I must have been born lucky. You see, I got to grow up in Santa Barbara with Rincon being my home surf break. Yep, one of the finest point breaks on the entire North American continent and this is the wave I spent most of my surfing developmental years riding. I didn’t know how good I had it when I was a kid, but after years of world travel, I surely know now.  

  Stand out moments at Rincon could certainly fill a book and names of the legions of respected surfers to ride there are legendary. Unknowingly, I met the very first Rincon rider while on my high school swim team back in 1970. Gates Foss worked at Santa Barbara High in the athletic department and tended the pool as one of his duties. He was an older, balding man and didn’t talk much about his younger days to us young punks, but one day he overheard some of us talking about surfing and told me he used to surf at Rincon, way back before the freeway was built, back when Rincon was known as “Three-mile” in the mid-1930s, because it was three miles from the Carpinteria train depot. I later found out he was the first surfer to standup ride those long, perfect lines on his wooden plank after he just happened to drive by and “thought it looked like a good place to surf.” He opened his locker and showed me some old, curled, black and white images of him back in those days. Being young, I recall not being all that awed by this bit of sharing, but boy, it means a lot more to me now and I sure would love to see those old surf photos again but unfortunately, Gates Foss has long moved on to the perfect waves in the sky.

  Originally called “La Rinconada del Mar” or “The little corner by the sea”, this protrusion of coastline, with its indicator, rivermouth and cove spots, can all string together on the right winter swell into a quarter-mile, surfing E-ticket ride, and has provided numerous thrill sessions for myself and countless others. Shaun Tomson once called it “the ultimate canvas for self expression.”  I coined a name for it back in 1981 with a major article I wrote for SURFER Magazine. I dubbed it “The Queen of the Coast,” which suited the spot perfectly because of its dependable consistency, quality length of ride, the way the spot spread out the masses of wave-lusting surfers plus the free and easy access from the highway.  All important factors and the name has stuck over the decades when referring to this beautiful, world-class break. 

 Over the years, I’ve seen plenty of iconic surfers show their style there. Nat Young was visiting in the early 1970s and rode a keel-finned, hard-edged, low rail, full pintail that offered little cutback options, but certainly had plenty of down-the-line speed. Only a surfer of his talent could make this experimental board work well and he did, drawing fast, graceful lines on many a cove face.  

  There was a guy named Merv Larson, who used to show up and ride a custom, sit-down, surf ski he built and totally shredded at the “Con.” He wore a crash helmet with music being piped into a water proof receiver from his parked van. (This was decades before waterproofed iPods and the like.) He would use his paddle, catch waves early and absolutely rip, pulling huge bottom turns and helicopter 360s off the top of waves.  With his performance, I assumed he was listening to some heavy rock music, but he later said, “Naw, I like the classical stuff…symphony music!” 

  One epic 80s swell, Mickey Dora showed up on a borrowed board. A buzz was in the air about his presence in the indicator lineup. Surfers don’t get much more legendary than Dora. I saw him smoothly, high-line connect a set wave all the way down through the cove to the sea wall. It was very cool to witness that. 

  Local standouts have included Stu Fredericks, Matt Moore, Steve “Hog” Johnson, Pug Bernhardt, Chris Kunze, Donny Campbell and Ronnie Wolfe over the decades. Later shredders included Tim Smalley, Dana McCorkle, Alexi Usher, Chris Brown, and Kim Mearig plus mega-stars like Tom Curren and lately Bobby Martinez. There are just so many. I’m sorry for all those I missed. Rincon just breeds talent.

  The most perfect day I ever saw at Rincon was not even a day at all. It was a clear, chilly, winter night after 11:30 p.m. with a high and bright full moon illuminating the lineup. The cove was at medium tide and pulsating at a steady, six-foot. The scene was absolutely surreal as phosphorescence from a plankton bloom caused our tracks to have a ghostly glow as we slashed across the silky-smooth, total perfection. You could not make out anyone’s faces. All you could see were these dark, shadowy figures and their glowing trails slicing across these stacking, moonlit walls. When I came in, there were 20 guys out. What does that tell you? It was just so damn good.

  On the beach, I ran into Randy Rostoker, who was just arriving and always seems to show up wherever and whenever the surf is firing. This time it was freakin’ 1:30 in the morning. We watched flawless lines roll by in the sparkling moonlight before he ran off and paddled out into the darkness.

  For me, no winter is complete without a few glorious sessions at Rincon. When lines stack up from the indicator through the cove, well, it’s a heavenly place to be. The majestic reign of California’s Queen of the Coast continues on.