The fog of morning cleared for me to dance on the high tide Hermosa lines with Jim, who after some cortisone in his hip was finally back to carving water with his smooth retro style.
A second session of evening fog didn’t clear at first, and I dove headfirst into the heavy mist, not a clue if there were waves beyond.  I broke through the veil and was delighted to sail through clean glass nearly by myself, barely being able to see the shore from the lineup.  Not long before sunset, everything lifted, and the orange sky shined on the black-as-oil water, reflections in the surface bright as ever.
