Turns out, the wedge was much more fun to watch than it was to surf. It was a little backwashy, a little too close to the sand, and quite honestly, I was a feeling a little slow from the pizza and pitchers the night before – not the most nimble of pre-surf meals. Nate and Noah suggested a beach just a few minutes up the road and off we went.
As we pulled up to spot number two, a clean, three-wave set rolls through the lineup. It looks like a Lowers-esque left with a dumpy little inside section – a heavenly setup for our goofyfooted chaperones. Everyone scrambles for their gear, and before Mikey and I even decide on what suits to wear, Nate’s already stomped a massive straight air.
Knowing that this session may be a long one, we decide on the Xcel and Rip Curl suits – two that we presumed to be on the warmer side of the bunch. Three hours later, this presumption would be fully justified. Tired, but in no way cold, Mikey and I make it back to the car satisfied with our respective decisions.
It was no later than 2 o’clock, but it felt as though we’d covered enough coastline and fit in as much surfing as most would in a solid weekend. A proper meal and recharge was in order.
When asked, “Where should we go eat?” Nate and Noah drifted into “How good does ice cream sound right now?” Sure, it sounded amazing. But this was a telling sign that, despite their physical age, not a thing has changed since their youth – they’re still just two wirehaired groms running wild on the Central Coast.