The drive.
I’m not talking about a road trip (although I did go on one today). The drive to wake up before the sun is shining and start the search.
The drive took me on a long drive south. The wind of the previous night had sand in huge piles in the parking lot of the Newport pier, doubling as speed bumps for me and my surfmobile. The sea at Newport had teeth, wind still chucking, massive monsters hacking at the shore.
I sped south towards my safety zone, Doheny, which has a perfect wave that sits off a harbor, blocking wind from ruining your session. I meandered through Laguna, and saw a beautifully manicured park separating the street from a calm-ish ocean, which prompted me to quite literally hit the brakes and zip into some beachfront parking.
There was quite an eclectic mix of people scattered about — homeless men laying on the grass with tribal tattoos on their faces and women walking around in coats more expensive than my car. And then me, who in the flash of an eye had a wetsuit on, everyone staring, wondering why I had a surfboard and eventually even coming up to me and asking why I was paddling into that mess.
I seemed to draw quite the crowd in the park, as me and my big blue board sailed down some lines, trying not to get blown away. I got my fill, got out of the water, unable to feel my face and getting a painful ice cream headache from the cold breeze slicing through.
The drive got me in that cold and lonely ocean, and the drive took me back home, and will without a doubt take me back to the sea in the morning.
