The Proving Ground
You know those waves that separate the legends from the mere mortals? The ones that'll put your skills and cojones to the ultimate test? That was Tijuana Sloughs back in its heyday. This remote, desolate beach just north of the Mexican border was the premier big wave proving ground for the entire coast from the 60s through the 70s. When those big winter swells rolled in from the north, the call would go out - "Surf's up!" - and the bravest watermen around would flock to the Imperial Beach lifeguard station. That's where they'd meet up with Dempsey Holder, the big-smiling "Dean of the Sloughs", and load up his makeshift Sloughmobile for the journey through the dunes to the break zone. Once they arrived, the real challenge would begin. Using proper oceanographic measuring techniques from the tops of sand dunes and lifeguard jeeps, these guys were able to size up the monsters they were dealing with. We're talking cold, mean, slabbing beasts in the 25-foot range on a regular day, with some of the nastiest set waves conservatively estimated to eclipse the 30-foot mark.
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The Gauntlet
But wave face height was just part of the equation at Tijuana Sloughs. This was a heaving, shifting liquid gauntlet that could humble even the most experienced chargers. Different zones had names that hinted at the pucker factor - like the "outside shorebreak" where 17-18 foot bombs would detonate in a ferocious, sandy explosion. Or the ominously-titled "graybeard's grave" further out, where the real soul-takers lurked. If you were crazy enough to go left, the rides could be the fastest, most interminable walls you've ever laid eyes on. But good luck making it out of those death pits. The rule for kicking out? "When you see sand being sucked up the face, it's probably too late." That shorebreak would shape the abundant sand into a churning, shifting mass that could swallow you up in an instant. And the water? A frigid 55 degrees on average, with just wetsuit bottoms for protection as you battled the Sloughs' icy power for hours on end. Demps and the boys were built different, let's just say that.
The Skiff Experiment
Of course, being the madmen that they were, the Sloughs crew didn't just test themselves against the waves - they went full send and tried surfing their lifeguard skiff on the biggest days too. Dempsey had rigged up a crane on the pier to launch that bad boy, loaded up with every board they could cram inside. Then it was a matter of motoring into the lineup, surfing until every stick was lost, and returning to simply drive the jeep down and collect the scattered quiver. As for actually surfing the skiff itself? Well, that was a whole other level of insanity. They'd rope a massive buoy amidships to keep from sinking when swamped, and even installed a self-bailing deck. On Dempsey's first tow, he warned his crew that if they heard a splash and didn't see him anymore, that was the signal to bail. Amazingly, that big Mercury motor could run submerged for a while, allowing them to charge into some absolute nightmares. The skiff would just plow through the liquid wreckage, sometimes getting stuck on the precipice and having to punch its way backwards before being pitched over the ledge. Absolute madness.
The Tragic Decline
For decades, Tijuana Sloughs held strong as a sacred site where the greatest big wave talents were forged. But sadly, even this fabled break couldn't withstand the onslaught of human ignorance and environmental destruction. Despite vehement opposition, a sewage outfall pipe was ultimately installed right on the Sloughs' productive shoal area - one of the richest biological zones in the entire LA Bight. In one fell swoop, this boneheaded decision by authorities on both sides of the border condemned an entire surf ecosystem to a slow, polluted death. These days, the once-thunderous Sloughs break zone sits dormant and forgotten, its powerful rhythms silenced by a murky soup of urban runoff and human waste.
The Journey
To even catch a glimpse of where this legendary gauntlet once stood defiant, you'll need to make your way down to the last beach access before the Mexican border. From the Imperial Beach lifeguard station, it's a short hike south along the coast until you hit that ominous juncture where the Tijuana River valley meets the sea. That's where the Sloughs break zone would have been.
Honoring the Legends
While the thunderous Sloughs may be silenced, the legends of those who conquered its liquid fury live on. If you make your way to the Imperial Beach Pier and Portwood Pier Plaza, you'll find a series of colorful surfboard benches gazing out towards that hallowed ground. Scattered among them are bronze plaques recalling the slough surfers who once trekked from far and wide to test themselves in that shifting, powerful lineup. The plaques honor bits of Imperial Beach surfing history and the incredible watermen who dared to charge the biggest, meanest waves this side of the border. You can almost picture those fearless crews, led by the "Dean of the Sloughs" himself, Dempsey Holder, as they mobilized from the old lifeguard station and made their way through the dunes towards the thundering cauldron. While the journey there is still possible, the reward at the end has been washed away, at least for now. But those plaques and benches ensure the spirit of the Sloughs will never be forgotten.
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