Updated: Dec 16, 2021
If a wave breaks but no one sees, did it ever cease to exist at all? See I reckon that, and my apologies for the head-scratching, philosophical preamble, but if a wave of energy lays no allegiance to any master then it can continue to bounce around in transference from one party to the next. It's something taken more from a fever dream I had than actually pulled from anything resembling sane rationale. A thought-provoking soliloquy or just perhaps the ramblings of a crazy man needing an intro to share some photos and tell their stories. This is a continuance of the storytelling that originated here(The Pacific Frontier) but told through still frames and journal entries belonging to my generation; inspired by those before us in hopes of inspiring those to come.
Day 0- Jan. 7, 2016
-The tumbleweeds burn ferociously bright, much like the beautiful gaseous bulbs of light scattered across the crisp winter sky above me. It's hard not to forsake this precious land, when in fact just hours earlier I'd been gifted the opportunity to escape back to familiar territory; but alas, I passed in hopes that my suspicions were indeed correct about certain ramifications that the minor uptick on the W. Oregon buoy would have over a thousand miles away; and while although my suspicions were correct, I sit here mentally exhausted and physically beaten, cursing my decision to stay. Writhing with the discomfort of a probable neck injury lingering over, or maybe it's below, my aching head; and the uncertainty of what state my self prescribed cocktail of ibuprofen, Tecates, and churros would find me in come dawn. I find myself at odds with these peaceful surroundings. Never before have I been so hasty to return home from a surf trip that I considered leaving early with a full day of swell still firmly charted on the horizon, but then again, I've never seen stars like I have tonight; except for maybe that first time to Joshua Tree or earlier today, when after my decision to stay resulted in a faceful of marble-like sandbar, and as the white-hot heat radiated throughout my limbs as with any nervous system injury and I forcibly beat back the thoughts of worst-case scenarios bursting at the seams, ready to flood my mind; as well as, the occasional tear or two.
I snap back to reality thanks to a blast of heat nipping at my ankles from that flaming source of tumbleweeds and gasoline.
That's when it hits me. I can feel the heat. For fuck's sake, I'm standing, and at this point, the very least I can do is be stoked/grateful for that... and the travel pillow I brought with me because the thing is the most clutch, improv neck brace I could've ever asked for.
P.S. We scored the next day.
-You know what they say about what you can find at the end of the rainbow; right?
-Captain Rash; Baja Malibu Legend. I once watched him paddle from the hostel in Playa Gigante to Playa Colorado's, more than a mile away. One of the best in the barrel I've ever met/got to know personally.
-Austin Smith-Ford; not really needing a wallet 'round these parts, but laying back after dropping his just in case.
-Hasta Pronto mi Maravillosa.
"Lo siento señor, we cannot sell beer this early... it's against the law."
The sun was just cresting the mountains to the southwest of the OXXO parking lot we were currently shivering in. Four calls deep to our boy Biner when Larry Wey comes walking out saying that we'll be making the maiden voyage to Isla Todos Santos sin cerveza. "No way! I'm not spending all day on a boat to Killers without a cooler of Tecate," one member of the group spouts off. Finally, Biner answers. "The fuck are you guy?" Tensions from our alcohol dilemma boiling over into my question clearly. "Idk, pretty hammered still at the moment. In the Las Rocas parking lot I think."(20 min in the wrong direction).
"Oh get fucked! I'm coming to get you."
Larry and I hop back into the car a recoger nuestro amigo while the rest of our gang heads to the docks to procure a boat. "Pabs, you go lock down our vessel and I'll you meet you there with Biner and beer!" "Ahuevo!.. wait, what, how?"
But before he could finish I'd already left tire tread in the intersection and was headed back north. It was a wise decision because I hadn't anticipated just how heavy our Esky(Strayan for cooler) would be. That extra set of hands was beneficial when it came to lugging our giant igloo cooler full of the freshest beers money couldn't even buy at that time of day down the dock. Mom and Pop shops; gracias adios!
P.S. Not sure how we crashed the WSL main event, but next time I'm bringing a floaty, and Taj Tucker is the man.
*Words by Milano, Fotos courtesy of Doc Pabs, Indo Eye, & Milano
-"Ho, it's firing out there boys!"
-Idk who yelled it, but calling waves from over 2 miles and 1000 vertical feet away is far from an exact science, but I couldn't say for certain because I don't carry a telescope in my camera bag; and regardless, I'd been waiting nearly 8 years for this day. So I wasn't about to squander the moment by waiting for another single second, and I thought it best to just run with it, literally, and start making our way.
-Looking good to me.
-Teak Owen, right where I'd rather be.
-I know why they say, "Leave if you can."
P.S. 7.8ft @17sec from 266-274.