…a certain atmosphere, a certain excitement about seeing a row of surf rigs along the beach side of the pullout, more on the bluff side, only a narrow route between them; still early, with those who stayed overnight just making some coffee, arranging their brunch items, and way too many people in the water, with others arriving, or, going by the adage that ‘it must be good, people are out,’ suiting up; with no question that they’ll be going out, joining in the fun of sharing waves. After all, it’s just lucky to have waves at all, and, if one knows anything about the break at all, one should know that the high tide, already working on this, will mush the waves to death in the next hour or so, that is, if the swell angle doesn’t move two degrees that way or the other; and, sometime before the tide switch, the side winds will be chattering across the lineup.
Maybe, as my friends say, I’m getting soft, not pushing my way into the lineup. Maybe. I took some photos before I left. I’ll have to go through them. Bypassing my backup backup spot, figuring the collective prayers of those who can only surf weekends had been answered, I took the circuitous route to a different spot.
There’s something about an empty lineup, an empty wave; a certain excitement, a certain… you know, you must know. If you don’t, look for the crowd… it must be good.
And to think that forty years ago this spot lay empty and was blown off by the few of us that surfed as we made our way to a reef on the outer coast.