California-born surfer Brian Tissot is a marine biologist, author and professor. This article was originally posted in 2016 on Tissot's "Dr. Abalone" website.

Early 1973. Awakened by stones hitting my window, I grab my clock. Wow, it's 5 AM. And a school day too! I grab my board and wetsuit, pile into the car with Jeff Chamberlain and Sam George, and we drive over to the City. There is a slight haze on the bay as we cruise, half asleep, across the Bay Bridge and into the dark and unusually quiet San Francisco streets. Soon we are winding down a long road to a spot we’ve been hearing about. It’s a rocky point situated directly in front of an old Army fort guarding the entrance to San Francisco Bay, directly beneath the south end of the Golden Gate Bridge. No surprise, it's called Fort Point.

The point was first developed by the Spanish in 1794 as a small fortification to protect the bay from the incoming British and Russian warships. This original structure, Castillo de San Joaquin, was dismantled by the US Army in 1853 and replaced with the current Fort Point, just prior to the Civil War. There were 30 similar forts on the US East Coast, but this was the only one on the West Coast. Fort Point was never attacked, but it probably would have held up well, as the brick walls are seven feet thick.

Around one more bend, and we flash out into Fort Point. The sun was just rising over the City as we pulled into the parking lot overlooking the break, which was completely empty. The surf looked totally flat and we start wondering if we should head out to another spot. Then a three-wave set materialized amongst the stillness and haze and wrapped around the point. Everyone was silent as the first wave peaked over and peeled perfectly left; the next two waves did the same. Pandemonium broke out in the car and there was a mad scramble for wetsuits. We clambered down the rocks, ventured into the water, and surfed for two hours.

Fort Point was and still is an eerie place to surf. From the lineup, on a dropping tide, you can see water just outside funneling at high speed through the bay, back out to the open ocean. Incoming swells pass beneath the Golden Gate Bridge and make a 90 degree turn onto the point, forming a clean left break. Between waves, you can hear the traffic on the bridge above. It's hard not to think about all the hundreds of people over the years who have jumped off the bridge to their death.

Suddenly, a loud voice cuts through the stillness. It’s the Military Police telling us to leave the water immediable. We do so. They explain that surfing the point is both illegal and dangerous. We nod, and wait to see what will happen next. Luckily, the MPs just write our names into “the book,” let us off with a warning and tell us to never come back.

By that time, of course, we were hopelessly hooked on this unique and uncrowded break, and we continued to surf there. We quickly figured out that the trick was to time the MP patrols. They were more or less on an hourly schedule, so we would watch and wait for them to leave, scramble out for a 45-minute session, sit shivering in our cars while they came back around, then hit it again when they left. We still got caught a few times, but we used fake names and they didn’t check our IDs. This strategy worked for months.

At some point that summer, however, one of my friends mentioned my name and because I was already in "the book" I was cited. Jeff Chamberlain and I were placed in the back of separate military police cars and taken down to headquarters to be booked [watch video, below]. My crime was “Trespassing on Military Property for Purposes Unlawful,” and I was released and ordered to appear in court the following month. When I realized this was in fact a federal offense, I began to get a little nervous—especially since my father, overseas in Vietnam, was a US Navy Captain.

Because of my age (16), my public defender suggested we ask for a jury trial and take the issue public, reasoning that the Army didn’t want the exposure. Sure enough, when we asked for a jury trial in federal court the Army immediately dropped the charges. Coincidently, Fort Point was turned over to the National Park Service the following year, at which point it became open to surfers. As we discovered later, surfers had been getting warnings and citations at Fort Point for years prior to our "discovery," and the Army had in fact become stricter over time. If you didn’t come in when they yelled at you they would contact the Coast Guard to arrest you. Since the Fort had been deactivated after World War II, the military probably just got tired of arresting surfers and looked for another approach. The National Park Service turned the Fort into a popular tourist destination—having daredevil surfers out there riding waves only added to the attraction.

For a while, after Fort Point opened up, it was still a great place to surf. Unfortunately, over time, Fort Point became crowded and localized. I certainly didn't appreciate it in 1973, but I guess the Fort being owned by the Army had its advantages.

FORT POINT '73: A SURFER-POLICE AFFAIR GOES ON THE ROCKS

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