunity to scope out the set up.

The water on this coast was noticeably colder and the kelp was downright creepy. It would rise to the surface like sea hags, heads emerging and bobbing in the troughs of the waves. My paddling efforts were halted by the slick plants numerous times. The sun was setting and I was not getting too many waves. I finally began pulling my way through the kelp and into waves. My first wave was a mini tube view. I was literally standing still, my board stopped in its tracks by the kelp as the wave curled over me. A bizarre thing. I got a few more, long down the lines and whenever I went too far to the bottom of the wave, my board would bump along the kelp until I either got higher on the wave or stopped riding. But I could see the potential and anticipated the coming swell.

photo by Lisa Cannariato

The next morning I awoke to onshore winds and no waves. We took a hike up to see some bushman cave paintings.

I was shooting film most of this time which I haven’t gotten into the digital realm yet. Those will be posted later, eventually. We went to a beautiful empty beach and checked out a seal colony as well. After lunch the waves are still small and onshore but look surfable and I went out for a late session. My friends Nic and Lisa got a few shots I’ll share in the absence of my own photos.

The next morning must have been really good because I wrote “Pointbreaks are a reason to believe in God (and the crowds are proof of cosmic humor).” The swell had picked up to about chest to head high and the place was transformed into a bit of a zoo. Kneeboarders, paddle skiers, body boarders, a stand up paddle boarder and an overload of surfers all crammed in to get some rides. There were plenty of inside scraps to pick off. It’s tough to tell if there are many locals at this spot other than a handful of kids. Mostly people seemed to be weekenders from Cape Town.

In the later part of the day, the wind turned hard offshore. The waves became incredibly photogenic but much harder to surf.

I crawl through the kelp. It moves just like seals. It is shadows and then solid, stopping me in my place. Ice water sits on my lower back and I don’t take in the mountains and dunes…only the crowd and the kelp and my distance from the rocky shelf. I see the mountain only as a reference point for lining up. The waves are few and far between but when they march in, when I can take a table scrap from the cluster of men and boys colonizing the top, and the peak isn’t dulled by the offshores, I go merrily down the stream. The waves create weather systems as they pass. They precipitate and the wind direction changes briefly. We are blinded without wipers and the drops hit my head and hiss as they rejoin the sea.

There were a few wide swingers that would often close out but opened up momentarily for some beautiful interior views. While my neighbor called this place a lefthand Jbay, I never really saw the same power of the swells that came through Jeffery’s. The waves in Elands were perfectly playful while I was there. I got one more session in the next morning with some really fun little tubes. But the crowd just kept getting more absurd. I watched a group of young men lined up 6 deep to paddle out in the already clotted line up. Between this and the frozen fingers, I was happy to be making an exit.