My favorite barrel-rider of all time. 6'6" Lis quad. A true revelation to me.
Average surfers like myself make memories out of mere moments.
The trail down from Triton Town is ever beautiful and baffling. Sea thieves conspire and scheme to take every single wave that they possibly can by any means that there has ever been in any conditions that there might be. And not to smile about it. Seriously. Why even surf if you're not going to smile?
Amongst the battling beasts I place myself. A kitten with the tigers, a pigeon trying to fly in falcon country.
Then Triton stirs. Salty karma can be sweet. A head and a bit peak rears and then jacks up double. I spin and gulp. I surf small waves, not barrels anymore, my real life has dictated as much. But there it is. A true barrel. Blue/black and robust. I slip to my feet and crouch back on above the fins. Click, click, zip! Fins, rail and rocker align and seek exit. I spread my arms and tickle the curtain as I exit.
There is nothing, nothing like being scared and then barreled. Back for more.