Compression Check

Surfing swine isn't for everyone. Forty pounds of pork sitting atop your skull, crushing your cranium, shortening your spine. Even the most savory soul isn't inclined. But there's something about the way they slide; trimming toward the top, turning from the tail... it's an acquired taste. One I've probably talked about too much. Anywhoo. Lemme tell you what happened this weekend. We hiked in again, to that secret spot we surfed last Sunday. The wind was working from the west, though. Onshore when we showed up. It took a few hours for us to decide whether we wanted to wander down there. Sixty-five and sunny had us sitting outside instead of surfing.

It was the boats and beginners that sent us somewhere else. Searching for solitude. But as far as I'm concerned, it was worth all the walking. Because we had it to ourselves - small waves that broke both directions. Peeling like a point. We surfed for four hours, finally calling it quits when the wind picked up. By the time we hiked back and headed out, the tide was starting to come in. With sunset scheduled for sometime around ten, we decided to surf a second time. The swell size was increasing and the wind went away. I paddled out alone. Karissa and a few friends followed. It was warm enough to go without gloves and there were whales in the water. We surfed until the sun settled behind the hills, and ate dinner in the dark. A damn fine day.

Forward Thinker.

Seafoam Green.



Inside Angel.




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