Drift Log
It was a cold fall morning, holding a cup of coffee to keep warm while watching from the cliff dunes as the long-period northwest swell pounded in. Long deep blue peaks were scattered on the outside shelf ending with a heavy inside close-out and strong current. Not a soul was out or in sight. The offshores had subsided early and the white caps were already heading quickly in. Driving back into town, there was this kid riding his bike, headphones on, backpack loaded, board under the arm, pedaling alone along the river mouth road down to the break. He was still a mile from the break, after riding at least five from the end of town. A few weeks before, someone got a serious semi-circle of dings on their board from a curious local...
