The night outside is black and cold, but I’ve shut myself in the camper of my truck and I already feel warmer. The light from a dozen fires surrounding us reveals the number of camps that will spew surfers into the lineup tomorrow morning.
The emptiness of the white noise that fills the air outside belies the violence of the war the ocean is waging with the small point we have camped on. Tomorrow we will wake and observe and prepare and enter the fray between the point and the sea. We will float and glide turn and trim upon the soldiers of the ocean and their fury, enjoying a war that will briefly subside, but never end.
Photo by the outstanding Tom Shepard
Note: I rushed this and accidently combined it with the previous post.