Thesurferspaddleon theirboardsand
suddenly—as ifbydivinity—stand
verticalon thewater.Onesurfer in
particular trulymasters themoment; she
appears tofloat through theneonblue,
cutting into thewallofwaterwithperfect
precisionandspeed.Adance, ifyouwill,
with themostpowerfulpartneronEarth:
MotherNature.
Ican’t lookaway.Mygaze follows the
surferacross the toweringwavebefore
she fallsback into theabyssandemerges
withasmile.She lookscompletely
invigorated.
Iwant that.
I T W A S T H I S
scene that
kindledmyfire threeyearsago, afire
thatonly theoceancouldextinguish. It
hasdrawnmeback to thesmall townof
Pescadero,Mexico,hoping tore-create
whatIsawon thebeach thatday.Back
then, it tookabout twohours from
CaboSanLucas toget to town.But time
marcheson, andsodoesurbangrowth.
Thanks to thenewhighway thatcuts
through thedesert landscape, a trip from
HECOASTOF SAN
PEDRITO BEACH
IS ROCKY. DANGEROUS,
EVEN. TOTHENAKED
SOLE, THEOCEAN
FLOOR IS ACOBBLING
OF SLIPPERY, MISMATCHED
STONES. FROMTHE SHORE,
THECOBALTWAVESMEETTHE
PALE-BLUEHORIZON. THE LINE
IS TAUT, PERFECTLY STILL, BROKEN
ONLY BYA FEW SPECKS
OFCOLOR—RED, GREENAND
YELLOWWETSUITS— BOBBING
INTHEWATER. YOUHEAR IT
BEFOREYOU SEE IT: THE ROAROF
THE PERFECTWAVEGAINING
SPEED, HEADINGTOWARD SHORE…
70
SEPTEMBER2015
AMERICANWAY
InstructorsMario (left)
andChuygiveus the
skinnyon surfing at Los
CerritosBeach.
