On Pacific swells, it’s all about the board

March 28, 2010|Bonnie Tsui, Globe Correspondent

SANTA CRUZ, Calif. — The sun slants low across the sky as I paddle my surfboard out from shore. It’s late winter on Cowell’s Beach in this northern California surfer town. After weeks of rain, it’s a glorious morning: bluebird skies vivid against low gray clouds. There’s a weight to the water, a metallic gleam to the calm surface that intimates a moody depth. Sea lions bark from under the municipal wharf nearby, and from the beach surfers are scoping out the swell.

In summer, Santa Cruz’s colorful boardwalk lights up with nonstop activity: Teenagers prowl the arcades, couples cram into shooting galleries, and kids sticky with cotton candy run around dragging giant stuffed pandas, their parents lagging wearily behind. Vendors sell tickets for everything from roller coasters and merry-go-rounds to nausea-inducing gravity-drop rides. Though late winter and early spring are decidedly quieter, this town never really stops moving.

Surfing is a year-round activity; at the many town beaches, surfers amble along the sidewalks in wet suits (some bike to and fro carrying their shortboards). Every other shop, it seems, sells surfing gear, even for those who don’t surf (surf-logo sunglasses and T-shirts, anyone?). Kayakers launch their boats from the wharf fronting Cowell’s Beach; joggers run along the sand at the water’s edge; beach volleyball players crowd the sand courts; and cyclists churn up the hills for stunning cliff-side views of the Pacific.

In the 1960s, Santa Cruz was a sun-bleached center of the youth counterculture. The first of Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters’ famous “acid tests,’’ those psy chedelic-fueled gatherings made famous by Tom Wolfe’s book “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test,’’ occurred just outside town in Soquel. The soundtrack to these mind-expansion events was provided by a little band called the Grateful Dead.

These days, an open, progressive vibe persists. On a recent road trip, my friend Lynsay and I found a lively community heavy on organic cafes and juice bars, independent bookstores, and hippie street performers. In the midst of this, surfing continues to thrive — the reason Surfer magazine last year called Santa Cruz the number one US surf town.

We parked ourselves for a surf-oriented weekend at the Dream Inn, a retro-style hotel that opened in September and fronts Cowell’s Beach and the boardwalk. The inn makes it easy for the uninitiated to try their hand at riding waves; the concierge can arrange for stand-up paddleboard or surfing lessons.

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