Pacific Beach – Monday, June 19, 2006

I was right back where I started. After waking up at 4 a.m., I had driven from Pacific Beach to San Clemente and back hitting just about every spot along the way. South County confirmed on the phone; it was the same everywhere: foggy, windy, and weak. 
Now I was back in PB, sitting in my truck, scanning the gray horizon for any sign of swell, sipping the last of my now cold coffee. My hands were shaking from caffeine overload. I was a bit frustrated to say the least. 
A giant south swell, which of course had been predicted, hyped, and anticipated for the past two weeks, was just reaching SoCal waters, and from the looks of it, was passing us right by. This wasn’t surprising; San Diego’s coastline isn’t ideally situated to draw in steep souths. Plans had been made to go elsewhere, but we couldn’t decide on exactly where, and indecision had won out at the last minute. 
So here I was, sitting in my truck stewing. I knew it was firing where I was supposed to be, if I would’ve only just gone. But instead, there I sat, staring blankly out at . . . a lone surfer sliding down a mellow wave all the way to the sand. Huh? He paddled back out and proceeded to catch five more, exactly the same. He was the only one out, and though my first instinct was to grab my board and join him, I decided to let it stay that way. Right back where I started.

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