Dedicated to New England Surfers

Last night will hold a solid vision burned in my mind for years to come. Every bit of my being has been affected by what I experienced. It has felt like AGES since this feeling has come to resonate within the heart of my soul. Surfing is pure nature. Aside from our man made devices we ride upon, the act of surfing is the act of immersing yourself in Nature. The horizon was worth writing innumerable words of its cherry hue as the Ocean reflected and churned. All the while, solid and consistent waist to head high groundswell swept over one of my favorite reefs. One hour later, three people in the lineup and we were all stoked. Wave counts were maxed out. Solid head high runners for hours. Barrel sections, air sections, the surf was getting better. The sun was dropping, the lighting was f*cking surreal! The sky turned all shades of yellow to orange finishing with reds to fluorescent pink to greyed out purples accented by an offshore storm-front. If this wasn't good enough, the entire session was in full double-rainbow over the horizon, "holy shit nature is making me so f*cking high on life" fairy-tale land. I think they call these mystical experiences. This is why it all started for me and it's taken almost thirteen years to understand this. Charged. I can only begin to describe the plateau of bliss I was on for those two to two and a half hours of surf. All natural liquid molding and bending over reef, uninterrupted. Hooked. For life. Have been, will be always wanting more. JB