Higher tide and a little swell makes for lefts for yards at Boogie Bay.
A mile north of my house there is a lagoon. The lagoon winds and wraps past the fairgrounds and racetrack as it runs west and into the pacific. Here, volleyball courts and dogs (duds too). There, crushingly disproportionate wealth in the form of oceanfront homes, buttressed by boulders against tides and swells.
A spare hour or two and some no-thanks winds lends itself to a bit of boy time. G and I hop in the car and take a ride to Boogie Bay. Now, boogie bay is not an amazing surf spot. It is not even a surf spot for anyone over seventy-five pounds. But if you are seven and you like to ride your boogie board, then man, you have found your surfy heaven right there at Boogie Bay.
At high tides a little left, maybe two feet on the biggest of days, wraps around the rocky armor below the mansions. little G-Land, Uluwatu. A left point for the groms. Grant walks out, turns and grabs a little slider. Twenty yards of grins from take off to sand. Me, I just smile and enjoy the life of a dad, a dad who surfs, a dad who surfs with his son.
G isn't much interested in surfboards or standup surfing right now. And I dig that. Because what he is really interested in is waves. Waves of perfect size for a seven-year-old, wrapping and reeling into Boogie Bay.