It was still dark out as I was walking to my car. I had parallel parked pretty far from the dorms on one of those ominous little roads where the trees form a dark cocoon over it all. They block the moon light from their short strip of dominion. I was carrying my board with a towel and wetsuit draped over it. The only sounds came from my leafy steps and the ghosts escaping my mouth in the 30 degree night. I noticed the shadow of a man and his dog under one of the trees, ok there's my car.
I think there is something rather romantic about driving to the beach early before the sun is up. The streets are empty, everybody is asleep, Im awkwardly sitting at a street light waiting for invisible traffic so I can go. Those that are awake are are leaving their hotel shift, hunched at the drawbridge, or chugging coffee making the commute. Im just going surfing.
The sun still hasn't stirred yet, I pull up to the coast line. I can make out the large bold silhouettes of the swell coming in. The moonlight spins off their faces and the offshore breeze forces them to spit water from their backs. Not a single human in the water. Its good.
My wetsuit is still wet from the other day, it feels like ice all over my body at least until I can get into the ocean. Getting down the rocks is easy, not too many barnacles, theres a couple of fisherman out at the end of the pier. I think dipping my feet in the water is perhaps one of the best parts of surfing, at least during dawn patrols. I stood there about knee deep and prayed a bit before paddling out. Thank you God.
At the line up I didn't take the first wave that came to me, not even the second or third. I stayed still, observing every sound, shimmer, and ripple around me. I looked up in the night and saw one of the fisherman hanging over the pier railing staring at me. He looked kinda like the shadow of an old pelican. "Good morning, " I shouted. "Good morning, " he chuckled. It was good.
