Steamer Lane Promises

by Steve Snow
(Newport, Oregon)

The headline read, Steamer Lane Promises huge swell. Waves slammed the wall on the West side, spray drowned surprised joggers and a few convertibles. Low tide was at 1:30, this looked bad for me.

The radio put out the buzz and people were flooding in from all parts. Big waves and 82 degree air temperature in November. A raft of bodies were floating from the beach at Cowells, through Indicators to the outer edge of the Lane. The best surfers were all over the huge walls, doing 180's on short boards before the rocks. A clean up swell moved through and swept most off the plate. I followed my friend who was acting as guide and mentor. It was big, the crowd was big, I was getting smaller with each step I took down the moss covered concrete stairs. Oregon is nothing like this. I felt like a Nascar driver entering the water and wondered how many in the crowd would be entertained at seeing me smash up in the pits.

After banging my ten foot log on the rocks I managed to get my leash on. My timing wasn't very good, I arrived at the impact zone just in time to catch a monster bomb that threw me back toward the starting line. I heard lots of ahhs and whooos, but mainly laughter. And who could blame them?

At last I got to the tail of the Lane so I could be out of the way as much as possible, but still have a chance at catching one of the numerous rights peeling off this wave assembly line. This ain't Oregon I thought, with our junky point breaks and phantom sand bars that promised to confuse you at the last minute. Here you could sit and predict, to some degree what you would receive. No wonder Santa Cruz got the number one vote as the the best surf town in America.

Finally, I managed to get one and found myself weaving through the crowd between two other surfers. We shared the wave as far as it would carry us, which was through Indicators, then we continued into Cowells which was breaking waist to chest high, all the way to the beach. It was the longest ride I had ever had. The lane promised, and it delivered, again and again and again and again.