Something offshore spinning this stuff– I don’t know what– but this morning was the best surf of the spring so far. Just past low tide, sun barely up, no wind, and the whole western Atlantic to myself. Dawn patrol, surfer lingo for getting out early in the morning glass, always accompanied by an excitement that feels now like it did forty years ago. Yeah, it’s a kids sport. Okay.

Dawn Patrol

A real ground swell today with a long interval, meaning a long time, relatively, between waves, in clear, green, smooth water. Smallish, but great form, when I first got out, but it built steadily to four-foot A-frame peaks with lots of juice, and occasional bigger sets in the six-foot range. Long, long rides, almost, but not quite, connecting to the beach break. But then a long paddle back out, of course. Fairly strong north current, so there was a lot of paddling to stay where I wanted, which is lined up with the dune walkover at the end of Berkeley, the first street south of the little hacienda. The waves always break better there, whatever the size. I suspect there is some old structure of some kind buried under water; an old pier, maybe boat fragments. It’s too consistent to be just the sand bar, and there aren’t any rocks anywhere near here to my knowledge, except up north of Marineland. I’d get lost in the scene and scanning the horizon for the tell-tale humps of a big set, look over and see a good five-footer peeling off where I’d just drifted from. Good workout just staying in position.

And it’s always a game you never really win. I’ve learned to not take the first wave of a set– the second or third are always better– pick one off, then get pounded on the way back out by some big rogue I should have waited for. But on days like today, there’s plenty to go around. Sun going from orange to yellow to white, the water shining all the way out, breaking into sparkles when a set approached. Everything else, the rides themselves, very hard to express, I think because there is no gap, no distance whatsoever between you and the event, no object or subject. Nothing to say. I feel I should try, but I couldn’t do it justice. Just unconnected images; the rush of feeling the tail of the board lift when you merge with the wave; the effortless standing; a long green wall opening, moving ahead, you stuck in it, with it; sunlight through the back of the wave where you trail a hand in liquid glass; glimpses of the sandy bottom in just-right light. Full, expansive, limitless, and over in seconds.

Saw several more of the tribe out down off the submarine tower as I paddled in. Wind starting up, tide filling in, conditions deteriorating. Kids these days. Don’t know if they’ve heard of dawn patrol or not, but at least they were skipping school to go out.

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