I'm not a morning person. I want that on the record before I tell you to surf at sunrise.
I drink a lot of coffee. I sleep with my alarm across the room because I'd otherwise turn it off in my sleep and miss the tide. Willie does not understand the alarm. He thinks 5:15 AM is an emergency every single time. We've been doing this together for three years now, and his outrage is still fresh.
But here's the deal: I keep doing it. And you should try it too — at least once this spring, before the summer crowds show up. Here's why.
1. The water is glass
Wind is the enemy of a clean wave. In Puka Cove, the wind doesn't pick up until about 9 AM most spring days. Before that, the surface is glass. You can see your own reflection paddling out. The wave faces are smooth instead of chopped up, which makes everything — every drop, every turn, every cutback — feel a half-step easier than it does at 11 AM.
If you've only ever surfed midday windblown slop, your first glass session will feel like cheating.
2. The crowd is, like, three people
Puka Pier at 6 AM in April: I've counted. Some mornings it's me, one guy in a hood I see every Tuesday, and a woman on a 9-foot longboard who never says a word but always nods. That's the lineup. Three people, plenty of waves, no one sniping you off a peak.
Same break at 11 AM on a Saturday: 35 people, eight of them on rentals, all paddling for the same wave. Choose your fighter.
3. Pelican Bluff is doing pelican stuff
The bluff sits south of the pier and it is a working pelican commute zone in the early morning. They fly in formation along the swell line, dive-bombing baitfish, and if you sit out past the lineup you're basically sharing a wave with them. It's the closest I've ever felt to being part of the actual ocean and not just a guy floating on top of it.
Side note: they will steal your snack if you brought one to the beach. Willie has lost a granola bar to a pelican. He is still upset.
4. You'll get back in time to actually have a day
This is the practical one. A 5:30 paddle-out gets you back to the parking lot by 7:45. Showered and home by 8:30. You've already had the best part of your day before most people have started theirs. Errands, work, hanging out, whatever — it's all bonus time on top of a session you already got in.
The reverse is also true. If you save surfing for the afternoon, you'll find a hundred reasons to skip it. Mornings are non-negotiable because there's nothing else competing yet.
5. It's quiet in a way nothing else is
I'm going to risk sounding like a bumper sticker for a second. Sunrise at Puka Pier in April, water at 60°F, fog hanging just off the bluff, sea lions barking from somewhere out by Otter Cove — there is no version of that morning that isn't the best part of the week. There just isn't.
You don't have to be a great surfer to enjoy it. You just have to be there. The waves don't care if you're rusty.
How to actually pull it off
Pack the night before. Wetsuit in the car, board on the rack, wax bar and key in the same spot every time so you're not searching at 5 AM. (Use Cool Water this time of year — 60°F is the bottom of that range, a Cold Water bar works too if you run hot-footed.) Coffee in a thermos. Don't try to make breakfast. Eat something on the way. The goal is less than 20 minutes from alarm to driver's seat.
And bring a hooded towel changing poncho if you have one. I don't care how dignified you think you are at 7:45 AM in a parking lot — you'll thank me.
See you out there. I'll be the one with the small dog who refuses to be left in the truck.