This is my friend Mike and I, heading down the trail toward in the Creek on a late afternoon day in the spring of 1995. Typical of the season, the ocean was a mess and waves were large and chunky and in some cases, closing out over the entire length the sandbar. Nobody was out. Both Mike and I were itching to surf though and we must have stared out into the lineup for a good half hour, debating on whether to paddle out and take a pounding or go find something else. At this point, something else probably wouldn't have been any better.

Our friend Anthony (who didn't surf, but was a beachcomber) had taken a stroll and spotted waves further down the coast, so he came back and alerted us to them. With nothing better to do, we trudged down the rocky shoreline and were surprised to find the inside section of a rocky reef looking, dare I say, fun? No, not fun. At least at this "spot" we wouldn't get cleaned up repeatedly, so Mike and I suited up and paddled through the inside mine field to where the messy swells reformed into chest high lefts and rights.

The rides were short and both of us were a little timid because of all the boils that showed themselves whenever waves passed this section of reef. Mike had it a little better, being a bodyboarder and all. In the end, it was an interesting session and the two of us paddled back through the mine field as the sun dipped into the sea, laughing at our exploits because no one in their right minds would have thought to surf this "spot."

Looking back at it now, I think we were just desperate, crazy and dumb.