I had an interesting experience and thought I'd share it. The sun
doesn't set now until almost 9:30pm, so when I got off from work,
I still had plenty of daylight for a good session. The weather was perfectly
clear, with some low clouds on the horizon, and a light, frigid offshore
wind blowing. The weather had been really rainy for the last week or more,
so even though it was really cold, I had to be in the water on such a nice
day.
I drove down to Sandvik, but took a different trail to the beach. The road
was winding, very rough with large chunks of lava rock breaking up the dirt.
As I bumped along in my jeep, with Alice in Chains rocking, I descended
along the trail into a valley, where the European and North American
continents meet. To the right, a huge cliff of rock rose straight out of the
ground, as if God had cleaved the earth. At moments like this, miles away
from the nearest town, driving through a barren, uninhabited landscape, it's
easy to imagine you're on a great adventure. A mile or so later, I reached
the beach and got out to take a look.
With my hands stuffed deep in my pockets, I watched the lines coming in.
Waves weren't really breaking, as the tide was super high, but the swells
were in the chest high range. Since the tide was going down, and the sun was
out, I decided to give it a shot, knowing that it would probably get better.
For the first hour, the waves got steadily more consistent with the tide
change. Eventually a nice little right started to form, with a quick little
barrel section. On one wave I actually even got a small coverup, and got
that nice view. I decided to pull my hood down since I haven't surfed
without a hood in several months, and the swell was clean enough to get away
with it. I figured I'd surf till I got too cold, then call it a night.
Time went by, and the rides multiplied. I kept telling myself, "ok, one more
wave and I'm heading in," but I was getting the molasses effect, and
couldn't seem to get to my feet quick enough to get a good one in. I was
determined not to leave until I caught a great last wave. Plus, it just kept
getting more and more beautiful out. The sun was setting on the horizon,
painting the clouds and sky orange. The ocean reflected the light, turning
the water purple-orange. Directly opposite the sun, a huge full moon was
rising over the sand dunes. The seagulls were floating out to sea, making
their little seagull calls. Then, suddenly, a movement to my right catches
my eye. I look over to see a curious face staring back. Both of us covered
in black rubber, he probably thought I was some strange relative of his. Of
course, I don't have any wiskers. The seal looked at me for a moment,
wondering what I was doing here. He rolled over onto his back, and suddenly
ducked underwater. A few seconds later, he popped back up, about 10 feet
away. His whole head came out of the water and he was looking right at me. I
thought we shared a moment. Then he made some sort of bark, and splashed the
water, then ducked out of sight.
"Take it easy, I'm going," I said. A perfect size set appeared, and I took
the first wave. It lined up nicely, and I got a fairly good cruise nearly to
the beach. I trudged through the shallows, walked up onto the dunes, and
looked back towards the water. The seal was still cruising through the
lineup, maybe looking for dinner. The sun was setting, the moon was rising,
the wind was blowing, and the waves continued to peel along the sandbar. As
I left, I thought how nobody would be there to appreciate that beauty after
I left, how nobody but a surfer would understand the satisfaction I felt, and
that until I returned, the waves would be going unridden.