Stinson Beach 1969

by B D Fenton
(San Juan Capistrano)

I was a freshman in college going to school a hundred miles inland in Northern California when I met some surfers from the Bay Area. We all bailed on school for a week and headed to Stinson Beach. It was in the halcyon days of flower power, free-love, psychedelics and rock and roll and we were into all of it. Stinson had a fascinating population of eccentrics like nothing I had ever experienced growing up down south.

I have three distinct memories of that week:

1) A very cool surf shop. The owner had long dark hair halfway down his back and a Jesus beard. I can't remember his name. I think he was married and his wife helped him run the shop. He was shaper and glasser for his brand - "SeaPeople Surfboards". I thought the name ultra cool at the time...

2) A guy we stayed with. I can't remember his name either, (too many drugs when I was young?), He had shoulder length blond hair. About 5'9", living with his girlfriend. He had a huge surfing trophy with someone elses name on it. I loved how he came by it.

If I remember right, he told us he had been chased out of the water for a surf contest and while standing on the beach he heard a surfer's name being called repeatedly to report for his heat. When it became obvious the guy was a no-show, my host stepped up and usurped his identity and took his place.

To make a long story short - as a local, he had the place wired and surfed all the way to first place. He stood on the stage and took his trophy and his prize. He stood smiling for pictures all the while posing as the contestant that failed to show up. He took the trophy home and proudly displayed it in their living room.

At the time there was a rift between 'contest' surfers and 'soul' surfers. That trophy was kind of a statement that the soul surfers could match the contest surfers if they chose to. We were dumb kids , but I thought that trophy was bitchen.

3) A hippie living in an old house. A really old, dinky little place. He had stuccoed the outside and fixed it up using all sorts of discarded materials. He did all the work himself. It looked a bit rough, but it was pretty cool. Especially the windows. He had replaced most of the large windows with colored beer bottles stacked on each other and cemented like bricks. From the inside it looked rather like leaded glass circles.

Nowadays the HOA would probably force him to demolish a residence like that, but in those days, we thought it brilliant. Very un-establishment. (Come to think of it - I don't think it was his place, he may of been a squatter.)

That's pretty much it. There was a girl, but since I am way married we won't go there. It was a magical week of surfing, parties, trippy people and sunny weather. I always meant to go back, but never did. Now I can't even remember the names of the guys who took me there, but I am glad they did. The place was hippy-surfer heaven in 1969.