Two Outta Three

We returned to Washington the last week of June. The day we departed Los Angeles I woke up early, ate toast and drank coffee, then dropped Kyra off at dance school before heading north toward Malibu. I surfed for a few hours, packed my board back into the van and drove into Los Angeles for the last time. That evening, after Kyra's long awaited showcase, we loaded a few things we'd left lying around, said our goodbyes to Stella, Ryan and his adorable daughter, Ella, and then hopped onto Highway 101 headed north toward Washington.

I suspected that that morning at Malibu would be the last time I surfed for awhile, but I had no idea just how long I'd have to wait. It was bittersweet. Weeks passed, and while I heard rumor of waves and weekday surf sessions, we were in the midst of planning a motorcycle trip to Mexico, which left little time (or money) for weekends without wheels. I went once, maybe a month ago, and caught a small swell and offshore winds. We surfed into the early evening. I can't believe it had been two months since I sat atop a surfboard!

It's odd, the fear that comes from not doing something you're good at. Afraid you'll forget, I suppose. And then the next thing you know... it's as if you never missed a moment. A pig beneath me, paddling over wind scraped swells, dropping slowly into something, taking a step from the stern, increasing speed, then back to the tail, nose up and she'll come around. Honestly, it had been more than a few months since I surfed the swine, having spent most of my mornings at Malibu aboard my BNLW. So that Monday was special, even if the waves weren't. And so was last weekend. I'm looking forward to a few more before Baja.