Heaven is not in the clouds for me. It’s in the sea.
Breaking through the traffic-laden girth of LA, Paul Roustan and I emerged into a less traversed scenic road to search for a little slice of heaven about an hour north of the South Bay, where there was supposedly some swell that was going to be hitting this morning (according to the oh so helpful Surfline).
As we arrived our hopes shouldn’t have been too high. Paul and I have this funny thing that happens. We get together every once in a while to chase waves out of the South Bay on a road trip, and every time we get somewhere the surf is the exact opposite of the report, substandard, or its crazy windy. Surfline said 2-3, and we laughed when we swerved into the lot, peered around the wall and beheld the 2-3 inch surf.
The plus side? It was 2 -3 inches of perfection, the sun was cutting through the clouds, and the popular break wasn’t canvassed with others on small wave patrol. So I tiptoed over a few slippery rocks, and made my way into lake Malibu.
Paddling out on day 3 of riding my new board, the bold icy water sent shock waves through my skin, then subsided and started to feel more invigorating and less daunting. The waves started filling in with the tide, and the 2 subsequent hours of riding my new log left me speechless. Actually, I wanted to shout to the world how much I love my new Barahona model. When I went in and we developed it, it was obviously custom made for me, on this board I feel like everywhere I step, my feet are meant to be there. It’s strange how a few inches and tweaks here or there can make everything fall into place.
Freedom comes in different forms, and this new board gives me wings. My already one-track surf-mind is lost in the waves and ocean-bound. Land is almost insignificant. This is going to be a very salty, sandy, and sunburn-y next few months.
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