We awoke in Santa Barbara Monday morning to overcast skies and evidence of rain. The AC had given out some time during the night, leaving the smell of sweat hanging in the air. A quick shower washed away the funk and we headed out to find food. Lucky for us a continental breakfast including oatmeal, muffins, bagels, cereal and fruit was on offer.
Continental breakfasts are a beautiful thing. I had a conversation with a fellow who explained how to strategically capitalize on these low-grade offerings. As a wayward traveler on a slim budget, he hacks his way cross-country by paying close attention to Priceline deals, and either cashing in on a cheap room, or crashing in a hotel parking lot. Either way he slips in for the complementary breakfast each morning. This tactic may not be for everyone- but if you do find yourself on a shoestring mission, it may not be the worst of ideas. Hell, waste not, want not. Any leftovers are going in the trash anyway.
On the road to Laguna Hills we watched the pulsating energy from the deep push lazily breaking waves along the numerous points. Rincon looked tasty, yet there were deadlines to meet- so we reluctantly sped onward. By the time we had wrapped up our media-relations it was four o'clock and I was more than ripe for a session.
Our first stop: Pacific Beach, San Diego. While this wave isn't exactly a standout in this area- my first glimpse at turquoise SoCal freshness couldn't have made me happier. Conditions were a little mixed up, yet a consistent wave was breaking to the north of the PB Pier and I charged out. Fearing that summer crowds would entail a hearty mix of sour locals holding down the main peaks, I paddled out just off center.
Within minutes I was able to assess the situation and realize that there were only a handful of people within 200 yards who could remotely surf. I traded rights and lefts with one other guy and slashed faces, carveddeep turns, and floated my way to glory. My first day here and I'm already scoring laps in these warm, welcoming waters. Could it really be this good? I truly had forgotten what it was like to be blessed with warm. When I'm not shivering, squinting from another ice-cream headache, or catching my breath from a severe cold-water beating, the stoke sets in exponentially stronger.
I surfed for a solid two hours and emerged from the water with a huge, shit-eating grin on my face. To top off our summer solstice celebration we had dinner on a roof-deck a block off the beach. Without a worry in the world I enjoyed a beer, mussels, and Ahi salad as I sunk in to an endorphin fueled haze.
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