Carlsbad Bureau 12/30/2oo8
Sometimes a session is so distilled it sits in the noodle like a meatball for the rest of your life. I have a handful like that, most of them from a long time ago, but yesterday evening, the ocean offered me another. I paddled out to one of those magical four wave sessions where no one is out and the tide is working the beachbreak just right, between unrideable and perfectly peeling. As I kicked out of my second wave, the wave that worked the best in that little, fortunate window, the wave where I could do nothing but slot and walk and statue for the startingly long ride, I looked up to see the sun set, painting those silvery vagueries called colors-I-have-rarely-seen. I stayed out for another brace of increasingly dumping, but still semi-perfect waves and called it a day. I must have been in the water for all of fifteen minutes, if that.