A trail at the start usually leads to good surf memories. For instance, I walked down to Triton's Doorstep a month ago and got my wetsuit blown halfway down my torso by a Canyon Set. Ah, memories.
A week off of work, but always other work to do. Still, a short stay just a stroke away from The Trestle had me mat-packing. Wetsuit, fins and a mat are incredibly functional travel companions.
Monday through Thursday would be Theme Park Purgatory- much pleasure some passive pain. But oh the grins on my kids' faces. Sliding was prescribed.
Monday was probably negative twenty degrees centigrade on the beach at Uppers. I changed into my wetsuit bare-arsed as the shorebirds, more demure than I, looked on. Puff-puff and I'm immersed. I knew I'd only have an hour of warmth in my pocket so waves were my prey. Not a soul to share with. Double overhead (on the mat) and zipping along the cobbles. Beautiful, thrilling, novel, sensational.
This was my theme park ride. These were my roller coasters. This, my happiest place on earth.