Open Wide

So at the end of the day, after everybody had written the surf off as "too mushy" and "blown out," five friends pulled on their slimy wetsuits and got back into the water. Within minutes, the rip along the cape deposited them in a neat row in the line-up. Once there, they found themselves in the most perfect waves they had ever experienced on the Oregon coast. The 6-foot peelers wrapped around the rocks and gave them a taste of point break surfing - a rarity in this land of whitewater walls and shifty beach breaks. This wave glowed aqua under the setting sun. It came in a long line before standing too tall and folding over neatly from the right, a friendly foamball punctuating the end of a smooth green slope. The break was so precise that it was actually difficult to get caught inside. It was overhead, but the drop was easy. After that, it was up to the rider to write his little story/song on the face to the best of his ability. For our group, that usually meant drop in, bottom turn, find pocket, stay in sweet spot and "go, go, go!" We all hooted until we were hoarse.

There was another guy out there with us; a skilled longboarder who must have been Hawaiian (judging by his dark complexion, tough demeanor, Excel wetsuit, and board with "Kahlua" emblazoned on the deck). I'll never forget one of his rides. It's like a David Pu'u surf photo in my mind. There he was, riding in the classic knock-kneed style, backlit with the lip throwing right over his head. Was he going to pull in? He was standing too tall. Did he get tubed? The last thing I remember before he was obscured by the passing swell were his gleaming white teeth blasting from the silhouette of his head. When he paddled back out next to me, we both had to scratch hard to get outside another wave rifling down the line toward us, bigger than the one he had just ridden. He howled as we barely made it over the top, "Open wide!"

Animal Collective "Did You See the Words"