Here's my version of the landing and launching at Emma Woods campground. The rest of the trip we were all together.

As we arrived at Emma Wood Campground, we all noticed that there weren't a lot of good landing places to take a break. The shore was very rocky and the surf was a mixture of 3 foot spilling waves interspersed with 7 foot shore dumping waves that looked like they would crush a boat to pieces.

Patrick Martin, Mike Condit, and George Miller decided to paddle a little further and see if things were any better at the surfing beach just around the point. Peter O, John Ernst, and I looked in that direction and all we could see were lines of breakers coming in and it did not look inviting.

The three of us decided to paddle back east from where we were and land at one of the 2 small sand beaches that we saw. We came to the first small beach and from our initial vantage point, it looked like the surf was very small. However, as we got closer, we decided that this would not be a good place to land. We went several hundred yards further, and found that although the big 7 footers were making it impossible to land, the timing was such that we should be able to get in on the 3 footers between the large sets.

John went first. All of a sudden I saw him broach and his head disappeared behind a wall of water. As the wave died down, I could see John side surfing the rest of the wave onto the beach. Well that was one person on land in one piece. Peter O then started and again his body, head, and boat disappeared in a large amount of whitewater. As it cleared, there was Peter, starting to pop his skirt and climb out.

Now it was my turn. I started in and shortly felt my stern get lifted by a huge wave. I back-paddled to stay behind it and watched another start coming in. I started back paddling into it and felt my boat stop completely as it's forward motion canceled my backward motion.

Soon I was coming in between the waves. I felt a 3 footer pick me up and I side surfed it until it let me go and immediately straightened out and started to paddle in again. Twice more I side surfed some smaller waves and made it to shore without incident.

Three of us were now on shore in one piece with no carnage. We were all wet however from the violence of the waves that we side surfed in. After a while it was time to launch.

The waves now looked very intimidating. The waves were mostly those huge 7 footers, but every 10 minutes or so, three or four smaller 3 footers would give us a window to launch. I prepared to go first. John mentioned that if one of the big ones is going to break on you, that you should lean forward and kiss the deck of your boat. I thought "easy for you to say, but I don't have that kind of flexibility." Sitting on the beach, the waves kept trying to broach my boat and we had a hard time keeping pointed at the surf. Peter was going to give both John and I a push when the time was right.

Suddenly, Peter asked NOW??? and I said YES. I launched and soon a 3 footer broke on the boat, but it was no big deal. I saw a big wave starting to form and paddled as fast as I could to get through it before it clobbered me. All of a sudden, I saw a wall of green water in front of me and I knew I was going to get hit hard. I pulled my paddle to the side to spear the wave and bent as far forward as I could. Before I knew it, my lips were touching my deck and the water was pounding down on my head. As soon as the water pressure on my head eased, I sat up and swung my paddle into a slap brace and stayed upright. I started paddling again and noticed another big one heading right towards me. John mentioned that when he saw those last two waves that he started praying for me.

This time my timing was a little better and I climbed that wall of green and felt my boat go airborne as I crested the wave. I kept paddling until I was almost a 1/2 mile off the beach and was past the breaking waves. Finally I could turn and watch the beach. John's prayers obviously worked.

John was still there waiting to launch. He finally went and from my vantage point, he got clobbered about the same as I and about the same number of times too. He also managed to stay upright and soon he was joined up with me.

Then Peter was ready to go. Without someone to hold his boat it was difficult to stay lined up, and several times I noticed that Peter had his boat on its side as he attempted to straighten it out. He succeeded and finally he started to paddle out. Like John and I, Peter got hit by multiple large waves on the way out but stayed upright through them all. It took almost thirty minutes for the three of us to make it off of that beach.

After the three of us formed up, George and I started to coordinate the two groups via VHF radio. We set out at a slow pace towards Ventura Harbor and George caught up to us in about 30 minutes. About 15 minutes, Mike and Patrick caught up too.

As we paddled back, George, Patrick, and Mike took the inshore route, and John, Peter and I took the offshore route. George paddled back to the boat launch ramp and the rest of us all met up in time to land almost simultaneously at Mother's Beach.

It was a great day on the water. Conditions were challenging and it was a fast 4+ knot pace; but it was fun to challenge and win, although we were all still soaking wet by the time we landed.

Thanks Patrick for organizing this and thanks to Wayne Horodowich for some excellent tips from his surf zone video. Peter, John, George, Patrick, and I were in a small segment in that video, and the things we learned from it, definitely contributed to this trip having no carnage from the landing and launching.

    Steve

PS, I was going to bring my underwater digital camera, but wisely decided to leave it in the car when I saw the surf we were going to be paddling through.

The good news is that the predictions for 15 mph winds was wrong and we were able to spend most of the day paddling in wind conditions that were less than 5 mph with plenty of sun shine to keep us warm. The hills north of Ventura were turning green and the view of the canyons and mountains from out on the water was really spectacular. Conditions on the water were rather relaxing and tranquil with gentle swell lifting us about 6 or 7 feet into the air every now and then. While paddling in deep water the swell was just enough to make things interesting.

It seemed like we had been on the water for less than an hour when George brought up the idea of doing a landing. Now 7 foot swell in deep water has a whole different personality than 7 foot swell when it meets the beach. When gentle swell meets the beach it seems to get angry. It rears back on it's hind legs like a dragon, then roars and thunders as it rolls and dumps into a froth. Like a forest fire it creates its own wind that blows spray into the air. From a distance it's rather pretty. Up close and personal it's exciting.

For some strange reason, George, Mike and I wanted to get up close and personal with the surf. About 200 yards off shore the waves were breaking over a shoal and then reforming to amuse the surfers near the beach. Over the shoal the waves were breaking about 8 feet high and steep enough that they could pitch-pole a 19 foot ocean kayak in a heartbeat. We were smart enough to figure that out right away. But the shoulder of the waves looked inviting. So we agreed to give it a try.

Riding the shoulders of the big waves was a little disappointing. Each of us caught a few short rides, but no one got a really long ride. The problem was that if we went too far to the left the wave would go vertical and slam us like a freight train from hell. A few feet to the right and the shoulder of the wave flattened out and would pass under us. The sweet zone was an area about 2 feet wide that unfortunately never seemed to happen twice in the same place since each wave was different.

The best ride that I had terrified me because the back end of my boat was trying to hitch a ride on the freight train while a long strand of kelp was trying to pull my paddle out of my hand. The good news is that none of us got clobbered while we were trying to surf.

After we gave up trying to surf, George asked if we wanted to go ashore since he had spotted a 15 foot patch of sand without too many big, sharp rocks on it. I looked to Mike for an out, but he shrugged and said "I'll do whatever you do." When I looked back at George he was on his way through the surf. I've got to give George credit, he made landing through the 4 to 5 foot dumping surf look easy. His timing was perfect. He missed the rocks, hit the sand, got out of his boat, and dragged it to safety as only a man high on adrenaline can do.

Now it was our turn. But the window of opportunity was over as the next set of breakers was coming in. While George watched from the beach, Mike and I held our positions out on the water waiting for the next lull. The trick was to stay close enough to the shore so that we could make the dash for the beach when the lull occurred. But if we got too close to the shore we would be at risk of getting ambushed.

After a long set of what seemed to be 15 or 20 big waves, we were inching closer to the beach in expectation that the long awaited lull would arrive on the next wave. That is when I noticed that a really nasty wave was forming up behind us. With my bow facing the shore and no time to turn around, the best that I could do was to paddle backwards as hard as I could and pray that I could build up enough momentum to punch over the wave. When the wave lifted the back of my boat vertical it seemed like I was about to get tumbled forward. Laying back, I stood on the foot pegs and gave it the hardest back stroke that I could. I surprised myself when the boat climbed over the wave and crashed down the back side.

On the back of the wave I kept back paddling as furiously as I could just in the case the wave had a big burley brother. Then, as quickly as it had come, the ocean seemed to calm down; the lull had arrived. As I paddled over to join Mike he told me that he had made it up the front of the wave but had taken a tumble on the back side. Mike had just pulled off his first combat roll and he was sitting there as calm as if nothing unusual had happened! I think I was more excited about it that he was. A paddler's first combat roll is a rite of passage. But Mike had done his roll in a place where an attempted rescue could have gotten all of us in trouble.

A moment later George did a perfect launch and joined us. When we joined up, the three of us grinned at each other as what we had just been through started to settle in.

For once all of our radios worked and Mike, George and I managed to talk to Steve to find out where the other half of our group was. It took about three tries before we figured out that they were near a different overpass than the one near us. Eventually we all managed to join up on the beach, load up, and head across the street for lunch.

I feel a tremendous sense of pride when I see each of my friends doing well under challenging conditions. We have all put in a lot of days practicing our skills, and today it paid off for each of us as individuals and as team members. Very well done, guys!

    Patrick

Thanks for organizing this trip. A paddle up the scenic Ventura coast is just what we needed!

I launched from the boat ramp, to avoid the long Mother's Beach carry and getting sand in everything. After paddling the scenic harbor for a while, in a beautiful morning, I went over to Mother's Beach to meet the others.

There was a significant surge in the outer harbor and dumping waves on the inner beach, where the others were to launch. Someone underestimated the launch conditions and provided the only "carnage" of the day. Meanwhile, on the ocean side, powerful 6-7' plungers and dumpers were sending spray 20-25' in the air.

We got under way about 0906, initially marveling at the spectacular surf pounding the coastline to the south and throwing up huge plumes of spray. We then headed northwest toward Emma Wood Beach, on nearly glassy seas.

The weather was beautiful and it quickly warmed up, finding most of us overdressed for the air temperature, but not the water.

One could hear the delighted screams and yells from the surfers, jubilant at the arrival of genuine winter surf. The advertised twelve second period was actually sixteen seconds, providing a very powerful surge.

We explored the lower part of Emma Wood Beach and concluded that the southernmost, rather sparse sandy areas, provided the best opportunity for landing.

But first, Patrick, Mike and I wanted to explore the northern portion, where we saw and heard heavy, pounding surf. As we headed up there, we saw a nearly impenetrable ring of surf, breaking two to three layers around the point, with huge waves crashing down nearly vertically, on the outer reef. So, of course, we were obligated to paddle out on the outer reef and try to ride some in. It was easier said than done, since they were steep and breaking only in the middle part, with a rapidly fading shoulder, which varied in width from wave to wave. To make a long story short, 20 minutes of frustrating effort resulted in only a couple of 50 foot rides and fatigue.

While we were paddling past the point earlier, I thought I spotted a chink in the "impenetrable ring" around it. It was just NW of a rocky area and just below the heaviest pounding surf. We agreed to land there, by coming from below and slipping behind a reef that was partially protecting the shore. I hung just outside the main breaking area, nervously eyeing large waves coming up on me and looking for a break to run for shore. After three big ones passed under me, I took off, rode a smaller one in and dropped out before it closed out, frantically paddling as the next one started to overtake me. I managed to hold on while the next breaking wave dissipated its energy as it went by me. The final challenge was getting through the inner break, as I was partially broached, straightened, ducked a couple of rocks and ended up grounded at a 45 degree angle, digging my paddle into the sand to avoid getting sucked back out into the next wave. I later found out that I failed to avoid one rock and put a new scuff on the bottom, but not too bad.

It was with relief that I popped the spray skirt and got out, pulling my Extreme and beaching it between the numerous rocks, before it got sucked back out and pounded by the cruel sea. I then turned my attention to Pat and Mike, jockeying for a landing behind me. Looking out to sea from the beach, I thought that I wouldn't have landed if I could have seen that view beforehand. There were rows of breaking waves. As they rose nearly vertically to break, they turned black, blocking out the sunlight under the curl, thunderously coming down and throwing up clouds of spray.

It seemed like Pat and Mike were trying to come in a little farther up than I did. The surf was heavier there than where I came in, threading the needle past the rocks on shore. Anyhow, they didn't see a good opportunity to make a run for it. There were in fact two pauses, but they looked more obvious in retrospect than during. When you're out there looking over your shoulder, you can't always tell what Neptune is about to throw you next.

Suddenly, I saw a big, black wave going nearly vertical. In rapid succession: Mike tried to back into it and had nowhere to brace as he went over the knife edge and capsized behind the wave. I saw nothing until the wave dissipated and then thought that my eyes had deceived me. Mike was just paddling right along, because he did his first combat roll in scary conditions. A couple of heartbeats after that, Pat was in full reverse, going up the face of that fearsome beast like a fast elevator in a skyscraper. His years of experience and cool got him over it and kept him upright.

I shifted my stance, as they continued to seek an opportunity to land, but much less enthusiastically. Eventually, I dragged my boat back to relaunch into the soup, trying to hold in place against a strong rip and waves angling all over the place. Finally, a five footer came in and I could see nothing serious behind it. I took off as it broke, humping over a boiling patch of soup at flank speed before more trouble came after me. I made it over a much larger one starting to rear up then abruptly, it was over and I was in the clear.

John, Steve and Pete landed 1/2+ miles down the coast and had a heck of a time getting back out again, but managed to avoid any incidents. We played catch-up with them, then steamed back to the harbor. After we got packed up and watched the surf for a while, we went over to the greasy spoon over by the Channel Islands Park HQ, only to find out that it is under new ownership and the food is greatly improved. Check it out. Pat, Mike and I went Christmas shopping at the Park HQ store. Nice stuff - no junk.

Regards,
    George Miller