Looking at the weather maps you see that the North Pacific is more red and purple than it is blue for the next two weeks. You are on winter break. Or between jobs. Or just rich enough to scratch whatever’s itching you at the moment. Doesn’t matter why you’re free, and so is your best friend (the one with the 4×4 and Jet Ski). The timing is perfect.
Now it’s 4AM and you’re loading boards and supplies into the 4×4. You sip your coffee and pull a beanie over your ears. As the truck warms, you watch the morning mist falling slowly in front of the headlights. Tail gate shut. Doors slammed. Reverse…you drive south.
"Hope this fog lifts," you say, peering out the passenger side door.
"Yeah," your friend says. And then you ride in silence until you reach Mexico.
For the next two weeks you surf and you drive. Down to Mexico that first morning, surfing waves new and old, then north again. Back to the US and through the various surf zones that comprise California. While it’s all the Golden State, each area has its own quirks, and you know from experience and lore the opportunities and pitfalls that await for you in each region. The best winds and secret coves, disgruntled locals and great white sharks. You seek and destroy accordingly. Passing through each area, you feel a sense of adventure. A sense of new. A sense that, once this fog lifts, you will undoubtedly score. — SURFING