Lin Weeks Wilder

We came down for only a few days but I’m sorry to be leaving in the morning. The weather has been perfection. Plus now I understand why this is the home of the Mavericks Surfing contests. The wave looks as if it was shot in Hawaii but it was taken right here in Half Moon, California.

Maybe because of the hurricane that hit the Baja peninsula last night, the surf in the bay where we always stay while here has been wild. People have been standing watching these waves all day; many of us in awe of the surfers who race to the water, bare feet hardly touching the pavement of the road, so excited are these mostly men and a couple of women to ride these monster waves.

Shadow and I walked along the sidewalk, dodging the ocean spray as it thundered over the rocks toward us and stopped next to a guy standing watching, mesmerized at the surfers racing from their cars, boards slung over shoulders as they dashed across the street to get into the water just as soon as they possibly could do so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I learned how to surf in Hawaii…this makes what I did look like child’s play.

“Wow do they have guts.”

The wistfulness was written all over his face as he spoke. His shirt was off, demonstrating the beginning of fat around his waist and abdomen that none of these men possessed- each looked pencil thin…not an ounce of extra fat anywhere…the caloric expenditure of these people as they rode or crashed on the waves was extraordinary. He knew it better than I.

“Do you think you’ll join them one day?” I asked.

“If I can get the courage to do it, yeah…but I’d need lessons..and guts.”

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