There are days, like yesterday, when the sun is shining, the water is blue, but the wind, though embracing, simply dominates the surf into chaos and chop. Surfers, up and down the beach, seemed oblivious to the horrid conditions. Their gills were sufficiently dry to warrant a collective charge to the waves. And they found them. They road them.
I walked to the creek where a tiny wave broke in multiple peaks on small 2 foot faces. I tried to imagine getting wet; getting through the incessant sloppy surf, then trying to stay vertical on the SUP while the ocean moved out of rhythm. A wave smoothed out a frothy stretch and washed the chop right out, leaving a slick surface for the next wave. In the blink of an eye it was gone.