They scoop up their gear, toss it into the back of the truck, and jog over the boardwalk, down a ramp, and across the beach. A slight onshore breeze has added a little oomph to the waves, but it’s still a far cry from decent.
Stack stops at the shoreline, swings his torso back and forth, and grinds his feet in the sand to wipe away any grease he may have picked up. At his level of surfing, traction is everything. The more board can become appendage, the better.
He paddles out and catches a wave almost immediately. He flings himself across the waist-high face, as if trying to break free of the water. He sets his sights on a little bend in the lip ten yards down the line, and when he gets to it he boosts up and over, airborne for an epically long moment, then lands atop the wave and continues riding. Finally, he kicks out in a single motion, paddles a few yards, and heads straight into another one.
East Coast & West Coast Surfing